Page 24 of The Blood Moon Hunt

I scream. The sound rips from my throat, raw and animalistic, as if my very soul is being torn apart. The energy that has always been mine—the storm I’ve carried inside me for as long as I can remember—is being dragged out, piece by agonizing piece. It feels like blood draining from a wound that won’t close.

“Stop!” I choke out, my voice breaking. My hands claw at the floor, at the invisible chains binding me. “Please, stop!”

They don’t. Their voices rise, a cacophony of power and control, drowning out my pleas. The runes tighten their hold, dragging more and more of the energy from me. I feel hollow, a gaping void opening in my chest where my power used to be.

“Please!” I scream again, my vision blurring with tears. My body shakes, every muscle straining against the unrelenting force. “I don’t want this! Make it stop!”

The tallest man steps forward, his face illuminated by the sickly green glow. His expression is cold, almost clinical, as if he’s dissecting an insect. “This is necessary, Damien,” he says, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Your power is too wild. Too dangerous. We are taming it. Taming you.”

The word hits me like a blow. Taming. Like I’m some kind of animal. My rage flares, igniting what’s left of the storm inside me. For a moment, the runes falter, and I feel a surge of raw, desperate energy. I lash out, the power exploding from me in a blinding flash of light.

The men stagger, their chanting disrupted, but they recover quickly. The runes flare brighter, their grip turning from chains to claws, digging into my skin. The energy is ripped from me with brutal force, leaving nothing but pain in its wake.

I collapse onto the cold stone floor, gasping for breath. My body feels weak, trembling as if I’ve been wrung dry. I can barely lift my head, but when I do, I see the glow of the runes fading, their task complete. The men stand over me, their faces unreadable.

I reach for the power, for the storm that has always been there, but it’s gone. Or, rather, it’s not mine anymore. I feel its absence like a missing limb, an ache that goes deeper than bone.

“You’re bound to us now,” the tall man says, his voice echoing in the cavern. “Your power is ours to command. In exchange, we will grant you strength—enough to fulfill your role.”

I lift my head, my vision swimming as I glare at him. “What role?” I rasp, my voice barely audible.

His smile is sharp, cruel. “You’ll see.”

I try to push myself up, but my limbs won’t obey. My body feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else. My gaze drifts to my wrist, where the skin feels hot, tender. I blink, my heart sinking as I see it—a dark ring tattooed into my skin, stark against the pale flesh. It wasn’t there before.

“What is this?” I whisper, my voice trembling. I try to rub at it, to scrape it away, but it doesn’t budge. It’s not just a mark. It’s a brand.

“The mark of the Binding,” the man says, his tone almost pleased. “A reminder of who you are now. And who you belong to.”

Belong to. The words sink in like knives, twisting in my gut. I clench my fists, the fight in me flickering weakly, like a flame struggling against the wind. My chest heaves as I try to breathe, but the air feels thin, suffocating.

I glance at the mark again, the reality of it crashing over me like a wave. My power—the one thing that was mine, the one thing that made me more than this hollow shell—is gone. Taken. Bound.

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve already given them enough. I won’t give them my grief too.

They leave me there, broken and alone in the dark. The last words of their chant echo in the cavern, a haunting reminder of what I’ve lost.

The weight of the mark on my wrist feels heavier than any chain. And for the first time in my life, I feel truly powerless.

Chapter

Fifteen

LUCIEN

The moon hangs low in the sky, its pale light cutting through the thick canopy above me as I stalk through the forest. The air is cool, crisp, but my blood feels like fire beneath my skin. Every step I take, every shift in the shadows, only serves to fan the flames of my frustration.

Damien.

His name hisses in my mind, a bitter echo that I can’t shake. He’s always been too close to her. Too protective. Too... something. It’s maddening. The way he looks at her, the way she responds to him—it makes my jaw clench, my fists curl into tight balls. This Hunt is supposed to be my chance, my time to finally step out of Damien’s shadow and claim what should be mine.

She’s not like the others. No, she’s different—powerful in ways I’m still trying to understand. And that power... it calls to me, like a moth to flame. I need it. I needher.

I push forward, my senses on high alert as I track them. I know they’re together. The connection between them is too strong for me to ignore. But she won’t be his. Not for long.

The trees thin out slightly, and I catch a glimmer of movement ahead. My pulse quickens, but before I can move closer, a presence shifts behind me. I turn, my instincts sharpening. It’s Ronan.

He emerges from the shadows, his expression dark and furious, still recovering from his last encounter with the girl. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, we stand there in silence, the tension between us heavy and palpable.

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