Moonlight Melody
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 2061
By day, she composes symphonies; by night, she chases shadows. But when her melodies draw the attention of a lone wolf hiding in plain sight, their worlds collide in a song neither of them can escape.
***
The train’s brakes screeched as Dynasty adjusted her earbuds, the sweet-sounding hum of a cello filling her ears. She sat stiffly, the violin case balanced between her knees. Late-night trains always carried an air of unease, but tonight, it felt sharper, heavier, as though the city itself held its breath.
"Second Street Station," the automated voice announced. The doors hissed open.
A man stepped into the car. He was tall, with sharp features softened by his disheveled hoodie and worn jeans. His boots, caked in mud, struck Dynasty as out of place. Who walks through the city like that? she thought, stealing glances as he settled a few seats away.
The train lurched forward, but Dynasty's gaze remained fixed. Something about him gnawed at her composure—a tension that prickled her skin. She turned up the music, trying to drown out her unease. But when her eyes flicked back to him, he was staring right at her.
***
Dynasty had always been good at noticing things. It's what made her a prodigy in music. At 26, she was the youngest composer hired by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, her pieces celebrated for their raw emotion and haunting beauty. But tonight, as she walked home through the empty streets, her senses felt off.
The air carried a metallic tang. Her steps echoed unnaturally, the city’s usual symphony of sounds reduced to a faint hum.
And then, she heard it—a low growl.
She froze. It wasn’t distant, nor the hollow echo of a stray dog. It was close. Too close.
A shadow darted through the corner of her vision. Dynasty’s breath hitched, her violin case slipping from her grasp. “Hello?” she called, her voice trembling.
From the darkness stepped the man from the train. His hoodie was gone, revealing a lean, muscular frame. His eyes gleamed golden under the flickering streetlights.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice deep and raspy.
Dynasty stumbled back. “What—what do you want?”
“Not me.” He tilted his head toward the shadows. “Them.”
Before she could react, a creature lunged from the alley—a wolf, its eyes glowing like embers. Dynasty screamed, but the man moved faster than she could process. He leapt, his form blurring midair, and when he landed, he wasn’t a man anymore.
He was the wolf.
***
Dynasty woke in her apartment, the morning light streaming through her curtains. Her violin case sat by the door, but her hands trembled as she touched it, the memories of the night before rushing back.
Was it real? She glanced at her arm, where faint scratches marred her skin.
A knock on her door startled her. She peered through the peephole. It was him—the man from the train.
“How do you know where I live?” she demanded after cracking the door open.
“You dropped this.” He held up her wallet. “Thought I’d return it before…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking to her arm.
“Before what?” she pressed, opening the door wider.
“Before they come back.”
***
Over the following days, Dynasty learned his name—Eli—and his truth. He wasn’t just a werewolf; he was a rogue, exiled from his pack for refusing to partake in their brutal ways.
“They hunt for sport,” he explained one night, as they sat in her cramped living room. “But when they target someone, it’s never random. They’re after you now.”
“Why me?”
Eli hesitated. “Your music. They’re drawn to it.”
Dynasty frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s not just music to them,” he said. “It’s a pull. A lure. Something they can’t resist.”
Despite her disbelief, the attacks persisted. Dynasty found herself relying on Eli more than she liked, their uneasy alliance growing into something deeper.
She noticed the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, the way his eyes lingered when he thought she wasn’t looking. But she also saw the torment in him—the self-loathing and isolation he carried like a second skin.
For Dynasty, it was different. Her life had always been about control—of notes, of rhythm, of structure. But Eli was chaos incarnate, a wild force she couldn’t predict. And yet, she felt safer with him than she ever had alone.
***
The night of her symphony’s debut arrived, and Dynasty insisted on performing despite Eli’s warnings.
“They’ll be there,” he said, pacing her apartment. “You’re giving them exactly what they want.”
“I won’t let them scare me into silence,” she shot back, her voice firm. “This is my life, Eli. My music. They don’t get to take that from me.”
Eli’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll be there.”
***
The performance was flawless, every note a crescendo of defiance and beauty. Dynasty’s bow danced across the strings, her heart pouring into every stroke.
But as the applause thundered through the hall, her triumph was short-lived. The wolves were here, their human disguises barely hiding their predatory gazes.
Eli appeared at her side, his expression grim. “We need to go. Now.”
They fled into the night, the wolves hot on their trail. Dynasty’s lungs burned as she ran, Eli leading her through a maze of alleys.
When they reached a dead end, he turned to her, his eyes glowing. “Stay behind me.”
“No.” She gripped his arm. “I’m done running.”
Eli blinked, surprised, but before he could argue, Dynasty raised her violin.
She played.
The melody was haunting, a raw, visceral cry that echoed through the city. The wolves faltered, their snarls softening into whimpers. Eli stared, his wolf form trembling as if the music itself was stripping him bare.
When the last note faded, the wolves were gone, leaving only Eli and Dynasty in the silence.
***
In the days that followed, Dynasty and Eli rebuilt their lives, bound by the music that had both cursed and saved them.
Eli stayed, no longer a rogue but a man finding his place. And Dynasty, for the first time, composed not for the world but for herself—and for the man who had taught her that even in the wildest chaos, there was harmony to be found.
Dynasty’s newfound power was a revelation, but it came with a burden she hadn’t anticipated. The music that flowed from her fingers wasn’t just an art—it was a force. She could feel it now, pulsing beneath her skin whenever she played. It was a connection to something ancient, primal, and untamed.
“What does it mean?” she asked Eli one evening, her violin resting on her lap as they sat in her dimly lit apartment.
Eli leaned against the window frame, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. “It means you’re more than you think. The music doesn’t just move people—it commands them. It’s why the pack was drawn to you. They wanted to harness that power.”
Dynasty swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “And what if I don’t want it?”
Eli turned to face her, his golden eyes piercing. “It’s not about wanting it. It’s about owning it. If you don’t, someone else will.”
***
The attacks stopped after that night, but Dynasty felt the wolves’ presence lingering like a shadow on her soul. She buried herself in her work, composing with an intensity she’d never known, pouring her fears, doubts, and hopes into every piece.
Eli became her anchor, though he struggled with his own demons. He wasn’t used to staying in one place, to being needed. But with Dynasty, he found himself wanting to stay.
“You could leave,” she told him one morning as they walked along the lakefront, the water shimmering under the rising sun.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to?”
Dynasty hesitated. The answer was obvious, but saying it felt like stepping into the unknown. “No. But I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Eli’s laugh was soft, almost bitter. “I’ve been running my whole life, Dynasty. Staying here with you… it’s the first time I’ve felt free.”
Her chest tightened at his words, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through her defenses.
***
As weeks turned into months, Dynasty began to explore her power with Eli’s help. She played in the quiet woods on the edge of the city, where her music seemed to ripple through the trees like a living thing.
One evening, as she played, a figure stepped into the clearing—a woman with silver hair and eyes like molten gold.
“Who are you?” Dynasty demanded, lowering her violin.
The woman smiled, her presence commanding yet strangely familiar. “My name is Selene. I’m… like you.”
Eli tensed, his posture shifting as if ready for a fight. “She’s not like you, Dynasty. She’s dangerous.”
Selene tilted her head, amusement dancing in her gaze. “I see you’ve been keeping her close, rogue. But you’ve barely scratched the surface of her potential.”
Dynasty stepped forward, her pulse quickening. “What do you want?”
“To teach you.” Selene’s voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “The power you wield is ancient, but without guidance, it will consume you. I can help you control it.”
Eli growled low in his throat. “Don’t listen to her. She’s part of the pack. She just wants to use you.”
Dynasty hesitated, caught between the two. “And you don’t?” she asked Eli, her voice sharper than she intended.
Eli flinched, the pain in his eyes clear. “I don’t want to use you. I just want to keep you safe.”
Selene smiled faintly, her gaze never leaving Dynasty. “The choice is yours. Stay here, small and fearful, or step into your true self.”
***
That night, Dynasty couldn’t sleep. Selene’s words echoed in her mind, a siren call she couldn’t ignore.
“You’re thinking about her,” Eli said, breaking the silence.
Dynasty turned to him, guilt twisting in her chest. “She’s right, Eli. I don’t know what I’m capable of, and that scares me.”
“It should,” he replied, his voice low. “Power like yours doesn’t come without a cost. You can’t trust her.”
“But what if she’s the only one who can help me?”
Eli’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll come with you. I’m not letting you face her alone.”
***
The meeting with Selene was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Dynasty stood her ground, her violin at the ready as Selene circled her like a predator.
“You’ve barely scratched the surface,” Selene said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Dynasty lifted her bow, the first note cutting through the air like a blade. Selene flinched, her composure cracking as the melody wrapped around her like a storm.
But Selene didn’t back down. With a wave of her hand, she countered, her own power surging forward like a tidal wave.
Eli jumped between them, his wolf form emerging in a blur of motion. “Enough!” he roared, his voice shaking the trees.
The sound broke through the chaos, and Dynasty’s music wavered. Selene smirked. “You’ve got spirit, but you lack control. Call me when you’re ready to stop playing small.”
With that, she vanished, leaving Dynasty and Eli alone in the clearing.
***
In the weeks that followed, Dynasty threw herself into mastering her power, her music evolving into something fierce and unyielding. Eli remained by her side, his presence a reminder that she didn’t have to face her journey alone.
But the wolves weren’t finished with her, and neither was Selene.
Dynasty knew the final confrontation was coming, and this time, she wouldn’t just play to survive. She’d play to win.
As Dynasty stood on the edge of the city, her violin raised, Eli by her side, she felt the weight of her power settle over her like a second skin.
The wolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes burning with hunger.
Dynasty smiled. “Let’s give them a symphony they’ll never forget.”
Her bow descended, the first note ringing out like a battle cry.
The music wasn’t just a pull for the wolves. It was a power Dynasty had unknowingly inherited, one that could control or destroy.
Their love wasn’t perfect, but like a melody, it grew richer with every note, imperfectly beautiful and uniquely theirs.
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