Claimed by the Hunt

Lunara – The Night Everything Went to Shit

The night I was supposed to inherit the underworld smelled like blood, moonlight, and overpriced champagne.

The Varelli estate was glittering. There was music, marble, and diamonds sharp enough to blind someone. Everyone who mattered in Cindralis was that there. Wolves in suits, witches dripping crystals, men who thought they owned cities just because they bled on the right streets. They were all here for me.

I was freshly eighteen. Dressed in a red silk dress that was cut like sin, wearing my mother’s rubies, and walking like I owned every bastard in that ballroom. I was the Heiress to the Varelli Syndicate. Future queen of Lunara’s underworld. My smile was sharp, and my heels sharper.

I laughed when they bowed, winked when they leered, and pretended I didn’t notice the way the wolves bristled when I walked past. I wasn’t a wolf. Not a witch. Not anything except human....technically. And still, they looked at me like I was dangerous.

They weren’t wrong.

The champagne was cold, the music was perfect, and my parents were practically glowing with pride slash menace at the head table. This was supposed to be my night. My coronation. My fuck you to anyone who thought a girl couldn’t sit on a throne built out of blood.

And then the air shifted.

One second the room was humming with sins and laughter, the next it was static and sharp, like the second before a lightning strike. The pianist’s hands stuttered. The wolves’ ears twitched. My mother’s gaze cut across the ballroom, her eyes narrowed.

The first scream tore the music in half.

Then the doors blew inward and the wolfsbane hit like a hammer.

Black clad figures spilled into the room. They were fast, precise, and fucking merciless. Guns barked, glass shattered, and blood sprayed. Wolves shifted and then dropped, choking on the wolfsbane. Witches raised shields that shattered under the rounds of grenades.

I didn’t think. I reached for the blade strapped to my thigh. Too slow.

A steel arm hooked around my throat, and yanked me clear out of my heels. The last thing I saw was my father vaulting the table, a gun in each hand, his roar drowning out the chaos.

Then the world slammed into black.

---------------------------------------------------

I woke up choking on dirt.

Cold earth scraped against my cheek, pine needles stabbed into my skin, and my lungs burned like I’d swallowed actual fire. My head was pounding so loud I almost didn’t notice the silence pressing in.

And then I did. It was far too quiet. Too wrong, almost like something out there was holding its breath, waiting. I pushed myself upright on shaking arms. The forest swayed around me, the dark pines leaning in, shadows stretching like claws. My stomach twisted as the world tilted sideways.

Nothing was familiar. Not the woods. Not the shredded gown I was wearing. Not even… me. I reached for a name, a memory, a single scrap of who the hell I was....Blank.

My chest squeezed. No name. No family. No anchor. Just an empty vault and a pounding heartbeat that screamed one thing. Run.

Something cold bit into my ankle. I looked down. A steel band was locked around it, with a tiny red light blinking in time with my pulse. A fucking tracker.

The sight of it jolted something primal in me. Not a memory, an instinct. Rage. Defiance. Whoever put this on me thought they owned me. Thought they’d turned me into property or prey.

A laugh tore out of me, cracked and hoarse but sharp enough to cut the silence.

At my side, a backpack sat half open, like someone had dropped me here with party favors. I unzipped it fast, cataloguing before my brain even caught up.

There was one bottle of water, two protein bars, a coil of rope, and a combat knife. The knife fit my palm too perfectly. My muscle memory purred. My fingers spun it once, clean and practiced. Whoever I was before this....I definitely wasn't harmless.

An envelope sat at the bottom. Thick and elegant. Waiting for me to open it.

I tore it open.

Welcome to The Hunt.

The words were black and neat, like someone had taken their time with malice.

The rules are simple:

Survive until the Blood Moon.

Four alphas are already tracking you. Each from different packs.

If one catches you, you are theirs. Whoever claims you by the end will rule the packs for the next 100 years.

If none catch you, you go free.

If you die… you are nothing.

You have been given enough supplies to last three days. After that, you'll need to fight, steal or starve.

Run fast little Queen, The Hunt has begun.

The paper trembled in my grip, but my blood didn’t run cold. It ran hot. Because something deep inside me hissed with rage. Whoever I used to be, I knew one thing now....I wasn’t prey.

A howl split the trees. It was low, hungry, and way too close. The sound snapped through me, and my lips curved into a smile I didn’t recognize but..... it felt right. I slung the pack over my shoulder, the knife gleaming in my hand.

“Game on,” I muttered to the shadows.

I took a deep fucking breath, scouted my surroundings, and took off running.

Straight into the hunt.