Moonbound Alpha: King of the Forsaken

Silvercrest Academy – The Headmaster's Office

Ronan's fingers twitched. His body felt wrong, like a machine with missing parts—functional, but incomplete.

His wolf was gone. His strength, stripped.

And yet…

He was alive.

Selene Nightshade's words haunted him:

"You're no longer just a werewolf, Ronan. You're something else."

Ronan clenched his fists, his instincts coiling like a spring. "If you know what's happening to me, then tell me."

Selene studied him with eyes that saw too much. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

She smirked. "Then let's see if you're still as strong as you think you are."

Before Ronan could react, she moved.

One moment, she was standing across the room. The next—

A dagger flashed toward his throat.

Instinct took over.

Ronan sidestepped, muscles snapping into action before his mind caught up. Too fast.

Selene's blade sliced through the air where his neck had been a second ago.

She adjusted her grip, coming at him again. A flurry of sharp, practiced movements—this wasn't a reckless attack. She was testing him.

He lifted his arm to block—

The dagger should have cut through skin.

But it didn't.

Selene's eyes flickered with recognition.

"Interesting," she murmured.

Ronan's pulse pounded. What the hell was that?

His instincts snapped, raw and electric. He countered without thinking, catching her wrist mid-strike.

And then—

CRACK.

In a blur, Selene was slammed against the stone wall.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then she smiled. "You're faster than before."

Ronan scowled, stepping back. "What the hell was that?"

"A test," she said, rolling her shoulder.

"Testing what?"

Selene's smirk didn't waver. "How much of you is still human."

Ronan's stomach tightened.

He didn't have time to ask what she meant—because the first combat trials were about to begin.

The blood-stained stone floor beneath Ronan's boots felt familiar.

The combat arena was where the academy's hierarchy was decided.

Supernatural students didn't just study here. They fought.

Packs ruled like mafia families—dominance was earned through battle. The weak? They were prey.

And right now? Ronan was seen as the weakest.

Then Silas Vaughn stepped forward.

"Looks like the Forsaken One decided to show up," Silas sneered, arms crossed. His two lackeys, Drake and Mason, flanked him like loyal dogs.

Ronan barely looked at them.

"I don't remember asking for your attention," he said coolly.

Silas's smirk sharpened. "I don't remember giving you a choice."

A low murmur spread through the students.

"Let's make this simple," Silas continued. "You bow now, swear loyalty to Bloodfang Pack, and maybe—just maybe—I let you keep your dignity."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "And if I refuse?"

Silas's eyes darkened.

"Then we make an example out of you," he said, voice laced with menace.

The challenge was loud enough for everyone to hear.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was a declaration.

If Ronan refused, he'd be seen as weak. And in Silvercrest, weakness meant death.

Silence stretched.

Then—

Ronan stepped into the ring.

"Fine," he said. "But don't cry when you lose."

The moment the fight began, Silas lunged.

He moved like lightning, closing the distance too fast for an ordinary wolf.

Ronan's instincts screamed at him to react—

And then—

A pulse of energy erupted in his chest.

For a fraction of a second, his vision blurred.

Then his body moved on its own.

Not like a werewolf.

Not like anything he had ever felt before.

Silas's punch should have sent him flying. Instead—

Ronan twisted unnaturally fast, avoiding the blow by mere inches.

His movements felt too sharp, too precise. Like something was guiding him.

Then, without thinking—

He struck.

Not with brute strength.

Not with claws.

But with something more.

His palm slammed against Silas's chest, and—

BOOM.

A shockwave exploded outward, sending Silas hurtling across the arena.

He crashed against the far wall with a sickening impact.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The students stared.

Ronan stood frozen, staring at his own hand.

What… the hell was that?

Silas groaned, pushing himself up, eyes burning with rage and confusion. "What the f*** was that?!"

Ronan had no idea.

But he felt it.

That energy. That pulse.

It wasn't werewolf strength.

It was something older. Something powerful.

And it was awakening.

The combat trial ended in chaos.

Ronan walked away the winner, but now everyone was watching.

Whispers followed him as he left the arena.

"He didn't even shift."

"That wasn't normal."

"Did you see how fast he moved?"

Later that night, as he returned to his dorm, Selene was waiting for him.

"You're an idiot," she said flatly.

Ronan smirked. "Nice to see you too."

Selene didn't smile. "You just put a target on your back."

"Good," Ronan said.

Selene exhaled sharply. "You don't get it. No Forsaken One should be able to do what you did today. You think the Academy won't notice? That they won't notice?"

Ronan's smirk faded.

Selene leaned in. "You're using a power that doesn't belong to werewolves, Ronan."

He met her gaze. "Then what the hell does it belong to?"

Selene hesitated.

Then, in a whisper, she said:

"Something that should have stayed buried."

A long pause.

Then she stepped back. "Meet me tomorrow. Midnight. Library archives."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't figure out what you are soon…" Her voice was deadly serious.

"…someone else will."

And with that, she disappeared into the shadows.

Ronan stood there, pulse still thrumming with power.

For the first time, he wasn't just an outcast.

He was a threat.

And something told him this was only the beginning.