Bound by the Moon

The sun peers through the leaves in the thicket of rustling trees. Oh, how I long to be running through them with the wind in my fur instead of sitting in this stuffy classroom, listening to the same tired recounting that has been drummed into my ears—everyone’s ears, in fact—since that dreadful battle.

Never will I understand why taking lives is something to be proud of. Even when it is truly necessary for survival, I don’t believe one should feel pride in it—

“Lena!”

The teacher bangs a fist against the table, pulling me from my thoughts.

“You, of all people, should be most interested in this lecture, considering how it was your burdensome family that caused it in the first place! The nerve you have—to not pay attention—when you, in all your undeserving favor, have so graciously benefited from the outcome.”

Her words sting, but I say nothing. I never asked for this. I did not ask for my parents to flee their pack, to end up here, or to be murdered by spies. And I certainly did not ask for Alpha Thorne to attack our old pack for the sake of “avenging us.”

If it weren’t for that battle, the Ironclaw Pack wouldn’t have become the strongest and largest pack on the continent. If anyone benefited from that night, it was Alpha Thorne himself—not me. All I got was the privilege of being an orphan and an outcast, and yet they expect me to cheer.

“Since you don’t seem to find my teachings on the subject entertaining enough, perhaps you can come and enlighten the class with the happenings of that day.”

The teacher snarls at me, and with a sigh, I get up.

“Five years ago, soon after the death of Alpha Bruce, the ancient Silverwoods Pack sent their stealthiest spies to infiltrate these pack lands with the sole purpose of seeking out the family who had fled them and their archaic ways. They were experienced, fast, and precise, and managed to kill both the adults who had escaped. But they did not completely succeed, as our young new Alpha, Alpha Thorne, discovered them and drove them out, saving the daughter of the fallen wolves.

“Enraged by the attack on his lands and the demise of his guests, Alpha Thorne carefully planned an assault that would go down in the history books. It is said that the Silverwoods Pack never saw it coming. Their rumored magical history and vast size meant nobody dared to attack them—until that night. Even though the Ironclaw Pack was greatly outnumbered, Alpha Thorne’s strategic plan to strike quietly and stealthily, when most of the pack was asleep, ensured a glorious victory.

“The Silverwoods Pack was all but eradicated. The Alpha family was killed, and whichever of their wolves remained became rogues, scattered across the lands. The Ironclaw Pack, previously the second-largest pack, became the first, and now holds the most power across the continent.”

I recite the story exactly as it is always told, over and over again—rehearsed like a script.

“Yes, Lena, and tell the class, whose family was so blessed by the Alpha’s vengeance and protection?” The teacher smirks.

“Mine,” I answer. “Though I would not call it blessed protection, considering they were killed, not protected. And it surely wasn’t me who asked for vengeance. It doesn’t undo anything—it only adds to it.”

As soon as I finish my sentence, I already feel the sting on my back for the lashes I am likely to receive again.

“You insolent little dog! That vengeance—and Alpha Thorne’s gracious kindness—is the reason you are now in the largest, most powerful pack instead of in a ditch somewhere! Perhaps a trip to the headmaster will remind you that bowing in gratitude is the only position you ought to be in!”

I gather my books and start the long walk to punishment.

I am sure Miss Kent will lay it on extra thick when alerting Mr. Coil through the mind link that I am in need of lashes… again.

Mr. Coil is a fearfully disturbed man. Whoever decided he ought to head a school must have been absolutely mental.

Tall and thin, with a rigid, square face hardened by an utter lack of empathy, he is the kind of man who enjoys his authority far too much. His long black and grey hair is slickly gelled into a low ponytail, his thick, bushy eyebrows sitting like dark storm clouds beneath his stern spectacles.

Everything about him makes my skin crawl.

I could swear I saw him drooling the last time he beat me.

“Ah, Miss Morvain,” he drawls in a low, drawn-out voice. “I’m starting to think you enjoy my… edification.”

Chills run down my spine as I prepare for what comes next.

“You know the drill. Get to it,” he says, gesturing with his cane toward my dress.

I loosen the buttons and lower it down, using one hand to cover my bra as the other clings to the fabric hanging around my waist. I turn, facing his desk, bending slightly—as I have become so used to doing.

I clench my muscles.

The swoop of the cane comes first, then the sting as it burns through my skin.

I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. I will not allow him the delight he gets from my suffering.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I squeeze them shut. I will not cry. I will not give him that power.

I force my mind back to the rustling trees and the gentle breeze, trying to escape the eternity of pain.

After ten lashes, I am jolted back to reality as I feel him stepping closer behind me.

Whispering, he breathes into my ear, “I suppose I should tell you to improve your behavior… but then again, I do so enjoy teaching you manners.”

My skin crawls as I yank my dress back over my shoulders, ignoring the burning sensation as the fabric rubs against my fresh wounds.

Rushing to the dormitory, anger rises in my heart—at Miss Kent, at Mr. Coil, at the spies who orphaned me, and at the hierarchy within packs that allows a mere difference in opinion to become an offense punishable by degrading abuse.

This isn’t right.

What kind of world do we live in?

Lost in thought, I don’t see the tall figure in the hallway until I slam squarely into it.

My heart stops.

Lying on the ground, I see whose large, muscular back I ran into. His short, smooth hair perfectly frames his strong face. His square jaw tightens as his striking eyes peer down at me.

“Alpha Thorne.”