The Blood Moon Hunt (Rites of the Blood Moon #1)

Chapter 1Selene Hawthorne

Chapter

One

SELENE HAWTHORNE

I glance at the clock for the hundredth time today, watching the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. The fluorescent lights above me buzz incessantly, their harsh glare making the office feel even more stifling than usual. My desk is cluttered with paperwork, most of it pointless memos and tasks that no one really cares about. The office around me hums with the familiar drone of keyboards clicking and phones ringing.

Being an office assistant isn’t glamorous. It’s barely tolerable. But it’s my job, and for now, it’s all I have.

“Selene, are you even listening?” Lila’s voice snaps me back to reality. She leans over the partition between our desks, her wide grin as bright as ever. Her curly black hair bounces as she cocks her head, waiting for my response.

“Sorry,” I mutter, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “What did you say?”

“I said,” she drawls, “you’re coming with us tonight. No excuses.”

My stomach twists. “Lila, I don’t know... I’m really not in the mood.”

Evie pops up next, her blonde waves falling over her shoulders as she taps her pen against the desk. “Come on, S. It’s Halloween, and there’s this new club opening just for one night. It’s supposed to be insane. You can’t stay in and mope about... what was his name again?”

“James,” I mutter under my breath, the name leaving a bitter taste.

Tessa, the quietest of the group, glances up from her computer and chimes in, “You need this, Selene. It’ll be fun. We’ll all be there, and you won’t have to think about... him.”

I know they mean well, but the thought of going out—especially on Halloween—feels exhausting. I just got dumped, my job’s a dead end, and lately, everything feels stagnant. I’ve been stuck in this cycle of routine, and it’s suffocating.

“I don’t know if I’m up for it,” I say, trying to dodge their insistence.

“We’re not taking no for an answer,” Lila declares, crossing her arms over her chest. “You deserve a night out. We’re meeting at 10 p.m., and you’re coming.”

There’s no getting out of this.

“Fine,” I relent with a sigh, “but don’t expect me to be all ‘woo, let’s party!’”

Evie winks at me. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll take care of the partying. You just show up.”

As the day drags on, I can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. When 5 p.m. finally rolls around, I pack up my things and head home, the cool D.C. air doing little to ease the weight in my stomach. I’ve never been the girl who loves going out. My friends? Sure. But me? I’ve always been the one in the background.

Once I get home, I stand in front of my closet, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. It’s Halloween. Everyone’s going to be dressed up, and I should be too. But nothing feels right. I’m not one of those girls who can throw on anything and look amazing. My friends? They can pull off the daring outfits. Me? I’m just... average.

I run my fingers through my hair, the loose brown waves falling messily over my shoulders. My eyes, a pale blue that I’ve always thought seemed too dull, stare back at me from the reflection. I’m not tall like Lila, or petite like Evie. I’m somewhere in the middle—average height, average body, average everything. There’s nothing remarkable about me. And that fact digs at me as I sift through my closet.

I pull out a little black dress that I haven’t worn in ages. It’s tight in all the wrong places, clinging to my hips and stomach, highlighting everything I wish it didn’t. I feel self-conscious just looking at it.

I grab a pair of fishnets and throw on a leather jacket for good measure. Maybe the jacket will help me feel less... exposed. I don’t love the way I look, but it’ll have to do. My friends will be here soon, and I can’t hide in my apartment forever.

As I stand in front of the mirror, I study my reflection, trying to summon some form of confidence. My makeup is heavier than usual—dark eyeliner framing my eyes, bold lipstick that feels foreign on my lips. I don’t usually go for looks this intense, but it’s Halloween, so why not?

Still, why does everything I wear make me feel like I’m trying too hard?

I glance at my phone and see the group chat with Lila, Evie, and Tessa lighting up with messages about the night ahead. They’re excited, sending selfies of their outfits. Lila, of course, looks stunning. Her curly black hair always falls perfectly, and she’s got this effortless confidence that I’ve envied since we met in college. Evie’s hair is in loose blonde waves, and she looks like she just walked off a magazine cover. Tessa, quiet and bookish, still manages to look chic in whatever she throws on.

I met them during my freshman year at Georgetown. We were all so different, but we just clicked. Back then, I thought I had a plan—a direction. I was going to get a degree, find a meaningful job, and make something of myself. But here I am, two years out of college, stuck in a dead-end office job with no real direction. Meanwhile, my friends seem to have it all together. They’re moving forward, and I’m just... standing still.

I don’t regret the decision to leave my family behind, though. I never wanted to be part of their world—the political world of Washington, D.C. My father’s in Congress, my mother’s on various high-profile boards, and my brother’s being groomed for a Senate seat. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps, to become part of the machine. But I couldn’t do it. I never wanted the spotlight, the scrutiny, or the endless games of manipulation.

Still, I wish I had some meaning to my life. Something that made me feel like I was doing more than just getting by.

I sigh, adjusting the jacket and looking at myself one last time. Maybe tonight will help me forget all that—at least for a little while. Maybe it’ll be enough to pull me out of this rut, even if it’s just for a few hours. I pick up my phone and send a message to the group, letting them know I’m on my way .

With a sigh, I grab my bag and head out the door, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead.

The club is in a part of D.C. I’ve never been to before. The building looms ahead of me, bathed in red neon lights that cast an eerie glow on the sidewalk. A massive line snakes around the block, and as I approach, I can already hear the thumping bass from inside. The sign above the entrance reads “The Hunt,” in jagged letters that look almost like they’re bleeding.

Of course it’s called The Hunt.

I spot Lila, Evie, and Tessa waiting near the entrance, their excitement practically radiating off them.

“Look at this place!” Lila exclaims, throwing her arms wide. “It’s perfect!”

I can’t deny the club has a certain allure, but the line... “Do we really have to wait in that?” I ask, eyeing the crowd.

“Ugh, I know,” Evie huffs, crossing her arms. “It’s not moving at all.”

“Well,” I begin, already hoping for an easy escape, “maybe we should just?—”

Before I can finish, a man approaches us from the shadows. He’s wearing all black, his billowing robe almost brushing the ground. But it’s the skull mask that catches me off guard—unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The detail is haunting, almost too real. He stops in front of us, his presence sending a chill down my spine.

“You’ve been invited inside,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

Lila and Evie exchange excited glances. “Amazing!” Lila gushes.

But something feels off. My instincts scream at me to leave, but my feet stay rooted to the ground. I follow my friends as they trail behind the skull-masked man, stepping out of the line and into the club.

Inside, The Hunt is even darker than I expected. Red neon lights illuminate the space, casting eerie shadows across the dance floor. The music is loud, vibrating through the air, and the room is packed with people—most of them women, dancing in wild abandon. But what really catches my attention are the men. They’re scattered across the floor, wearing the same black robes and skull masks as the man who escorted us in. Something about them feels... off. Like they don’t quite belong here.

“Look at this place!” Evie shouts over the music, her eyes wide with excitement.

I nod, but my gaze keeps drifting upward. That’s when I see them.

On a raised platform, high above the dance floor, sit four men—one in each corner. They’re dressed just like the others, but everything about them is different. Their presence is commanding, almost oppressive. Even from this distance, I can feel the weight of their gaze, like they’re watching me. Judging me.

I can’t tear my eyes away from them.

Each man is seated with a certain stillness, as if they’re waiting for something... or someone. The masks they wear are intricate, detailed with symbols I can’t decipher, but it’s their postures that draw me in. Confident. Powerful. Dangerous.

“Selene, here.” Tessa hands me a drink, pulling me back to reality.

I take it, my hands shaking slightly as I bring the glass to my lips, but I can’t stop glancing back up at the platform. Those men... who are they? And why can’t I shake the feeling that they’re watching me?