The Chosen Luna novel Chapter 1

Three years ago, the world's strongest pack fell to a single blood crazed wolf. Nobody knew how one person could topple an entire territory. Or what he done to emerge victorious in the bloodshed that ensued. Nobody talked and nobody knew much of the one who became a tyrant seemingly in the blink of an eye.

One thing was for sure, and that's that in a mere few hours, the leading pack of the world had fallen. The Roman Empire wasn't built in a day. But it certainly fell in one.

After this wolf out of the shadows gained the title of Alpha, he held it quietly. Connections were cut off with his new pack. What happened within those borders were a mystery to the rest of the world. But rumors seem to have their way of spreading.

People talked of the new Alpha spilling blood at every turn. How he would slaughter dozens without even being provoked. That this one wolf was so absurdly powerful that he ruled by himself: no Luna, no Beta, no adversaries. Yet nobody knew what drove him.

Three long years this went on. Eventually any more news of the pack fell silent. Until one day, it becomes loud. That day, something happens that shakes every werewolf to their core.

The tyrant Alpha is exiled.

Driven away from his own claimed territory.

The pack struggled to rebuild after that, left Alpha-less and weak. But they were no longer anyone's concern. The world had their eyes on the one whom they threw out instead.

Word spread rapidly that the Exiled Alpha is with a vengeance. That he roams the woods, trespassing from territory to territory just looking for another pack to conquer. To rule.

Every wolf across the globe quivers. On edge and paranoid. Doing whatever they can to prepare themselves, to ward off the monster lurking somewhere out in the woods.

And the Visari pack is no exception. Although their new Alpha has a different approach to the threat. And that is to take a Luna to fortify the pack's leadership. The more leaders, the more intimidation to outsiders. Right?

Snow crunches under my feet as I walk along the mountain path. The hoot of an owl mixes with the faint voices of people partying in the valley below. I envy them. They get to celebrate the exact thing that's caused me three mental breakdowns and a stomach twisted with dread.

I sigh, slowing my pace. I can't stop it at this point. But I'll sure as hell stall for as long as I can.

Maybe the alternative isn't so bad. Being invisible and ignored might be better than being tied to a narcissistic asshole.

I come to a high point in the trail and step off of it. A moth flutters up from a patch of tall, dead grass. It dances around in front of my face for a second before disappearing up into the black, starry sky until it's too small to see anymore. Likely off to hide somewhere else. I'm jealous of its freedom. It can hide from its problems. I can't.

Through a gap in the trees I look down to where the pack members are preparing in the clearing. Their bonfire is burning bright and tall, disrupting the otherwise black shadows and creating a spot of warmth among the cold landscape. Even with the distance, I can see the snow sparkling in the firelight.

A beautiful winter night has never looked so ugly.

That simple action is all it takes to perk her back up.

"Great. I thought so, too," she says. She hauls the dresses back across the room, hanging the silver one in the closet and draping the black one across the back of an armchair.

"You know I really wish you would go to this party with me. Make some friends. It would do you good to talk to someone else besides me for once," she lectures as she plops down at her vanity. She opens a small glass bottle and starts smearing skin-colored paint on her face. It matches her cocoa tone perfectly.

"I'm starting to regret doing that much," I grumble in return. Aimee is the only person I truly consider a friend. I've known her for about as long as I can remember, though it wasn't until about a year and a half ago that we became close.

"Oh please. Your bitch ass loves me and you know it. And since you love me so much, you should come with me." Her words are mumbled as she puckers her lips to slather her dark purple lipstick on.

I don't waste time in shooting her down. "Not a chance."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun. I hear Oarcan boys are a sight to see. Tall and sleek. With water dripping from their silky hair, down their chiseled abs and right to their-"

I gag. I actually gag. When that's not enough to stop her, I throw myself into an exaggerated coughing fit to get the point across. The last thing I need to hear about are Aimee's fantasies. Her many, many fantasies. And believe me when I say they're sickening. Her ones for the males of the Oarca pack-- another tribal pack, whose members have a special affiliation with water-- are exceptionally disturbing.