Eighth-Born Luna novel · Chapter 2 of 16

Chapter 2: The Southern Gate

The stranger is the Alpha King's son, and nobody has ever sat by him willingly; Rosalie bolts, fights Hugh at the southern gate, and a huge black wolf clears it behind her.

Three hundred wolves stared at me.

Nobody breathed.

Up on the stage, Genevieve's smile froze halfway.

"Why are they looking at us?" I whispered.

My voice shook so hard I barely got the words out.

The stranger looked me over slowly.

My bruised cheek. My hacked-off hair. The white dress that hung off my shoulders.

One corner of his mouth lifted.

"Because nobody has ever sat next to me by choice. You're the first."

I followed his gaze to the front of the hall.

To the empty royal chair beside Alpha King Garrett.

Then back to the tattoos on his arms.

My stomach dropped through the floor.

The King had brought his eldest son.

His son had not sat on the stage.

He was sitting here.

And I had just fallen into his lap in front of the whole pack.

"Interesting," he murmured, and his thumb moved once across the inside of my wrist.

Every nerve in my arm lit up.

Over his shoulder I saw Tristan.

His jaw was locked. His knuckles were white on Genevieve's waist.

Beta Hugh was already shoving through the crowd toward me, teeth bared.

I ripped my hand back.

The prince let go, surprised.

I ran.

"Stop her!" someone shouted.

I didn't look back.

I shoved through the kitchen door and slid on the wet tiles where my own hair still lay in piles.

I caught myself on the counter and kept going.

Out the back door. Across the vegetable garden. Past the smokehouse where Tristan once shared his apples with me.

The southern gate stood black against the trees.

My hands were shaking so hard the key missed the lock twice.

"Going somewhere, Omega?"

Hugh slammed into me from behind.

My face hit the iron bars.

He pinned me with his whole weight, one hand flat on the back of my head.

"You made a fool of me in front of the King," he breathed. "Tristan's going to let me go first now."

The key had fallen in the dirt.

I could see it glinting by my foot.

"Nyx," I begged.

For ten years she had been a whisper.

A tired, sick little voice that slept most days.

Now something opened its eyes inside me.

Heat poured down my arms.

My gums ached.

Hugh's hand slid down to my jaw, and I turned my head and bit him.

I bit him hard enough to feel bone.

He howled and staggered back, clutching his hand.

I dropped, snatched the key and jammed it into the lock.

It turned.

I slipped through and slammed the gate shut.

Hugh hit the bars a second later.

I turned the key and pulled it out, and he couldn't reach it.

"Open it!" He rattled the iron so hard dust rained off the hinges. "You're dead, you hear me? I'll find you. I'll bring you back on a leash."

Blood ran down his wrist in a bright line.

I stared at it.

I had done that.

Me.

"Run," Nyx said.

I ran.

The forest swallowed the packhouse lights within a minute.

Pine needles stabbed my bare feet. Branches whipped my arms.

Behind me the pack horns started up, one long note after another.

The hunting call.

They had never once blown it for me.

I didn't know where I was going.

I only knew north led to the mountains, and south led to the river, and neither one led back.

I chose south.

Then I heard it.

Not a horn.

Not Hugh.

Something heavy hit the ground on my side of the gate, far behind me.

Paws.

Huge paws, running fast and silent, gaining on me with every stride.

I glanced back once.

A black wolf the size of a pony was coming through the trees.

Its eyes were gold.

And they were fixed on me.

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