When the Luna Became Rogue

The morning sun beat down on the training grounds as pack members gathered for their daily drills. I stood at the edge, my healer's bag slung over my shoulder, watching the warriors pair off for combat practice. My muscles ached from lack of sleep—I'd spent most of the night trying to salvage what I could of my ceremonial gown.

"Attention!" Beta Marcus called out, his voice carrying across the field. "Today we focus on defensive maneuvers against rogues."

I turned to leave—as healer, I wasn't required to participate in combat training—when a familiar voice stopped me cold.

"Where's our future Luna hiding?" Lana's voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

She strode onto the training field, wearing tight-fitting workout clothes that showed off every curve. The warriors stopped their exercises, turning to watch the confrontation.

"I'm not hiding," I replied evenly, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "I'm observing."

Lana circled me like a predator, her eyes gleaming with malice. "A Luna should be strong enough to protect her pack, shouldn't she?"

"I protect the pack in my own way," I said, clutching my healer's bag tighter. "As a healer."

"A healer who can't even heal herself of weakness." Lana's laugh was sharp and cruel. "I challenge you, Sloan Miller. Right here, right now."

The training ground fell silent. Challenges between pack members were rare—challenges to the future Luna even rarer.

"I decline," I said firmly. "The pack laws clearly state that healers are protected from physical challenges during their service."

"Oh?" Lana's eyebrow arched. "And what law is that?"

"Section seven of the Ancient Covenant," I recited, my voice growing stronger. "Healers who serve the pack with dedication shall not be forced into combat that might endanger their ability to provide medical care."

Several warriors nodded—they knew I was right.

Lana's face twisted with rage. "You think you're so smart with your books and laws."

"I think I know my place," I said calmly. "And yours."

Her hand shot out faster than I expected, aiming for my face. I ducked and spun away—a move Malachi had taught me years ago when we trained together in secret.

The pack warriors gasped. No one had expected me to move so quickly.

"Where did you learn that?" Delta Kian asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

I didn't answer. I couldn't tell them about Malachi, about the hours we'd spent training when everyone thought we were gathering herbs.

---

The healing sanctuary was my refuge—the only place in the pack lands where I felt truly safe. Located in a small clearing near the eastern border, it housed my collection of herbs, books, and most importantly, my tablet.

I locked the door behind me and sank onto the wooden bench, pulling out the tablet with trembling fingers. Five years of research, countless experiments, all stored in its memory banks.

"Wolfsbane antidote, phase three," I murmured, scrolling through the files. "Rogue rehabilitation protocols. Ancient healing remedies from the Northern packs."

My finger hovered over the encryption button. Something felt wrong—a premonition perhaps, or just exhaustion from the constant tension.

"Better safe than sorry," I whispered, entering the complex password that would lock the files behind multiple layers of security.

The tablet pinged softly as it encrypted the data. This research was more than just work to me—it was my legacy, the one thing I'd created that Nixon couldn't diminish or dismiss.

---

"Keep up, Sloan!" Nixon's voice echoed through the forest as we ran in wolf form during the pack run.

I struggled to maintain pace with the warriors, my smaller wolf form not built for speed like theirs. Lana raced ahead, her copper-colored fur gleaming in the dappled sunlight, occasionally casting smug glances back at me.

"Perhaps our healer needs a break," she called out, slowing to let me catch up. "Or maybe she needs to prove her stamina... in other ways."

The innuendo was clear, and several male wolves let out low growls of appreciation.

"That's enough," Nixon said, but his tone lacked conviction.

We shifted back to human form at the edge of the clearing, and I pulled on the light dress I'd tied to my ankle before the run.

"Sloan," Nixon's voice suddenly hardened. "Lana has been sharing some interesting insights about rogue poisons. She needs access to your research."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"Your tablet," he demanded, extending his hand. "Now."

"No." I clutched the tablet to my chest. "This research is sensitive. It could save lives if used properly, but it could also be dangerous in the wrong hands."

Nixon's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you refusing an Alpha command?"

"Lana doesn't understand the complexity of these formulas," I pleaded. "One mistake could—"

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist so tightly I cried out. With a sharp twist, he wrenched the tablet from my grasp.

"Nixon, please!" I begged as he turned and handed my life's work to Lana.

She smiled, her fingers caressing the screen like a predator savoring its prey. "Let's see what our little healer has been hiding."

I watched in horror as she pressed the power button, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent.