The Ruined Luna

One

'You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.' - Albert Einstein

Becoming a monster is an artform that's woven by blood and pain. Having your humanity stripped from your body like skin carved away from muscle was to have its loss carved on your soul. And to have the wolf flood your veins and change you from the smallest part of your being and out was to scream the primal symphony of suffering beyond imagining. That was the reality of becoming a made werewolf. My reality, as of four months ago.

A werewolf. The notion was ludicrous, unfathomable, except that I could feel her prowling beneath the surface. A frightening monster ready to shred the world asunder beneath the wide wicked sharp claws of her paws. There was no real separation between the wolf and I. She was me, and I am her. Created by a fucked-up set of circumstances with a probability so miniscule it was written off as legend.

I smiled bitterly at the rain that lashed against the car's windows, something that was just as constant as the dawn in the pacific northwest. That's me, the living legend that almost everyone I'd met since the change wished would fade away back into myth. Not like every second of the day I wished I could too.

I was supposed to have died. A person wasn't meant to survive everything I had to go through to become the wolf. It went against nature. An abomination. The things I'd been called and labeled as could have filled a book. It didn't hurt anymore, to hear those things. Every single one of them was true. But they made me angry. Made the rage that I welcomed like a second skin want to leak from my pores until it swallowed the world.

"You're losing control again."

The urge to roll my eyes was so overwhelming I couldn't have stopped them even if I'd wanted to. Which was absolutely impossible when Beta Crowley was around. My appointed jailer. Since something like me 'was a threat to everyone and couldn't be allowed to go around unsupervised.'

"It's fine." Was all I replied, determined to keep a tight leash on myself. I hated to let any of them see me react even in the smallest way. My time in the basement had razed most of that annoying habit from me thankfully.

"I can sense it." He snapped, still guiding the car smoothly down the winding wet roads.

And wasn't that the bitch of it all? Even if my expression was carved from freaking stone, werewolves could smell emotions, sense if they were strong enough to permeate the skin. Crowley had a little something extra, sort of like being a werewolf lie detector. If you felt it, even a little, he'd know. Which left me floundering to put these strong sudden rushes of emotion into the boxes of my mind before they could give me away. I'd gotten pretty damn good at it, but it wasn't perfect yet.

Rather than respond, I returned my attention to the mountainous landscape. I could barely see it through the heavy grey curtain and thick suffocating cloud cover. In a way it reflected how the inside of my head feels these days. Like I was lost in a freezing fog that had leached every memory I'd ever had of the sun.

Idly, I wished I could change it. The weather outside, being in this stupid car. But what could I say to him, after all, that would make a difference? I was still being sold to some Alpha from a pack no one knew diddly about and wouldn't tell me even if they had. For some price that the Canyon Tooth pack decided was worth the trouble of keeping me under control and hauled across state lines. Bastards.

Crowley, however, was determined that another lecture was in order for whatever perceived wrong I'd committed in the last three minutes.

"It's been four months, Jolene. Basic control shouldn't be so far out of your abilities. Your new pack will be expecting your absolute obedience."

'They can kiss my ass too. And my name is Jo, you freaking NPC.'

I could hear his teeth grinding together over the pounding of the rain at my lack of response.

"You're lucky we were able to find a pack willing to take you in despite your...unique set of circumstances."

Didn't it make you just want to puke? He acted like they'd done me a favor when they'd pulled me from that hell only to slap me in iron chains to use as they saw fit. An unwilling but unable to protest tool.

"Selling me like a human trafficker for the benefit of your pack could have nothing to do with that." I bit out, my tone heavy and swollen with sarcasm.

"You aren't human," Crowley sneered. "Better than killing you, right? At least this way you live and you're useful."

I scoffed and pushed the heavy curtain of my hair off my shoulder so I could see him better out of the corner of my eye. "Don't act like you wouldn't have preferred that."

He was a lean man, but not in an attractive way. He was boney where there should be muscle, giving him a stretched-out appearance that reminded me of a character from a horror film. Spindly, balding, with dingy brown hair and a angular chin that jutted almost unnaturally from his face.

"Wasn't my call." He growled, fingers tightening on the steering wheel so hard the material groaned under the strain like it would snap apart at any moment. Of the few members of the Canyon Tooth pack I'd met, Crowley hated me the most. He was honest in his hatred of me, though. I could almost respect him for that if nothing else. He despised every part of my unnatural being and had made it clear from day one.

And because I'm an idiot who couldn't help poking the bear, or wolf in this case, I leaned just a little closer to him and grinned wide, flashing my teeth.

"Shame you'll never get the chance now, huh? Regulated to nothing more than a glorified delivery boy-"

Crowley's fist shot out faster than I could react, catching me on the left cheek bone in a vicious punch that whipped my head to the side with a sharp snap while bone crunched beneath his knuckles. It blazed hot with pain while something warm and wet rolled down my face and beneath the collar of my hoodie. The fucker had split the skin. He was breathing hard, flexing his hand open and closed, eyes still trained on the road.

"Abomination." He seethed.

I laughed without humor. "You hit like a bitch." Not the most original thing to say, but the ringing in my head commanded more of my attention than coming up with snappy comebacks. For a scarecrow of a man, he hit freaking hard.

Retribution flashed in his eyes, an unattractive muddy brown color, just as a town came into view, its lights a welcome sign after so much gray.

"Laugh while you can. We're almost at your new home."

I ignored him. Because if I had my way, I'd be long gone by dawn.

As soon as I got my bearings, I'd make a plan. Going home wasn't an option, not after what I'd become. My throat threatened to close at the very thought, so I pushed it away and focused on the steps that would lead to my freedom. Figure out where I was, gather what I'd need, find a hole to escape through, then run like hell. And once I was free, I didn't care if I never had to stop running. I'd rather run the rest of my life than spend any more time under lock and key for what I'd had no choice in.

I'd travel the country and learn how to actually live this immortal life. Immortal as long as I wasn't killed anyway. Isn't that just neat? I got to exist like this until I got taken out by someone with an axe to grind. Lucky for me, just being alive was enough to stir a pack into a frenzy. Either way, escape or death, my freedom was guaranteed. 

***Thank you so much for reading The Ruined Luna! Please remember to like, comment, and add to your library so you never miss a moment! I can also be found on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram! -L. Johnson-***