His Moon, Reborn

Stone's Point of View

Stone sprinted through the moon-drenched forest, his paws pounding the earth as branches clawed at his fur. The trees blurred past, but the unease twisting in his gut kept pace. Something was wrong.

The scents around him shifted—pine and moss giving way to something bitter, cold, and ancient. He slowed, hackles bristling.

She’s here.

“Alpha.” Alistair’s voice cut through the mind-link, sharp and urgent. “We have company."

Then he noticed a flash of movement to his left. He turned just in time to see a figure darting through the trees—too fast to be human, too graceful to be anything but her.

Carina.

Her auburn hair flashed like fire through the gloom, and Stone’s breath hitched. She was supposed to be dead—or in hiding. But here she was again, crawling from the shadows like rot.

“Positions, everyone!” Stone’s voice cracked like thunder through the link. “Hadrianus won’t be far. Jerrold as well. There will be no mistakes this time."

A growl rumbled deep in his throat. Wherever she went, her cursed children followed—Jerrold, her lapdog. Hadrianus, her centuries-old lover. Monsters. All of them

That bastard had helped her slaughter his family.

The air thickened. Her scent grew stronger, mingled with Hadrianus’s old blood and Jerrold’s eagerness.

Then a laugh.

High, cold, mocking. It echoed from the treetops above, curling around him like smoke.

“I remember the night you died.”

Her voice dripped from the canopy above, sweet and mocking. “The night I killed you.”

Stone’s gaze snapped upward. She was hidden behind a veil of branches, her presence unmistakable—sharp fangs, high cheekbones, feline grace. Her silhouette crouched, perched like a vulture waiting to strike.

“You’ll never stop mourning her, will you?” Carina purred. “Your precious Luna. Your son. Their little heads so easy to sever. Do you still hear them cry in your dreams?”

He growled, eyes narrowing. “Come down and say that to my face.”

Another laugh, closer this time. The branch above creaked as she paced across it barefoot.

"I remember it vividly. Just like yesterday. How many years have passed? At least a hundred, if I am not mistaken." she repeated, her tone mocking, taunting.

“Talk to me, Sten, tell me how it feels.” She whispered. “Tell me how your soul aches for hers. Tell me how it feels to lose your own mate and pup because you couldn’t save them.”

His claws tore into the tree trunk. The mention of his mate—of his son—sent fire through his veins.

Memories rushed before his eyes—his mate's sweet smile and his son's innocent giggle, both stolen from him in one blood-soaked night.

“You took them,” he snarled. “But I’m still here.”

She leaned forward, voice curling like smoke. “And what a tragedy that is. You should’ve died with them.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“I remember the blood,” she purred. “Her cries. His little heartbeat slowing. Do you remember that too?”

Stone’s chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of breaking.

“I remember,” he said coldly. “Every second. And I’ll make sure you remember your last.”

Carina’s grin widened. “Such fire. It’s what I liked about you.” Her eyes glittered. “But fire burns out, Sten. And I—”

"Why don't you tell me, Carina?" He hissed between gritted teeth, his tone low and threatening. "Tell me how it feels to run like a coward for a hundred years."

Her expression flickered.

"Tell me how it feels to know that every time you meet me, you are nearing the end of your life." Stone pressed, voice dark.

She laughed, but it rang hollow.

"Oh, Sten. Sten... You speak of endings, but I am the beginning of your misery. You know this."

She leaned closer, her eyes filled with sadistic delight. "I killed you once before, and I will do it again. And this time, I'll make certain there's nothing left to bury. Stone felt a flood of rage surge through him, nearly blinding him.

The rage hit him like a wave. With a roar, he lunged at the tree.

His claws gripped the lowest branch—it snapped under his weight. He snarled, scaling the trunk, bark tearing beneath his paws.

Carina vaulted to another tree with inhuman grace, her laugh echoing as she danced just out of reach.

She was always a step ahead—always vanishing like smoke.

But not this time.

“Sten, always one step behind? It’s a shame you’ll never get what you want back.”

Carina’s mocking voice rang through the treetops before she vanished into the shadows with a flutter of leaves.

He dropped to the ground and ran after her. Her movements were nearly soundless—but not the trees. Their branches rustled, little twigs snapped, and evergreen pine needles flitted to the ground, carrying a spicy smell.

She was nearly odorless, with the scent of the forest disguising her own. The only way he could keep up with her was to follow the spicy scent of pine needles that fell to the ground.

She zipped to the right before abruptly turning to the left.