The Killmoon Pack was one of the strongest and most powerful packs in the country. Out of the seven existing packs, they ruled the largest land. stretching across three states, covering forests, hills, and even human towns. Everyone, both werewolf and human, knew not to mess with them.
At the center of all this power was Moon-grove, the town that served as the heartbeat of the Killmoon Pack. Life here was busy and full of energy. Children ran through the woods, warriors trained in the open fields, and elders gathered at the packhouse to guide the young. Everyone had a role. Everyone knew where they stood.
At the very top were the Spelmans.
The Spelman family had led the pack for generations. Their name was known in every corner of the land. And now, the one leading them was Damon Spelman. At only twenty-three, he was already feared and respected. His aura was so strong that even older alphas bowed when he passed.
His younger brother, David, stood right beside him. As the beta of the pack, David was sharp, loyal, and just as dangerous. The two brothers were close like shadows. Where Damon went, David followed.
Their story, however, was not without pain.
Their parents, Vance and Sasha Spelman, were once loved by all. Strong, kind, and wise leaders. But everything changed the day they were betrayed and killed. Not by enemies from outside but by family.
"Uncle Moses," David had said quietly one night, staring into the fire. "He didn't even blink when he stabbed Mom in the back."
Damon didn't speak. His jaw clenched. His hands turned into fists.
They had been just boys. Damon was ten, and David only eight, when it happened. Their uncle had killed their parents to take the alpha title. But the pack didn't accept him. The blood bond with the Spelmans was too strong.
Instead, Damon, who's still a child, inherited the demon wolf..the rare, and monstrous form passed down through the Spelman bloodline. It was massive, fast, and unbeatable in a fight. When Damon shifted for the first time at sixteen, the entire pack watched in awe. Warriors from other packs fell to their knees. The Spelmans would remain in power.
"He wanted the power. But he underestimated us," Damon had said. "And now, he's hiding like a coward."
No one knew where Moses had gone. Some whispered he was dead. Others believed he was still out there, waiting, watching, and planning.
Despite the loss, Damon took on the role of Alpha. He trained harder than anyone. Led better than any man twice his age. He made Moon-grove stronger. Safer. And richer.
While the Spelmans and other noble families thrived, not everyone in the Killmoon Pack lived well.
Families like the Fitzgeralds struggled.
George and Samantha Fitzgerald were hardworking but poor. George was one of the best fighters in the pack, but since he wasn't from a powerful bloodline, he remained a foot soldier. No title and no influence. Samantha came from the same kind of background. They lived in a small house on the edge of town, barely getting by. Yet, they held onto one thing: hope.
Their hope was their daughter, Victoria.
"She's going to change everything for us," George would say proudly.
"She's special," Samantha added, brushing Victoria's long black hair. "The Oracle had seen it."
Victoria had been born under a blood moon. The Oracle…the old healer and seer who lived deep in the woods had whispered during her birth, "She's marked for something great."
And from that day, Victoria was spoiled beyond reason.
Everything they had, every coin, every gift, was for her. Expensive clothes, new boots, even rare training weapons. Meanwhile, her little sister, Vera, was not seen and almost forgotten.
"She's only five. She doesn't need much," Samantha would say whenever Vera asked for anything.
But the truth was different.
Victoria knew her power. Even as a child, she was fierce, proud, and mean. She bullied Vera, insulted her, and made her feel worthless. George and Samantha looked the other way.
"She's just teasing," George would say.
"She's a leader. Vera needs to toughen up," Samantha would add.
The pack's attention was on Victoria. Her strength, her quick shifting, her combat skills, all was beyond her age. She was the prodigy of the Fitzgeralds.
But darkness stirred within her.
While Victoria trained with the elite, Vera watched from afar, her eyes were filled with silent hurt. No one saw the way her hands trembled. Or how she cried quietly at night.
And yet, no one cared.
Meanwhile, outside the pack's internal struggles, a darker threat was growing. one that even Damon couldn't ignore.
The Cult of Herod.
Born from betrayal, this cult started after Moses vanished. They preached violence. They claimed werewolves were meant to rule over humans. They murdered without guilt and believed power came only through bloodshed.
"Any news?" Damon asked his head tracker, one evening, standing on the roof of the packhouse, looking out over the dark forest.
"They're ghosts, Alpha," the man replied. "We catch a whisper here, a trail there… but they vanish before we get close."
"They were born from this pack," Damon said coldly. "So we will be the ones to destroy them."
David stepped up beside him. "Other alphas are growing impatient."
Damon nodded. "Let them. We'll deliver them heads. One by one."
But despite all the effort, the cult remained hidden and maybe distanced. And within the shadows of Moon-grove, something was changing.
One evening, as the sun set and the forest turned gold, a strange scent passed through the wind. It smelled metallic but wrong.
Damon stiffened.
"Do you smell that?" he asked, turning toward the woods.
David's face grew serious. "Blood. But it's mixed with something else."
At that exact moment, miles away, in the town's poorest corner, Victoria stood still outside her home. Her eyes were wide, and her nose twitched.
"What is that smell?" she whispered.
Vera stood beside her, trembling. "It… it smells like fire and…"
"And death," Victoria finished, frowning. "It smells like death."
Suddenly, the earth trembled slightly.
Only for a second.
Then silence. George burst out of the house, breathing hard. "Girls! Inside! Now!"
"What's happening?" Vera cried, but her father ignored her. He stared out at the darkening sky, his face pale.
Samantha joined him, her voice was shaking as she spoke. "George… you don't think…"
His reply was a whisper.
"He's close."
Back at the packhouse, Damon stood at the edge of the forest. The moon was rising. And in the distance, far beyond the trees, a deep howl echoed across the hills.
Not a normal howl. One that hadn't been heard in years. The howl of a banished alpha.
The howl of Moses Spelman.