Page 15 of Howling Love (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #1)

Gracie

“If you run, you die. Understand?” The soldier was matter-of-fact, either unfeeling or numb to the instructions he delivered.

I nodded, walking in front of him from the holding cell and back into the compound yard.

I couldn’t tell how long I’d been inside that cell, only that the daylight was quickly escaping from the sky.

And like a ticking clock, the ritual was fast approaching.

The soldier had instructed me to walk across the yard to the biggest building on the compound, a three-story structure that rose above the rest. The ritual would take place outside, in an arena to the west of the compound.

Normally used for training, one night out of each month it became a place of bloodshed and violence.

“Through the door and up the stairs.” Another order, and I didn’t hesitate to follow it. The eyes of my fellow pack members—buried in their day of work—were glued to me as I passed. I had no doubt the news of my failure had infiltrated the entire compound. I didn’t feel shame, though.

“Last door to your right.”

My body ached from climbing the stairs, but I kept going. When I reached the last door to my right, it opened immediately. Velina motioned for me to enter and then closed the door right in the soldier’s face.

“Sit.”

I stayed silent as I sat in the available chair, keeping my focus on the woman standing in the center of the room.

Throughout my time in the Cold Moon Pack, we’d had several priestesses come and go from the compound—it was routine for a visiting priestess to perform the monthly rituals.

But where was Thalira? During monthly rituals she would sit with everyone else after helping to prepare the selected “honored sacrifice.” Not this time, though.

I hadn’t seen or heard a word from her since arriving back.

And this woman was very different from any priestess I’d seen before.

She wasn’t from any of our compounds, or even our territory.

There was something distinctly other about her and the way she held herself, looking me over with curiosity and objectivity.

“Child of Nyxarra, welcome. My name is Avenyx. I will be preparing you for this sacred execution.”

Sacred execution . At least that was a more accurate term than “sacrifice.” There would be nothing sacred about it, but at least it was named for what it was—a death penalty.

Her voice was steady and calm, but the look in her eyes was off, and there was nothing to distract from her all-seeing stare.

Her white-blonde hair was pulled away from her face in a severe style, and the steel-plated ceremonial armor she wore looked like something out of a novel.

Across it lay a black sash bearing Nyxarra’s outline, and a large sword hung on her back in a sheath.

Avenyx was terrifying.

“Avenyx is from the temple in the Grimfur Skulk territory. They have an entire academy devoted to being a priestess of Nyxarra,” Velina explained. It was the last piece of information I received before Avenyx motioned for me to stand.

I was stripped of my dress, left in practically nothing, my body trembling at the stark reminder of how little control I had here.

My ankles were still weighed down by chains, and as Avenyx and Velina began to scrub my skin with a rough sponge and cold water, I let my eyes fall shut.

The moment felt violating, somehow more than others I’d been through recently.

Only when Velina pulled a cotton dress over my head did I feel better.

My skin was raw, and I winced as Avenyx began to paint my body in ceremonial patterns I’d never seen before.

Something was different about tonight’s ritual—that much was obvious.

I just didn’t understand what. The only thing I could appreciate was that Avenyx wasn’t cruel in her actions.

She was simply being meticulous in her process, especially while decorating my skin.

My nose twitched at the metallic scent of the paint, and I began to feel lightheaded.

When Avenyx chanted in quiet tones, Velina took a step back and began to straighten the room. Her part in this ritual was over. Sage and lavender wafted over me as Avenyx’s words floated to my ears.

“This death is sacred; it will fuel the goddess’s command.

Nyxarra, your soldier sacrifices her life tonight, willingly and joyfully.

” Tears crowded my eyes, and I looked up at the ceiling as I tried to blink them away.

“Your child has failed her mortal duties, but she will serve you in the Vast as she passes from this realm to the next.”

The Vast…would I truly go there? I hadn’t allowed my thoughts to go that far. From the Vast we are born; to the Vast we return . I’d heard that often in my life. I’d be overjoyed to reunite with Mom and Dad, but what about Owen? Who’d be left to find him?

Avenyx’s fingers traced over the center of my chest, causing a pulse of pain as she painted over the bruise from Ivan’s heavy boot.

“Don’t be afraid, child. Nyxarra welcomes you to the Vast.”

It was too much. I wasn’t sure how much longer my feet would support me. I was only saved by her exit, leaving me with Velina, who watched from the corner in silence. I gasped as the door thudded closed, unable to keep the panic at bay.

This was really going to happen. I was going to die.

My wolf was silent. I didn’t understand the markings on my body, but I knew what they did. They’d wrapped my wolf in chains. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t howl. We were prisoners of our bleak and very short future.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t find this on you.” Velina pinched a vial between her thumb and forefinger. The poison.

“I wouldn’t use it,” I murmured, then tried to move past my terror and strengthen my resolve. “If not me…someone else.”

Velina’s laugh was sharp and cruel. “You worry about others on the edge of your own death? We’re all damned under the Cold Moon Pack.”

I nodded, not disagreeing with her. Knowing I wouldn’t speak with her again after this, I found myself asking, “Why? Why do you stand by his side? How long have you stood by his side?”

Velina’s gaze turned distant as she stared at the door behind me, her answer revealing more than I could have ever expected. “Since the day he was born.”

My eyes widened. “You’re related to Ivan?”

“Alpha Ivan,” she snapped, but I didn’t correct myself. “But yes, I’m his sister.” Before I could ask her anything else, she was standing at the door. “They’ll come for you in a few minutes. Prepare yourself.”

Once again, I was left in silence to consider what I’d just learned. Ivan had a sister. I suppose that wasn’t surprising, but it did show the extent of his cruelty. If he treated his own sister that way, what hope was there for the rest of us?

“Three-one-four. Stand.”

The same soldier had come for me, and I didn’t bother correcting him on the number. Somehow it bothered me less than if he’d called me Gracie. I stood and watched as he unlocked the chain at my ankles, then grabbed hold of my arm and marched me toward the door.

As the two of us walked forward, armed men joined to either side of us as an escort.

The sound of boots against the ground and the clink of their guns against their vests cemented the fact that this was a death march.

When we turned to make our way toward the arena, I raised my eyes to look around.

Over a hundred workers had stopped in their tracks, watching the procession.

They’d probably follow behind to witness the rest of the mandatory “celebration.”

Gas-lit torches lined our path, the autumnal sky darkening into night.

A banner featuring Nyxarra hung prominently over the arena’s entrance, strung between the sniper towers on either end.

All of Ivan’s men were gathered, and workers were being ushered into the stands on the far side of the arena.

I wouldn’t be facing them, though. I would be facing Ivan, who would sit front and center like a king.

Most of this was familiar, like every month on the full moon.

But the center of the arena didn’t hold the usual wooden altar and bounty.

Instead, Avenyx stood in front of a marble slab raised four inches off the ground, surrounded by skulls.

Smoke wafted from them, and the scent of rot permeated the air.

The beating of drums was heavy in my ears as I took the last few steps to her altar.

“Join me at the table of offerings.” She motioned to the slab.

As the guard released me, she took my hand, helping me sit on the stone.

Everything about the moment felt surreal, and as Avenyx worked, spreading tools out in front of her, I watched absently as the arena continued to fill.

Quiet conversations and murmurs spread throughout, and armed soldiers formed a perimeter around the altar.

Did they truly think I would try to escape? I knew I would be gunned down without a thought.

“What a beautiful night to be offered,” Avenyx murmured. “Clear sky, showing off the Buck Moon. Nyxarra blesses her soldiers.”

She was right—it was a beautiful, clear night. The smoke curling around me made the stars seem fuzzy as I watched them twinkle brightly. A small smile tugged at my lips as I imagined Basir, Ravik, and Thornar seeing the same sky.

Surely, as wolves, they would enjoy it just as much.

It was foolish. Madness. But a small part of me wished—maybe hoped—that I could see them once before it all ended.