When The Moon Hides Her Crown novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10 The Hunter’s Trial

SERAPHINA

The Alpha who’d set his eye on me from the very beginning, the one I wanted to keep as far away from me as possible, was now both my hunter and my prey.

But I, Seraphina, refused to be hunted. I would only become prey when it suited me.

The echo of the hom hadn’t even faded before I moved. My pulse thundered in my ears as I bolted forward, shoving myself into the crush of Alpha hopefuls surging toward the forest. I didn’t spare a glance to see where Ronan stood. I didn’t have to I could feel his gaze, sharp and cold, like the edge of a blade ghosting across my throat. A predator’s stare. A reaper’s mark.

Run. Run now,

I bled into the crowd, jostling shoulders, ducking low, my lean frame weaving effortlessly between the bulkier bodies of the male Alphas. I kept my head down, breath shallow, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to claw its way free. Every nerve in my body screamed to shift, to let my wolf take over–but I couldn’t

If anyone looked too closely, if someone noticed the slender cut of my limbs, the unnatural grace in my stride, it would all be

Over.

I risked a glance over my

Ronan

shoulder.

He had finally stepped into the crowd, moving with a slow, almost lazy gait–eyes locked on me. Every step he took was deliberate, inevitable. Like a storm rolling in. Like a death sentence. The reaper he was rumored to be, clad in shadow and silent promise.

The pack of Alphas around me thinned fast as each broke away to begin their hunt. The evening air filled with snarls and shouted curses as bodies shifted into wolves, pelts flashing silver and black beneath the fractured moonlight.

But I didn’t slow. I pushed harder, darting between a pair of snarling wolves mid–lunge, their clash buying me precious seconds. My only goal was the finish line. Fight only when forced. Survive. That was all.

And then–an abrupt, sharp pain deep in my gut. Not instinct. A warning.

I glanced to my right, and there he was.

Dante

His eyes found mine through the chaos of bodies and branches, dark and dangerous. His expression was unreadable, but the intent behind his gaze was unmistakable. A slow, knowing grin curved his lips.

“Seth Darven,” he murmured.

I clenched my fists. He’d made me his prey as well.

“Fuck.” I cursed under my breath and dove toward the treeline.

The cursed forest swallowed me whole, a rush of mist and shifting shadows closing in around me. I’d heard of this place before. Legends spoke of bloodstained trees, of unseen predators, of the spirits of failed Alphas trapped forever between the gnarled roots. The forest itself was a curse.

Instantly, the air changed. Thick. Heavy. It clung to my skin, cold and wet, and the sounds of the hunt dulled to muted howls. The ancient trees curled their branches like claws overhead. The earth beneath my feet was soft, treacherous, as though it longed to drag me down into its depths.

But I didn’t stop

I couldn’t

I knew better than anyone what happened to those who hesitated here.

My lungs burned. The wound from my earlier fight tugged painfully with every stride. I zigzagged between trees, clinging to

14 PM

Chapter 10 The Hunter’s Trial

the dense undergrowth where the mist was thickest, the shadows deepest.

+8 Pearls

Wasting time hunting others was a fool’s game. The finish line was the only thing that mattered. It was madness to be hunted —or worse, cornered–by not one, but two unhinged Alphas.

Suddenly, something moved to my left. A low growl. The snap of twigs.

Someone was there.

Phina, my wolf, snarled against my skin, desperate to fight.

“A wolf’s sensed us,” she warned.

I dropped low, tucking myself behind a fallen log as cover. The Alpha barreled past, too focused on his own prey to notice me crouched in the shadows.

I waited for a beat. Then I moved again.

Every breath was a battle, every step a gamble.

I was faster than most of them in human form. If I shifted, I’d be quicker still–but it wasn’t worth the risk. Someone sharp enough might see the lie in my shape.

And right now, one mistake meant death.

I stopped for a moment, catching my breath as my eyes darted to a weathered map tacked to a gnarled tree trunk. The finish. line wasn’t marked, but I knew where it lay. Past the old creek, where the cursed forest thinned and the crumbling ruins of the Academy’s ancient watchtower stood like a skeletal hand against the sky. I fixed the image in my mind like a beacon.

But just as I turned to move forward, a massive wolf landed in front of me, snarling.

I froze. Black eyes? It was not Ronan. Not Dante. Then who was hel

The wolf snarl, teeth bared at me.

Damn it. It challenged me to fight but there was no way I was shifting!

I dropped low, grabbing a thick branch and swinging it upward when he least expected it. It cracked across the Alpha’s face with a sharp crack. He reeled back, blood spraying. Before he could recover, I spun and sprinted deeper into the trees.

I didn’t look back while the mist thickened and the sound of howls of the wolves in the distance. Fighting. Struggling.

But the path ahead of me was strangely clear. And when I glanced back there was no one. Phina grew alert in my mind. How was it possible that no one was coming? But what was this feeling of being watched?

Branches whipped at my face. Thorns bit into my

And then a very strange noise froze me.

A wet, sickening crunch somewhere ahead.

For some reason my heart stuttered and every muscle tensed.

My instincts screamed for me to turn back to find another route but the path ahead was the short cut that led to the finish line The terrain chewhere was too thick, the mist too blinding. If I hesitated now, I’d lose my lead

Swallowing hard, I crept forward, keeping low to the ground, my senses sharp, alert,

Then a stench hit me. Coppery. Metallic. Heavy with death.

Limbs. Scattered like broken dolls. An arm hanging limp from a branch, a booted foot severed mid–calf resting beside at jagged rock. The earth slick with blood, mud turning to crimson paste.

My stomach lurched violently. Dante. he was eating his own friend. He was not even in his wolf form, he was human….

Jordan’s glassy, unseeing eyes stared at the misty canopy overhead, mouth forever parted in a silent scream. Watching Dante eat his own friend, my whole body grew cold. How could he do this? Eat a person.

Dante’s broad frame was dappled in blood, some of it his, most of it not. His dark hair hung damply over his forehead, a tail of blood ran down his mouth to throat

My wolf froze in my mind at that smile. It wasn’t the usual twisted mask of hatred he wore whenever he looked at me. No sneer. No cold disdain. It was… different

Dark.

And bloodthirsty.

The corners of his lips tugged up in a way that made every hair on the back of my neck rise, a quiet, deadly thing that spoke of too many emotions I couldn’t name.

And in that moment, it terrified me more than the blood in his mouth.

I immediately spuri.

Leaves and earth scattered beneath my boots as I bolted down the side path, branches clawing at my arms.

I didn’t get far before I bumped into a solid wall of muscle.

I stumbled and almost fell when a hand reached out and grabbed my hand. I found myself in the mid air, and looked up to the person Bare–chested. He was Ronan. His pants soaked and streaked with crimson, his hands slick with blood. A wolf’s severed head dangled carelessly from his other hand, its glassy eyes dull and lifeless. Behind him, two bodies lay crumpled, one half–shifted mid–transition, the other’s throat torn clean through.

My lungs clamped tight. He he too and way more brutal than anything had ever seen.

I pulled my hand back and took a step back, my large eyes staring at his blood splashed handsome face. He was a beast. And this wasn’t a trial.

The Academy–the place I thought was built to test, to mold future Alphas and the place to win that unclaimed throne of hundred years wasn’t made of stone and sweat.

It was a graveyard

And the predators were standing right in front of me..

Chapter 10 The Hunter’s Trial

I felt my stomach knot, bile burning at the back of her throat

+ Pearts

Ronan’s gaze slid down my body, noting the tension in my frame, the horror in my wide eyes. His bloodstained lips twitched

way that wasn’t quite a

Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he tossed the wolf’s head aside. It landed with a dull thud.

Before I could react, he stepped closer, has chest nearly brushing mine. I gasped as the coppery scent of blood and earth clung to his skin, hit my nose.

I pulled away and dropped instinctively into a fighting stance, my fingers curling, ready to strike, to claw, to rip if I had to

But Konan didn’t lift a hand.

He reached out, his blood–warm palm wrapping around my wrist. His grip was firm, unyielding but not cruel

And then he pulled me back to his chest, his voice dropped, low and rough threading into the fog around them as he asked in a whisper. “Why don’t you shift into your wolf?”

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