MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA-Chapter 236: Dark Snow Meets Black Moon

Days Later...

It was morning when Reana passed through the gates of her pack, but the sight that greeted her was not home. It was a nightmare.

From the moment she entered the gates, Reana felt the air shift. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. And she could feel it.

"Hyaah!" she urged her horse forward, hooves pounding over the icy ground.

The closer she got to the pack house, the worse it became.

Finally, the cause of her unrest came into view.

Ahead, she saw strangers walked freely among her people – if they could still be called that. These weren’t guests. They weren’t allies...not yet. They wore dominance like armor, parading her pack like law enforcers. Except these weren’t law enforcers. These were bullies!

Her black moon warriors sprawled on the snow-covered lands – some twitching, some bleeding, some still.

At the training ring, she spotted another woman with braids woven with feathers and leaves, and her expression was carved from ice as she forced pups into sparing under her command, under the harsh weather with just pants on, while their mothers knelt around the ring, on the snow, wailing and begging.

The children couldn’t hold on. They were quivering yet couldn’t stop fighting. Their rages vary - from ten to fifteen. Around fifty children.

Reana’s veins stretched taut.

One brute on her horse’s path – a man with a wild fur cloak drawn over his shoulders. His chest was bare despite the cold, skin littered with dark and red inks – a red wolf tattooed on the side of his neck. His long, dark hair was braided with tiny bones and twigs—tokens of violence, not vanity.

Grabbed a kneeling omega by the jaw, tilting her head up with cruel fingers. She whimpered, whispering pleas beneath her breath—but he was merciless. His other hand raised a wineskin, and with a sneer twisting his face, raised it above her lips.

"Drink," he growled, his voice like gravel soaked in malice.

The omega shook her head, eyes wide, tears spilling freely. She turned her face, but his grip only tightened, forcing her face up. Slow blinded her but she had no time to care.

With a flash of cruelty, he let the wine pour over her face and mouth and had no intention of stopping.

Reana clenched her jaw, knuckles white from gripping the reins too tightly. Her heart thundered. Her vision tunneled as she wished the horse could teleport like Ryder.

At this point, she could kill that man. Literally.

"Let her go!"

The cry came from a nearby warrior who was bloody, battered, barely standing. A Black Moon fighter who had clearly taken too many blows but still rose to defend his pack member.

He charged at the brute with everything he had left.

But before he could even get close, the brute turned.

Fast. Too fast. And his hand shot out.

A thunderous slap cracked through the air, raw and brutal. It hit the warrior square in the face, sending him flying backward. He landed hard on the frozen ground, snow puffing around his motionless form as blood gushed from his mouth.

A few gasps echoed through the courtyard, but no one moved. No one dared. Many of the Black Moon Pack members were hurdles together, shivering under the snow. They wore nothing to protect themselves. Some were even wearing their night dresses.

Seemed like they were snatched from their beds.

Reana’s stomach twisted in revulsion.

How dare they!?

With a cry full of fury, she snapped the reins. "Hyaah!" slamming her heels into her stallion’s sides, and the beast surged forward.

Snow exploded beneath her horse’s hooves as she charged through the heart of the chaos. Eyes turned. Some widened. Others narrowed.

She didn’t slow.

Her horse was a blur—an unstoppable force slicing through the frostbitten morning.

Markkus and the warriors trailing behind her froze, their eyes going wide with horror as realization struck. Reana wasn’t simply riding in. She was aiming.

Charging.

Straight at one of the intruders.

They didn’t know exactly what her intention was—or maybe they did, but couldn’t bring themselves to believe it.

Because no one dared to act.

No one moved.

No one stopped her.

And meanwhile, Luna Reana of the Black Moon Pack had just one thing in mind:

Knock. That. Brute. Over!

The moment his head turned, the brute blinked, clearly not expecting a galloping stallion and a furious Luna bearing down on him like winter’s wrath.

Too late.

Reana leaned forward in the saddle, eyes locked on the target, her grip firm, her heart ablaze with fury. Her stallion let out a wild snort as her hooves pounded harder.

The brute barely had time to brace.

And then—

Crash.

Horse and rider collided into him like a storm, the force sending the man flying backwards through the snow. He hit the ground hard, skidding several feet, cloak tangled, bones and braids scattering across the icy earth.

Reana wheeled her horse around, hair whipping in the wind, eyes blazing with righteous rage.

"You don’t touch my pack," she growled, her voice low—sharp enough to cut stone.

The brute lay sprawled in the snow, unmoving. Her stallion’s hooves had struck him square in the chest, and the impact had knocked the air clean out of him. Bones may have cracked.

And attention, she got it all now.

Silence rippled across the courtyard like a shockwave.

Dozens of eyes, belonging to both her pack members and the bullies Ryder raised, locked on her.

But she didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

She sat tall in the saddle, her presence like a blade drawn under moonlight – cold, clean, and impossible to ignore.

"Get up," she snarled at the brute.

"I want you to look me in the eyes when I tear you down a second time." Her words were laced with venom, ice dripping dangerously from every syllable. "I’ll carve a scar right across your chest, so every time you breathe, you’ll remember who broke you."

A collective inhale swept through the crowd.

Her pack members were elated. Their Luna was back and things might be settled. But then again, they were not sure.

There were too many of them, almost half a thousand. And most of them were holding the elders and high-ranking warriors hostage in the hall.

The brute groaned, his fingers clawing at the snow as he tried to rise.

Meanwhile, Markkus and the others finally arrived, hearts hanging on their throats.

"No, this is bad," Markus murmured.

Reana dismounted in one fluid motion, her black boots crunching against the frostbitten ground. Her man’s cloak billowed behind her like a storm rolling in.

"Come on then," she said coldly, dragging out a glittering silver dagger from her waist, eyes locked on him. "Let’s see if the Dark Snow Pack bleeds like the rest."