Chapter 78 - Blood Moon Rising

Javid.

As I waited for Marco and his soldiers to arrive, memories flashed through my mind of our time together. Other than Paul, he was the best option to teach me how to be a wolf.

I remembered the long days and even longer nights spent training with Marco. It was grueling, both physically and mentally. But Marco never let up, always pushing me to be better, stronger, faster.

"Again!" Marco barked, his voice cutting through the crisp morning air. "You call that a lunge? My grandmother could do better than that, and she's been dead for twenty years!"

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the burning in my muscles as I crouched down and sprang forward again, aiming for the straw-filled dummy Marco had set up. My hands raked across its chest, sending bits of straw flying.

"Better," Marco grunted. "But still sloppy. Your balance is off."

I blew out a frustrated breath, shaking my head. "You know I won't get my wolf until I'm eighteen, right? I'm trying, okay? This whole jumping like I have four legs instead of two isn't exactly natural for me yet."

Marco whipped back his shoulder-length black hair with a large hand. His blue eyes softened slightly and the strong features in his face relaxed from their semi-permanent scowl. "I know, kid. Believe me, I've been there. It takes time and practice." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "But you'll get there. I have faith in you."

Something about his gruff encouragement made me stand a little taller. I nodded, squaring my shoulders. "Okay. Let's go again."

And so it went, day after day, week after week. Marco was a relentless taskmaster, but I could feel myself improving bit by bit. My movements became more fluid, my senses sharper. I started to feel a connection with the wolf who would one day manifest inside me.

One particularly brutal afternoon, as I lay panting on the ground after a vicious sparring session, Marco crouched down next to me. "You're doing good, Javid. Real good. I'm proud of you."

I blinked up at him in surprise. Praise from Marco was about as rare as a vegetarian werewolf. "Yeah?"

He nodded. His dark eyes gleamed with sincerity. "Yeah. You got heart, kid. And guts. That's more than I can say for most of the pups I've trained."

I felt a flush of pride at his words. Coming from Marco, that meant a lot.

"Thanks," I said, pushing myself up to a sitting position with a wince. Everything hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. The kind that meant I was getting stronger.

Marco stood, offering me a hand. I grasped it and he hauled me to my feet. "Come on, enough lying around. We got work to do."

I groaned but fell into step beside him as we headed back to the makeshift training grounds. "You ever gonna give me a break, old man?" At ten, Marco was an ancient 18 to me. Still, he was already an Alpha of his MC pack so that elevated him to near Moon Goddess status in my eyes.

Marco barked out a laugh. "Old man? I'll show you old, pup. I can kick your furry butt six ways to Sunday."

"Bring it on," I taunted with a smirk. "I've learned a few tricks of my own without your help."

And just like that, we were back at it, trading quips and insults in equal measure as the sun tracked its way across the sky.

But as much as Marco pushed me, as hard as he was on me, I knew it all came from a place of caring. He wanted me to be prepared, to be able to hold my own against those in Belda's coven… or wherever I ended up.

Because out there in the real world, being a werewolf wasn't all super strength and pack bonds and running through the forest. There was danger lurking around every corner, enemies who would rip your throat out as soon as look at you.

Marco understood that better than anyone. And he was determined to make sure I understood it too.

So I kept training, kept pushing myself, even when every muscle screamed in protest and my lungs felt like they might burst. Because I knew Marco was right.

This was my life now. And if I wanted to survive it, I needed to be ready for anything.

Midnight had come and gone before Marco and his soldiers arrived at the former clubhouse, which was already being rebuilt by those in the pack who were able. The familiar scent of oil and metal filled my nostrils as they rode up, bringing back memories of past encounters. When I found him, Marco stood near a stack of wood, arms crossed and a wide grin plastered on his normally stern face.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Marco called out, his voice deep and raspy. He took a few steps forward, clapping me on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

"Isn't that my line?" I replied, smirking as I rubbed the spot where his hand had landed. A warmth spread through me, grateful for the easy camaraderie we still shared.

We exchanged playful jabs, recalling our grueling training sessions. Marco mimicked my stumbles from our early days, while I reminded him of that time, I'd outmaneuvered him when I was fifteen. Laughter bounced off the walls, mingling with the distant hum of other allies who stood talking in groups.

As our laughter died down, Marco's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Javid, we need to talk about something important." He paused, gauging my reaction before continuing. "The Blood Moon MC."

My stomach tightened at the mention of the notorious werewolf gang. I had since found out through an earlier mind-link with Marco that the two werewolves who had attacked me, Felix and Joe, were members of that MC. My mind flashed back to the brutal attack I barely survived and I shuddered involuntarily.

Marco's eyes bore into mine as he spoke. "Felix and Joe were lieutenants of the Blood Moon MC," he explained. "But they weren't well-liked within their ranks."

I clenched my fists, anger simmering. I could still feel the sting of their claws and hear their mocking laughter echoing in my ears.

Marco took a deep breath and continued. "I've managed to secure an alliance with their former Alpha. We have 100 Blood Moon wolves ready to fight against their former brothers."

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. My mind raced, questioning the reliability of this alliance. Were these wolves truly loyal? Or were they plants sent to sabotage us from within?

I must have hesitated too long because Marco leaned closer, searching my face. "I know what you're thinking," he said softly. "But I've brought someone who might convince you."

From behind a stack of wood emerged a striking she-wolf with large brown eyes. She looked... innocent, naive—not like the usual she-wolves who hung around Marco's pack—those who belted out raucous laughter and pranced around in skimpy outfits.

"This is Sephora," Marco introduced her with a nod. "The Alpha's third daughter."

Sephora stepped forward, her gaze skimming over me before dropping to her shoes. Her scent was fresh like daisies after a spring rain.

"Hello," she said softly, her soft voice carrying an entrancing melody over the ambient noise.

I studied her carefully, looking for guile. I found none. Not even a hint. There was something genuine about her demeanor that made me want to trust her despite my reservations.

Marco placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder again. "Sephora will be our liaison with her father's wolves," he explained. "She's here to ensure their loyalty."

Sephora lifted her head slightly, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before looking away again. Her cheeks flushed pink under my scrutiny.

"I know it's hard to trust us," she began hesitantly, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "But we want to help bring down those two traitors as much as you do."

I could practically taste her sincerity. It resonated in her words and reflected in her eyes.

I took a deep breath, feeling some of my tension ease away. Maybe this alliance could work after all.

"Alright," I said finally, nodding at both Marco and Sephora. "Let's see what your wolves can do."