Werewolves of the Red Moon

Chapter 1

ONE

NATALIE

His eyes. They’re haunting. Lifeless. A black and murderous void.

I can see the terror in my own face when he lifts me from the red room floors still stained in Courtney’s blood.

The arrow, my only weapon in this fight, is somewhere near my kicking feet.

Not that it’d help. Not when I’m suspended at least three feet in the air by my neck alone.

His mouth spreads into a carnivorous grin complete with long strands of spittle pooling down each side of his large jowls.

The teeth are the least of my concerns, though.

It’s his blood-soaked claws collapsing my windpipe I worry about most. Tears cool my reddened face, but I know deep down I’m not crying.

My body is simply reacting to the life being squeezed out of me.

No amount of tears will get me out of this.

I’m powerless against him. I have nothing to protect—

I sent you this to protect you, Nikolai had said and showed me what happens to a wolf when kissed by the only thing known to affect them.

Silver. The one weakness the lore ever got right about them.

His thumb and forefinger sizzled, and thin lines of smoke danced above his palm.

It had to cause some kind of discomfort.

Pain despite the layers of human skin hiding the beast most vulnerable.

Maybe it’ll be enough to hurt one that’s fully transformed.

Lifting my hand slowly, I reach for the crescent moon tapping against my collarbone.

I have one shot. One chance at escaping all of this.

And I’ll be damned if I go out without leaving a few scars of my own.

It's cold to the touch. Sharp against my skin. If I can just—

The wolf grabs me by the wrist and uses its other arm to hoist me higher.

The menacing snarl grows lethal in my ears as every other sense seemingly dissipates.

I can’t see the monster less than a foot from me anymore, only the blurry image of glowing eyes and knife-like teeth.

I tug again and again at the necklace to no avail, fighting not only the silver clasp but Viktor’s supernatural strength.

My toes go numb first. Then my legs. My fingers soon follow suit.

And finally, my arms drop to the side before everything goes black.

I reach for the necklace again only to find the hem of my shirt.

Above that, a noticeable amount of sweat on my throat.

There’s a soreness sure, but no necklace.

The room feels different, the bloody stench replaced with metal and most concerning of all, urine.

I open my eyes and adjust to the harsh fluorescent lights fixed to the ceiling.

Where the hell am I? This isn’t the red room, this is— Shock ripples through me as over a dozen frightened people stare back.

Most are unconscious, and the ones that are awake all have the same distressed look of panic on their faces.

Some are whimpering but the majority rock silently in the fetal position, muttering pleas and prayers to themselves.

This isn’t Club Volk. I’m not sure where the hell we are.

All I do know is we aren’t locked in some backroom. We’re locked in a cage.

“Good morning, Natalia,” he says, every syllable dripping a familiar venom.

I don’t have to see him to recognize his voice.

No, I don’t think I’ll ever unhear the cold, condescending tone whenever he says my name.

His glowing eyes are the first to appear from the shadows of the room, then, his wide frame.

He didn’t kill me, not unless the afterlife comes complete with roommates and the worst form of torture possible—his taunting fucking voice.

So where did he bring me? And what did he do with her?

What was once concern is replaced with white hot rage boiling my insides.

My fingers crack as my nails bite into my palms. What did he do to her body? What did he do with Courtney?

Everyone in the cell flinches as he approaches, dragging his long, unnatural nails on the metal.

An earsplitting screech plays in tune with the small whines of those around me.

While everyone else scatters away, I stand tall, regaining the feeling in my numb legs.

My knees buckle, but I won’t give this bastard the pleasure of seeing another plaything in his little twenty by twenty toy box cower before him.

No, I’ve seen him at his worst, and for some reason … I’m not afraid.

“What did you do with her, Viktor?”

He smirks and I fucking despise him for it. “Who? Your friend? Don’t worry, her body will be put to good use. We tend to have large appetites.” Viktor runs his tongue along the length of his canine, arching one brow in enjoyment.

My face twists with anger. Tears sting my eyes.

They aren’t going to dispose of her somewhere in LA, they’re going to make sure there’s nothing left to find.

Nothing of Courtney that would link her back to Volk.

He’s not bluffing. I have no choice but to believe him when their pack has apparently mastered taking humans for years without raising suspicion.

She will end up another face tacked on a missing persons board, and I’m the only one that will ever know the truth.

My heart doesn’t just break, it shatters.

“Where am I?” I say, fighting the nausea and stomach acid bubbling up my throat.

The last thing I remember was this monster grabbing me by the throat, his claw large and lethal, and eyes as black as onyx.

The Viktor staring down at me now is different.

A human mask hiding the real monstrosity the rest of the world would sooner dismiss as fiction.

Werewolves are real, and Viktor Vostik might be the most dangerous one.

His smirk deepens, and there’s a flash of amusement in his gray eyes. “Home.”

Home? No, he can’t mean …

“You wanted to travel, right?” Viktor peers at me, his sharp gaze skirting over the dirt on my arms and face. “Nikolai was going to take you to Italy, after all. Abandon his family, his birthright, all for some insignificant little rodent.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, gritting my teeth. Vomit heaves up my throat, but I won’t give this sadistic fuck the satisfaction of puking out my insides.

A snide chuckle. “Nothing happens in my pack without my knowledge. Well, almost nothing.” Viktor struts to the corner, scraping his nails the entire way. Everyone around me cups their ears, but I do little else than glare at him more intently.

“While my brother was entertaining you and your friend—”

“Her name is Courtney,” I interrupt him, crossing my arms over my chest.

Viktor smirks again, almost relishing in the thought.

Her life meant nothing to this monster, and because of me, her blood is probably all that’s left on the red room floors.

Natalie, she had said, tears streaming down each cheek.

It’s my fault. I knew what these things were and still brought her back to the club. I killed her.

“Courtney,” he laughs with malice, shaking my thoughts.

“Between entertaining you and Courtney, and planning his little escape, I too had a plan. Your trip here. No wolf, not even a Vostik, can betray the pack without paying in blood and flesh. And for my brother, I am more than happy to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. ”

“And you dragged me around the world to do what? Taunt me? Spite Nik? What’s wrong, Viktor? Daddy wouldn’t let you play alpha, so now you’re throwing a temper tantrum?”

All of the other captives take a tentative step back or crawl away from the bars.

I don’t know which side they’ve seen of Viktor, but I can almost guarantee I’ve seen the worst of him.

We stare at one another, and while I can’t be certain, I feel every other pair of eyes in the cell watching me provoke him in sheer disbelief.

He slams his large fists against the bars, bending them under his monstrous strength. “I AM THE ALPHA.” His eyes bulge, and the gray surrenders to the black filling his pupils. “Nikolai has only proved time and time again he is weak. A disgrace to our kind.”

The rage in his features drains in an instant.

He rights himself, brushes the dust raining down from the ceiling off each shoulder, and stares at me once more.

Viktor cracks his neck to the side, seemingly contemplating for a moment.

Maybe he’s deciding on whether or not he’s going to kill me, after all.

His sharp jawline flexes. And then, a nauseating grin appears.

“Don’t worry, Natalia. You’ll join your friend Courtney soon.

The blood moon is coming, and after I’m done gnawing on the tastiest parts of you, I’ll send what’s left to the traitor.

Then, my father will see just how weak his firstborn heir truly is. ”

I stand taller, ignoring the threat, and the top of my head barely reaches his chest. “He’ll come for me. And you’ll see what a real alpha is.”

“Good,” Viktor snarls, a low guttural sound starting at his stomach and bellowing up his throat.

He doesn’t look back at me when he climbs the stone staircase, his massive form swaying in the light from the door atop this cellar.

Viktor rips the door open and glares down at me. “Then he can fucking watch.”

He slams the door shut, and everyone shudders.

Including me.

There’s two of them. Two large rats circling around the group of us, stopping every few feet to sniff the air with their heads arched.

They might be taking inventory and waiting for one of us to die and eat what’s left.

They aren’t afraid of people like the rats at my apartment in LA.

They don’t scurry away from sunlight or the slightest movement.

These rodents are drawn to it. Waiting for it.

As if one of us might start suddenly convulsing and ring the dinner bell.

These rats are hunting. And what we are to the wolves upstairs is no different than these abnormally large creatures down here. Their next meal.

I inspect myself, noting the similar clothing I share with my cellmates.

A large, plain gray shirt falls in wrinkles around my hips, and the sweatpants seem to match, give or take a shade or two.

Remnants of blood stain my neckline. Not a concerning amount, but enough to know the last person to wear this didn’t survive whatever hell the Vostik pack put them through.

I guess I can count myself lucky. My prisoner attire is not nearly as tarnished as some of the others.

Claw marks. Chunks missing from the sleeves and torso.

There’s one thing alarmingly clear as I glance around the room, though.

All of the clothes will be worse for wear after the next full moon.

The blood moon, Viktor called it. Four words ring in my head.

Four unnerving syllables to be exact. We. Are. All. Fucked.

I maneuver the crowd, pushing my way through to the middle and close to the bars no one else dares to go near.

There’s safety in the center, they probably think.

No, not a single one of us is safe in any facet.

All I know is if Viktor or any of his followers wanted me dead, they could’ve handled it stateside at Volk, not in the belly of their werewolf den thousands of miles away.

They want us all alive. Healthy enough to run I assume.

A wolf longs for the hunt, after all. And everyone down here is nothing more than something for the Vostik pack to chase.

“Nat—Natalie?” A weary voice croaks out as I step over the tangle of legs hiding the rough cement floors.

I glance to my right, and when I do, the pit in my stomach I’ve had since I woke up here nosedives.

Platinum-blonde hair drapes in knots down her shoulders while the streaks of brown are visible at her scalp.

She peers up at me, hope in her swollen and red-rimmed eyes.

They’re unmistakeable. No. This isn’t happening.

Not now. Not here. I close my eyes, hoping whatever version of hell Viktor dragged me to is something I can wake from.

When I open them, the cage is more cramped than before, and her gaze is fixed on me alone. Of course it’s not a dream.

It isn’t bad enough I have an entire werewolf pack preparing to serve me up like a hog on a spit. Here I am, trapped in a cage I’m not so sure I’ll walk away from, and yet … it’s somehow gotten tremendously worse.

Veronica fucking Tate.

She stands, wipes the tears from her cheeks, and wraps her small arms around me.

“They got you, too!” she says and whimpers into my shoulder.

I pat her back on impulse, a few subtle pats like I’m touching a hot stovetop.

She doesn’t let go. No, why would she? Veronica tightens her grip and pulls me in closer.

I was right before. We. Are. All. Fucked.