December's Moon

2| LUCA

| LUCA |

The wrought iron gates to the Cypress Pass Academy loomed ahead like prison bars rising from the early evening mist. Top and center, the intricate design of the letter "C" glistened like a crescent moon. Luca rested his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, tapping it in time with the bumps in the road.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Quit doing that," his father scolded, not even taking his eyes off the road to look at his son.

Luca straightened in his seat. "Sorry," he muttered under his breath.

They crossed beneath the black arch of the gate, and Luca's chest tightened. The pine trees in the surrounding forest drew in around the green of the small campus, enclosing it and cutting it off from the outside world. Ahead, the red brick building where classes were held towered into the twilight sky. The gym was just visible off to the right behind it—a place Luca had spent countless hours practicing.

So it began—another four months of classes and brutal training. At least this would be the last semester before the tournament. After that, Luca would finally not have to worry about this bullshit anymore. His father would get off his back about constantly studying and practicing, and Luca would be recognized with the position of next Alpha.

The possibility that he might not win the competition was something he didn't dare consider. Losing was not an option. If the shame didn't kill him, his father, Avi Wakelin, would take care of the job. He'd make it look like an accident, too. He wouldn't even get in trouble.

Luca's father drove them down the twists and turns of Academy Drive. They snaked around the main building to the back where the dorms were located. Avi pulled into the unloading spot in front of the boys' dorm, the engine on the black, classic Jaguar 420 G sputtering as it came to a stop.

Miraculously, they'd made the entire hour drive without the antique rattling itself to bits or Luca getting lectured about training and keeping his grades up and paying attention in class and brushing his teeth after every meal.

Luca unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the handle to the door.

"Last semester, are you ready?" his father asked.

Luca's hand iced as he gripped the handle. "I've been ready since the day I was born, father. I've been training for years. This is my destiny, and there is no one more fit or deserving—"

"Cut the bullshit, Luca." His father flipped off the engine, and the car went silent.

"I'm sorry, your Highness," Luca said under his breath.

"Ditch the attitude, too." His father's face drew into a tense frown, the small wrinkles around his dark eyes even more pronounced than usual. "This tournament is serious. You know better than anyone that December and Aurora have been practicing and training just as hard as you have for it. If you don't stay focused and keep up with your studying and training . . . If you don't win, so help us."

Luca rolled his eyes. "December is blind. I could kick his ass with one hand tied behind my back. And Aurora is . . . she's—"

"A woman, yes," his father cut in. "A point I contested for months fruitlessly." He paused, rubbing his neatly trimmed salt-and-peppered beard. After wiping his hand over his mouth, he continued to speak. "She's smart, though. Don't underestimate her, son. And December's wolf form is stronger than yours. You know that."