Chapter 2

"So that Wolfless loser's prized sword just snapped like that?"

"If he finds out, he'll probably bawl his eyes out."

"So what if he cries? A Wolfless nobody like him dosen't deserves a weapon."

The laughter grew louder.

I stood at the edge of the crowd, staring at the broken sword lying in the mud.

It was three generations' contributions and sacrifices. It was the only keepsake my grandfather left me on his deathbed, the very core of Silvermoon Territory's border defenses.

And now, it was snapped in two, tossed into the mud to make some guy laugh.

That was when Sophia finally remembered me. She turned and glanced toward the edge of the crowd.

When she spotted me standing there, she raised an eyebrow.

"Allen? Why are you standing there like a statue?" she called out.

Everyone turned to look at me. I didn't say a word and walked into the crowd slowly.

The werewolves moved aside for me, not out of respect, but because they were curious. They wanted to see how a Wolfless loser would react to being humiliated.

I walked up to the broken sword, bent down, and picked up the mud-caked half of the blade.

Sophia watched me, sounding annoyed. "It's just a busted sword. Why the long face?"

Ryan snickered. "Allen, right? Don't be stingy. What would you even do with a weapon? Luna lets you eat here. That's already generous. Why are you fussing over this?"

The crowd broke out in laughter again.

I didn't bother looking at Ryan. My eyes were fixed on Sophia.

My stare made her uneasy; she frowned. "What are you looking at? If you've got something to say, just say it."

I slipped the broken sword piece into my belt.

"Sophia," I said. I never called her by her name.

In the Silvermoon Pack, everyone called her "Luna."

Her frown deepened. "What did you call me?"

I met her gaze and spoke.

My voice wasn't loud, but the silence around the campfire made every word ring out. "Do you even know what this sword is?"

Sophia waved her hand impatiently. "It's just a busted silver sword, some old junk your family passed down. I know, you've said it a million times."

I pressed, "Then do you know what keeps the border defenses standing?"

Sophia froze. She clearly hadn't thought about it before.

To her, the border defenses were something that had always been there, as natural as the rising and setting of the sun.

"What does the border defenses have to do with your busted sword?" she shot back.

I didn't bother explaining. There was no point anymore.

I tightened my grip on the broken sword piece, looked up at Sophia, and spoke in a calm voice that even surprised me. "Fine. If you think it's useless..."

I paused and continued, "From now on, whatever happens to the Silvermoon Pack is none of my business."

The campfire crackled.

For a moment, the crowd went completely silent.

Then, laughter erupted even louder than before.

"Did you hear that? He says the pack's life or death doesn't concern him!"

"Look at him, a Wolfless loser, talking big!"

"Does he think he's the Alpha now or something?"

Sophia laughed too, but there was a flash of annoyance behind her smile.

Her voice went cold. "Allen, are you drunk or something? You, a Wolfless loser, acting like the pack's fate has anything to do with you? Who do you think you are? Without the Silvermoon Pack taking you in, you'd have been wolf food out there long ago."

Ryan threw an arm around Sophia's shoulders, shaking his head with a grin. "Sophia, don't waste your breath. He's a nobody without an inner wolf. Let him run his mouth if it makes him feel better."

Sophia snorted, leaning into Ryan. "Yeah, true."

I turned and walked away.

No one tried to stop me. No one even cared.

To the werewolves, a Wolfless loser's anger was like an ant throwing punches.

I stepped out of the campfire's glow, and the night wind slipped inside my collar.

The broken sword piece still felt warm in my palm.

No, it wasn't just lingering warmth. It was scorching hot.

I looked down at the silver fragment in my hand. It was giving off a faint glow.

Something inside me, dormant for twenty-three years, was finally stirring awake.

As I walked out of the camp, Sophia's laughter rang out behind me, and Ryan's low voice chimed in.

I didn't look back.

It had been three years. I'd watched over the Silvermoon Pack's borders for three years.

Every full moon, I channeled energy into the ritual circle with Silver Edge, keeping the defenses alive. The Nightshade Clan's vampires tried to breach the border countless times, but the defenses always held.

No one ever asked how the defenses could hold back the vampires.

No one ever wondered what I was really doing out there alone at the border every full moon.

All they cared about was that the border stayed safe, and they were happy to call the guy who kept it that way a loser.

Now, the sword was broken.

Next full moon, without Silver Edge fueling the ritual circle, the defenses would start to weaken.

After three full moons, the defenses would completely disappear. The Nightshade Clan would storm in without resistance.

I wouldn't do a thing about it.

Back at the border cabin, I set the broken sword piece down on the table.

The silver glow grew brighter, as if it were answering the turmoil rising inside me.

My great-grandfather was a Hunter. My grandfather was a Hunter. My father was also a Hunter.

Three generations of Hunters kept the Silvermoon Pack safe with this sword.