Chapter 10: Blood on the Doorstep

I stared at the image on my phone like it might disappear if I blinked hard enough.

It didn’t.

The blood was real.

The symbol was real.

And it was on my door.

Aidan leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine as he looked over my screen. I didn’t move. For once, I was too frozen to react.

His jaw clenched. “That wasn’t there when I got here.”

“No,” I said, my voice flat. “It wasn’t.”

Neither of us moved for a second.

Then I stood and headed for the door.

“Roxanne, wait—”

But I was already unlocking the deadbolt.

The hallway was silent. Still.

Too still.

I stepped into the corridor, blade drawn, heart thudding so loud it felt like thunder in my ears. My apartment door was smeared with it. A perfect, deliberate version of the symbol, drawn in deep crimson that hadn’t fully dried.

Aidan stepped up beside me. “They know where you live.”

“No shit,” I muttered, scanning the area. No movement. No sounds. Whoever had done this was long gone.

Aidan reached out and dragged two fingers along the mark, inspecting the blood. “Still warm.”

“So they were here minutes ago.”

“Or less.”

I turned slowly, my eyes scanning every corner of the hallway. My instincts screamed that we were being watched, but nothing stirred. Nothing moved. No shadows shifted.

Still, I felt it.

Something was out there.

“Whoever sent this,” I said, stepping back inside, “wanted to shake me.”

“Did it work?” Aidan asked quietly.

I paused, then slammed the door shut. “Not even close.”

\---

The adrenaline wore off fast.

What replaced it was colder. Heavier.

I paced the room, my mind spinning. The Bloodfangs. A death mark. A text from an unknown number. Blood on my door.

I’d faced monsters for years—but this felt different.

More personal.

Aidan sat at the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, watching me. “You said you’d seen the mark before.”

I nodded. “Years ago. During a hunt. One of them had a pendant with that symbol on it. When I tried to question him, he let himself burn instead of talking. That mark? It’s not just a threat. It’s a creed. A promise.”

“Then this wasn’t random,” Aidan said. “They’re sending it to you.”

I stopped pacing. “Yeah. But why now? Why me?”

He stood and walked toward me, voice low. “You’re more involved than you realize, Roxanne. This isn't just about the pack. It’s about you.”

I shook my head, frustrated. “No. I stay out of their world. I hunt them, that’s it. I don’t get tangled in politics, in bloodlines, in ancient vendettas.”

“You’re tangled now,” he said quietly.

My gaze snapped to his. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Aidan hesitated. Just for a second.

But I saw it.

The flicker of something.

Guilt.

“Spit it out.”

He exhaled slowly. “That pendant you saw years ago—the werewolf who wore it... it wasn’t just some random rogue. He was connected to the Bloodfangs’ inner circle. One of the originals.”

My stomach dropped. “How the hell would you know that?”

“Because my father hunted them too,” Aidan said. “Before he became Alpha. Before he had me. There was a war—one the rest of the world pretended never happened. But the packs remember. And so do the Bloodfangs.”

I stared at him. “So they’re resurfacing… because of you?”

“Because of us,” he said. “Because I brought you into their sights. You’re tied to this now, whether you like it or not.”

I turned away, pulse pounding. “Great. I pretend to be your Luna for two minutes and suddenly I’m marked for death. What a bargain.”

“You said you wanted revenge,” he said softly. “That you were doing this for your own reasons. Looks like someone else has their own.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Everything felt like it was unraveling.

And worst of all... something about that symbol made my skin crawl in a way I hadn’t felt since that night.

The night they took everything from me.

\---

By morning, the symbol was gone.

I hadn’t erased it. Neither had Aidan.

But someone had.

I opened the door and found nothing—just a clean, bloodless surface like it had never been there.

Aidan stood behind me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “Whoever did this, they’re still watching.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, scanning the hallway. “And they’re not done.”

\---

I met with Jackson later that afternoon in a safehouse just outside the French Quarter.

It was quiet. Low lights. Reinforced doors. The kind of place you’d never notice unless you were meant to find it.

He was already waiting, a folder spread open in front of him.

“Any new signs?” he asked without looking up.

I tossed my phone on the table. “Two messages. One image. One real-life blood symbol.”

Jackson finally looked up. His eyes flicked to Aidan, who stood by the door like a silent shadow.

“You brought him?”

“He’s involved now,” I said flatly. “Whether we like it or not.”

Aidan said nothing. Just stared Jackson down with that unreadable look of his.

Jackson clicked his tongue and turned back to me. “The Bloodfangs don’t just threaten people, Roxanne. They manipulate. They lure. They kill from the inside. You need to be careful who you trust.”

“Yeah,” I said, eyes narrowing. “I’ve heard that before.”

He pushed the folder toward me. Inside were photos—crime scenes, pack charts, names I didn’t recognize.

“What is this?”

Jackson pointed at a name circled in red ink.

“Vaughn.”

My breath caught.

“He’s the one who created the mark. He branded traitors. Sent assassins after anyone who stood in the way of the Bloodfangs. And according to our last intel...”

He flipped to the next page.

A photograph.

It was grainy, but clear enough to make out the man’s face.

He had a scar down his left eye and a cold smile that sent chills through my bones.

“…he’s in New Orleans.”

\---

That night, I sat in silence on the rooftop of my building, legs dangling over the edge.

The city pulsed below, lights flickering like restless stars.

Aidan sat beside me, not saying a word.

For once, I was grateful.

Finally, I broke the silence. “You said the Bloodfangs don't just kill. They corrupt. What does that mean?”

He exhaled. “They turn packs from the inside. Recruit the angry. The broken. The ones who’ve lost faith in the old ways. They offer power—real power. The kind that comes with blood. And once someone accepts it… there’s no going back.”

I turned my head. “You’ve seen it?”

He nodded once. “My uncle. Years ago. Took the mark. Tried to kill my father. Almost succeeded.”

I looked away. “Do you think Vaughn’s trying to do the same thing now?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “And if he is... he won’t stop until the city’s his.”

I didn’t answer. My gaze dropped to the street below.

Then I heard it.

A faint rustling.

My head jerked up.

On the building across from us, a figure stood. Motionless. Watching.

The second our eyes met, they turned and vanished.

I was on my feet in seconds.

Aidan was already beside me.

We raced down the fire escape and into the alley, cutting through back streets, searching every shadow.

Nothing.

Gone.

But where they’d stood…

…another mark was left behind.

This time, carved into the brick of the building across from mine.

But it wasn’t the same symbol.

It was something new.

A wolf skull. Crowned in thorns.

And beneath it, in deep red letters:

“THE LUNA WILL BLEED FIRST.”