Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance-Chapter 33: Another Attempt

The next morning, a knock came at dawn.

It was a soldier in Genrik’s colors, standing straight-backed and silent, his face as unreadable as stone. He didn’t speak. He just handed Lucas a folded note.

Lucas read it and arched a brow. Then handed it to me.

Lord Genrik requests your company on the grounds. The hunt begins at second light.

I stared at the words, unease tightening its grip on my spine.

"A hunt?" I muttered. "Now? And why could the guard just say it?"

Lucas’s jaw scoffed. "I don’t know what his intentions are but we’re about to find out soon."

We dressed quickly and left the quarters. The sky outside was cloudy, tinged pink with the rising sun. We followed the soldier past the estate gardens and out to the forest edge, the trees bowed low and the scent of dew clung to the leaves.

The hunting grounds were alive with quiet menace.

Genrik waited there, clad in dark leather and wolf-fur bracers, bow slung over his shoulder. A half-dozen guards flanked him, all bearing longbows and silver-tipped arrows.

Three young werewolves stood kneeling near the trees—no older than twenty, their clothes torn, skin bruised. One of them looked up, and I saw it in his eyes.

All three of them.

"Our guests," Genrik said, his voice warm.

"You’re just in time."

I stepped forward, trying to keep my tone neutral. "What’s this?"

"A cleansing," he replied smoothly. "Three of my own outer guards turned on us weeks ago. Helped smugglers pass through my border. Disloyalty cannot go unpunished."

Lucas’s brow twitched. "You’re hunting them?"

Genrik nodded. "Of course. But I’m not without mercy. They get a head start. One minute. After that..." He unslung the bow and plucked an arrow from his quiver. "I make sure they understand their choices have consequences."

The kneeling wolves flinched as the guards pulled them to their feet.

"This is madness," I said sharply. "You’re killing your own people."

"They stopped being mine when they betrayed me."

I looked into Genrik’s eyes and saw nothing but cold calculation.

This wasn’t justice.

This was a theater.

For us.

The three boys bolted into the woods the moment a bell was rung. I watched their feet disappear through the brush, fast and unsteady.

Genrik waited. One heartbeat. Two.

Then he raised his bow.

I expected him to miss.

He didn’t.

The first arrow soared in a perfect arc and struck the trailing wolf in the thigh. The boy dropped, screaming.

No one moved to help him.

Genrik didn’t hesitate. He loosed a second arrow. It struck a tree inches from the next boy’s head.

A warning shot.

"Run faster!" Genrik called out. "You still have a chance!"

Lucas stepped forward. "This isn’t a hunt. It’s humiliating. You can just execute them rather than give them false hope of living only to shoot them like this. You’re treating them even less than pigs."

Genrik smiled, drawing another arrow. "It’s simply a lesson. For them. In fact it’s for anyone who thinks of crossing me. Or doing what they’re not supposed to do."

The second boy disappeared from view. The third—limping, dragging his injured leg—was quickly lost to the trees.

"Enough," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

"Of course." Genrik lowered the bow. "The message has been delivered."

He turned away from us like nothing had happened. "Enjoy the grounds. It seems you’re a little tense. A little fresh air will do you both good." freewebnσvel.cøm

Then he was gone, his guards trailing behind him like wolves after the alpha.

I stood there, fists clenched.

Lucas was still as stone beside me. Then he turned.

"Let’s go," he muttered. "We’ve seen enough."

Back in the quarters, I paced restlessly, unable to shake the image of the arrow piercing the boy’s thigh.

"He’s sending us a message," I snapped. "Next time, it’ll be us. That’s clearly what he’s trying to say. That bastard!"

Lucas leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "He knows why we’re here. Or he’s guessed. And he’s making it clear: if we act out of line, we’ll end up like those wolves."

"We need to act even more discreetly," I said. "We can’t afford another night like the last."

Lucas’s gaze met mine. "We go back to the pit. We figure out how to get the Kurd out without killing the beast."

I hesitated. "And if we can’t?"

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

We both knew what the King would do if we failed.

That night, under the cloak of moonlight, we slipped out again.

Back to the forest and back to the pit.

The wind whispered between the trees as we followed the same path as before. But this time, every branch seemed sharper. Every shadow was deeper.

The clearing loomed ahead, silent as before—but colder now.

The beast wasn’t visible yet

But we felt it.

The ground trembled faintly beneath our boots.

Lucas moved first, circling the pit slowly. I followed, scanning the surroundings.

"Same tracks," he muttered. "Hasn’t left. Still here."

I knelt again, brushing my fingers over the ash-ringed earth.

Then I heard it.

A low snort.

A huff of breath.

It was watching us.

From below.

Lucas drew out a pouch of wolfsbane oil and flicked it at the edge of the pit. The air hissed where it landed.

The beast snarled.

"We don’t want to hurt you," I called down. "But we need the Kurd. It doesn’t belong to you."

A long pause.

Then the sound of claws against stone.

Rising.

I saw it again—emerging from the pit, dragging its massive form into the clearing. Glowing eyes locked on mine. Muzzle twitching.

I knew it understood me.

But it didn’t care.

Lucas moved quickly, dropping smoke powder at its feet. The moment it reeled, coughing and thrashing, I darted forward with the chain-net we’d prepared.

One loop—two.

I caught its legs. Lucas struck at its face, trying to blind it with a quick slash to the eyes.

The beast screamed—a horrible, gurgled noise—and threw itself backward. The chains snapped.

It tore into the trees, howling.

But behind it... something dropped.

A glimmer.

Small.

The Kurd?

I reached for it—

Then we heard it.

Drums.

Voices.

Coming from the direction of the estate.

"We have to go!" Lucas shouted.

I grabbed the glimmering object—no, just a shard of bone, still warm from the beast’s body. Not the Kurd.

I clenched my jaw.

Failure.

We shifted then—finally letting the wolf rise.

Fur burst across my skin, muscles stretching. My claws hit the ground, and Lucas was already bounding ahead, a streak of silver beneath the trees.

We ran.

Fast and silent.

Through the woods, through the garden wall, slipping back into the estate like smoke.

The moment we returned to our quarters, we dropped to the floor, panting.

Bloodied. Tired.

Empty-handed.

Again.

The fragment was still inside that beast.

And Genrik?

He was tightening his noose.

We had to find a way to separate the Kurd without killing it.

Because if we failed again...

We wouldn’t be leaving this estate alive.