Lisette

The Dark Moon werewolf pack was not born from tradition or prophecy. It rose in the shadowed spaces between packs, in the places where the Moon Goddess’s gifts were deemed inconvenient, ugly, or wrong. Dark Moon became a sanctuary for the broken, the altered, the ones other packs whispered about and out. Within its borders, difference was not merely tolerated—it was protected with tooth and claw. Lisette was never meant to survive Red Valley . She had been born beneath a full moon, tiny and perfect, her howl sharp and eager. For a few short years, she was loved. Then sickness came, silent and cruel, curling its fingers around her spine and refusing to let go. In her human form, she woke one morning unable to feel her legs. In her wolf form, she could no longer run—only drag herself forward through the dirt with her front paws, her hind legs useless, her howls turning from joy to pain. Red Valley watched her struggle. And then Red Valley looked away. Pity curdled into shame. Affection turned into avoidance. A pack that once praised unity began to see her as a flaw in the bloodline, an omen, a burden that could not keep up with the hunt or the fight. Jasmine found her at ten years old—thin, filthy, stubbornly alive. Jasmine did not see weakness. She saw a child who had survived every reason she shouldn’t have. Jasmine carried Lisette out of Red Valley without asking permission, without looking back. From that moment on, Lisette belonged to Dark Moon. To Lisette, Jasmine became more than an Alpha. She was a mother, a mentor, the living proof that strength did not require conformity. Under Jasmine’s guidance, Lisette learned adaptation. She learned strategy. Lisette may be bound to a wheelchair in her human form—but her wolf runs again. Steel and leather replace what fate stole. A custom-built frame gleams beneath moonlight as her wolf charges through the forest, wheels biting into earth, wind tearing through her fur. Under the Dark Moon, Lisette is free.