Page 34 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter thirty-one

Pack on the Run

NOAH

W hen we arrive on the scene, the house is already in flames, but not beyond saving. The crew leaps into action. Sera is already there, directing the hydrant team. Her eyes blaze with concentration—and worry. I can feel it pouring off her in waves.

We work in tandem, dousing the flames, preserving what we can. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just fire, calculated and precise. Marcus is sweating profusely but focused, dragging the hose like it weighs nothing. For now, he’s holding it together.

Too well.

And I can feel the energy in the air—something unnatural lingering beneath the smoke. And unfortunately, this fire doesn’t feel like an accident.

I catch Sera’s eye. "There was wolf energy here. Old. Faint. They’re long gone,” she says.

I nod in agreement. "Like ghosts."

We scan the rubble, each step crunching over wet ash and charred beams. The house is gutted, but not erased. And the Bensons…or their bodies…are nowhere to be found. Which tells me this wasn’t about murder. Yet.

It was a message.

The question is: what’s next?

That’s when Sera pipes up. "Where’s Marcus?"

I spin, circling as fast as my mind is racing.

But we both know the truth before the evidence is in.

He’s gone.

I close my eyes and reach out with that new, raw connection—the one I didn't ask for, the one that comes with turning someone into a wolf.

Marcus.

A sharp jolt cracks down my spine. I feel it—the shift. The full moon has pulled him under. His thoughts flicker through mine in flashes: pain, power, freedom. Then vision. Trees rush past. His limbs are longer, stronger. He’s running.

No. No, no, no.

My stomach drops as I follow the pull of our link. I see through his eyes now—dark shapes in the woods, familiar. Bode’s pack. They’re there, waiting, welcoming.

Marcus is laughing, full of adrenaline and hunger.

He lunges. Something screams.

A man.

No. God, no.

I jerk back into myself, nearly stumbling into the ash-covered ground. My lungs can’t seem to get enough air.

He’s made his first kill. Without me.

My fault.

Sera is suddenly at my side. “Noah? What is it?”

I swallow hard, pulse crashing through my ears. “He’s turned.”

Her expression hardens instantly.

I shake my head, still trying to steady my breath. “He found Bode’s pack. He’s...joined them. I saw it. I felt it.”

She covers her mouth. “You mean—”

“Yeah.” My jaw clenches. “And he made his first kill with them. Human.”

I can see her face go white.

On top of that, I still don’t know where my parents are. No bodies. No trail. Just this message of fire and fear.

And now, the sound rises—clear and haunting. A howl, unmistakable, echoing from the direction of the firehouse.

Pack call.

I meet Sera’s wide eyes, and we both know.

They're not done.

Pressure tightens against my chest as I grip the railing of the firetruck, fingers curled tight enough to split steel. Wind lashes my face, hot with ash, the sirens screaming through the smoky dark like a warning we’re already too late to heed.

We’re not just chasing a blaze. We’re charging headfirst into something ancient. Something hungry.

The Bensons—my foster parents, the only family I’ve ever had who stuck—aren’t answering their phones. Marcus, my best friend, my second-in-command, my pack whether he wants to be or not—he’s out there with the enemy.

And all I’ve got is the smell of blood on the wind and a feeling in my spine that says something is very, very wrong.

This night… it’s spiraling into a full moon from hell. And the worst part? I saw it coming.

Every part of me is stretched thin. Alpha instincts on overdrive.

I’m supposed to be the steady one. The protector.

The one who keeps the firehouse standing, the crew breathing, the monsters at bay—both the ones out there, and the ones that live in me.

But this isn’t a standard call, and we all know it.

This fire isn’t natural. Neither is the silence on the comms. Neither is the way my wolf’s been pacing under my skin all damn day, restless and furious.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay in control. To keep the wolf leashed. To play human long enough to blend in and protect what matters.

But right now?

The only way to protect them all is to completely lose control.

The truck hits a bump. I brace myself, eyes locked on the firehouse coming into view—dark, not a soul in sight, and the taste of danger thick in the air like ozone before a lightning strike.

My wolf howls inside me, primal and certain: They’re in trouble.

I’m running out of time.

I won’t survive this night without my magic—I know that now. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter. Can’t keep holding it back like it won’t crack me open anyway.

But even more than that… I won’t survive it without her .

My mate.

And gods help whoever stands between me and keeping her alive.

SERA

The moment we reach the firehouse, the flames are already licking the sky.

The heat hits me first, then the smell—burnt rubber, scorched wood, and something else. Something feral. The crew jumps out, snapping into action, but I stay frozen on the step for a half-second longer, scanning the chaos. No sign of the Bensons. No Marcus.

The Captain barks orders, and the team moves like a well-oiled machine, hoses uncoiled and water roaring. But even as they fight the fire, I know it’s a distraction. The real threat? Long gone.

They’re ghosts in the smoke—Bode’s wolves. I can feel them in my blood, the way static charges a storm before it breaks. They were here. This fire. It’s only a message.

A warning.

But I'm certain we won't find the Bensons here.

Then it hits me—sharp and sudden.

A vision.

I stumble, catching myself against the side of the truck as it flashes through me: a clearing in the woods, ringed in stone. A circle. And there, tied to wooden stakes like old pagan sacrifices—Mr. and Mrs. Benson.

The flames haven’t reached them yet. But they will.

“Noah,” I shout into the blaze. “We have to go. Now.”

He catches my tone and is at my side in an instant. I don’t wait. I reach out—not physically, but telepathically. Tori , I push the name into the ether like a prayer. We’re heading to the circle. The Bensons are there.

I don’t know if she hears me, but I don’t have time to wait for confirmation.

Noah and I take off through the trees, leaving the fire and the crew behind.

I hear him shift behind me, bones cracking in fast succession. He’s hungry. And unstable. I keep my distance.

I’m learning fast what it means to love a werewolf.

Especially on a full moon.

We move fast, weaving through the woods like smoke. The wind tears at my hair, and the light of the moon paints the forest floor in silver streaks. Every step draws us closer to the circle—and to whatever nightmare waits there.

Noah veers off the path ahead, running on all fours now, his massive wolf form cutting through the brush like a knife. I can feel his energy radiating back toward me in bursts—wild, barely controlled. He’s fighting the urge to lose himself completely.

I don't call out to him. He wouldn't hear me anyway. Not over the sound of the hunger gnawing at his insides.

We’re both dancing on the edge.

I take a more human shortcut, ducking under a low-hanging branch and sliding down a slope slick with pine needles. My boots catch just in time to keep me from eating dirt. At the base of the hill, I stop.

I duck behind the nearest tree and pull out the box Tori left for me.

Bless her for always knowing exactly what I need.

Inside: a gun loaded with six silver bullets, a charm bracelet laced with warding glyphs, three small pouches of ash root powder, and an FBI holster, worn but solid.

I strap it all on quickly, methodically, like armor. Because that’s what this is now. War.

I pause with the gun in my hands and glance up at the moon.

It’s full, round, pulsing with power. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel fear.

My shoulders square, spine straightening as if drawn by the moon itself.

The power pulsing in my veins hums in tune with the wind. I am not prey tonight. I am the storm.

I holster the gun. I feel ready.

Ready to face whatever Bode has planned.

Ready to burn down whatever stands in our way.

Because we’re not just fighting monsters tonight.

We’re fighting a curse.

And I’m going to make damn sure we don’t walk into that circle unarmed.

I press forward, slow and low to the ground, until I reach the edge of the clearing. Moonlight bleeds through the trees in shafts of pale silver. My breath catches.

There they are.

The Bensons.

Bound to two thick stakes, gagged and unconscious, but alive.

Their limbs hang limp, heads slumped forward, but I can make out the subtle rise and fall of their chests.

Relief floods through me, followed by cold fury.

The flames lick gently at the edge of the circle still far enough away from them… from the pyre.

And then I see the others.

Wolves.

Six of them, hulking and snarling, pacing in the shadows just beyond the circle. Their eyes glow like embers. I spot Marcus among them, halfway between man and beast, crouched and trembling. He hasn't attacked—but he hasn’t left either.

Bode steps out from behind one of the stones, still in human form. Bare-chested. Barefoot. Covered in ceremonial paint that glows faintly under the moonlight. His voice is a low rumble as he begins to chant in some archaic tongue, words I can’t place but feel deep in my bones.

This isn’t just a sacrifice.

It’s a ritual.

A power grab.

A claiming.

I turn back toward the shadows, searching for Noah. He’s nowhere in sight, but I sense his approach.

I raise one of the ash root pouches and grip it tight.

“This ends tonight,” I whisper.

And step into the light.

As I step into the circle, time slows.

The chanting falters.

All eyes—wolf and human—snap to me.

The tension crackles like dry leaves underfoot. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, but I keep walking. Calm. Measured. I’m betting everything on Bode's pride. His arrogance. He’ll want to toy with me before making his next move.

And I’ll use every second he gives me.

Bode’s painted eyes narrow as he watches me approach the stakes. “Ah, the witch returns,” he says, his voice thick with false warmth. “Right on time.”

“Let them go,” I say, motioning toward the Bensons. “This has nothing to do with them.”

“On the contrary,” he replies, glancing at the wolves around him. “This has everything to do with them. With blood. With legacy. With magic. They could have let the Lunaris pack die off, but they took him in and protected him.”

Behind me, I feel the trees stir—Noah.

He’s almost here.

Bode tilts his head, a flicker of mockery in his eyes as if daring me to move.

His amusement is brittle now, a mask starting to crack.

. “You smell different tonight, little witch. Like fear… and something else.” His nose flares.

“Ah. Love. That foolish, dangerous thing that the fates have cursed you with.”

I grip the ash root tighter. “You know nothing about love, Bode. You just want power. Come and take it.”

His smile fades. “Gladly.”

And then, the howls rise. The hunt is on.

I step inside the circle and throw the ash root into the flames.

The wolves charge.

The fire explodes, sending a circle of white-hot light between me and the beasts.

The wolves yelp in pain as they slam into the fiery barrier, their bodies thrown back by the invisible force, shrieking as the flames sear their fur.

pummeled by the impact and crying from the fire attacking their fur.

Instinctively, they roll through the dirt to extinguish the flames biting their fur.

Bode disappears mysteriously back into the woods.

I am confident the pack won’t try that again. The Bensons and anyone within the circle are safe for the time being.

But I can’t hold them off forever.

I just pray Noah gets here in time.