Luna Lucky

11

Lily’s apartment was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of lavender candles and the sound of soft music playing from her speakers. It wasn’t fancy or large, but it felt safe—a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lily asked as she handed me a glass of water. Her hazel eyes flickered with concern as she studied me. “You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

I forced a smile, grateful for how much she had done for me already. “I’m fine,” I said, settling onto the couch. “Just… adjusting, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “Well, my family is going to love you. They’re a little loud, but once you get used to them, you’ll see how great they are.”

I nodded, trying to focus on her words instead of the gnawing unease that always lingered in the back of my mind. A new city, a new life, a new friend—it was everything I had hoped for when I left Ohio. But there were parts of me, pieces of my past, that refused to let go.

The Call

By the time Lily’s family arrived later that afternoon, her small apartment was buzzing with life. Cousins, siblings, and even a few family friends filled the space, their laughter and chatter creating a warm, chaotic energy. I found myself relaxing for the first time in weeks, even joining in on some of their conversations.

Then Lily’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing slightly before she answered. “Hello? Oh, hey! Yeah, she’s here. Hold on.” She turned to me, holding the phone out. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” I asked, startled. “Who is it?”

She shrugged. “Said her name is Ellie. Said you’d know her.”

My stomach dropped. The name hit like a thunderclap, dredging up memories I’d tried to bury. Ellie was one of the girls from the orphanage—a reminder of the life I thought I had left behind.

I hesitated, but Lily was already handing me the phone. With a deep breath, I pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Lucky,” Ellie’s voice was sharp, urgent. “I finally found you.”

“How—” I started, but she cut me off.

“No time for that,” she said quickly. “I need you to do something for Lola.”

The mention of Lola sent a chill down my spine. I gripped the phone tighter, my voice lowering as I moved to a quieter corner of the apartment. “I don’t work for Lola anymore.”

“You think she cares about that?” Ellie snapped. “She knows where you are, Lucky. If you don’t do this, it’s only going to get worse.”

My breath caught, fear constricting my chest. “What does she want?”

“There’s a package,” Ellie said. “It’s small, easy. You just have to drop it off. That’s all.”

I wanted to refuse, to tell Ellie to leave me alone and let me live my life. But the weight of Lola’s name crushed any resistance. “Fine,” I whispered. “Where?”

Ellie rattled off an address, and I quickly memorized it before hanging up. My hands trembled as I handed the phone back to Lily, plastering on a fake smile as I returned to the gathering.

“You okay?” Lily asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just an old friend.”

A Fleeting Moment of Joy

Despite the shadow of the call, I found myself easing into the reunion. Lily’s family was warm and welcoming, their infectious energy pulling me into their orbit. We laughed over shared stories, played games, and even danced to Lily’s uncle’s impromptu guitar performance.

For a brief moment, I let myself believe that I could stay here. That this life—simple, chaotic, and filled with love—could be mine.

Caught

The package delivery came weeks later. I had stalled as long as I could, hoping Ellie would forget or that Lola’s grip would loosen. But the message came again—clear, direct, and impossible to ignore.

The drop-off point was in a quiet alley on the outskirts of the city. I approached cautiously, the small package tucked under my arm as I scanned my surroundings. My heart raced, my instincts screaming at me to turn back. But I forced myself forward. Just one more step. Just one more job.

As I reached the designated spot, flashing blue and red lights flooded the alley. Panic surged as I turned to run, but it was too late. Two police officers stepped into my path, their hands on their holsters.

“Hands where we can see them,” one of them barked.

I froze, my breath hitching. “It’s not what it looks like,” I said quickly, but they weren’t listening. Within seconds, I was handcuffed and led to the back of a squad car.

The jail was cold and sterile, its fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as I sat in a holding cell. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what had gone wrong. Had Lola set me up? Was this her way of punishing me for leaving?

The answer came when I overheard the officers speaking near the desk.

“She was caught with the package,” one said. “Could’ve been a drug run, but these guys don’t seem like regular feds.”

I frowned, straining to hear more. The door opened, and a group of men entered, their presence commanding immediate attention. They wore dark uniforms with a faint crest I didn’t recognize, their movements precise and purposeful.

One of the officers approached them. “You’re here for the girl?”

“Yes,” one of the men said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s coming with us.”

“She’s facing charges,” the officer argued. “You’ll need to go through the proper channels.”

“We already have,” the man replied, handing over a thick folder. “Here are the orders. She’s under our jurisdiction now.”

The officer hesitated, flipping through the documents before nodding reluctantly. “Alright. She’s in holding. I’ll get her.”

Moments later, the cell door opened, and one of the uniformed men stepped inside. “Lucky Berry,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re coming with us.”

I stared at him, my stomach twisting with fear and confusion. “Who are you?”

“Royal guards,” he said simply. “You’re being taken to the prince.”

And now, there was no escape.

The ride from the police station was nothing like what I expected.

After being escorted out of the cold, fluorescent-lit holding cell, I was led through a side door where a sleek black limousine waited. I hesitated at the sight of it, the shining vehicle a jarring contrast to the shabby surroundings of the jail. The officer beside me opened the door with a deferential bow of his head, gesturing for me to step inside.

“Is this… for me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Miss Berry,” he said, his tone formal and polite. “They’re waiting for you.”

They. My stomach churned as I stepped into the car, half-expecting to see handcuffs or guards ready to shove me back into submission. Instead, I was greeted by a man who could have stepped out of a movie.

He sat straight-backed in an immaculate dark uniform, adorned with subtle yet powerful insignias. His sharp blue eyes met mine as I slid into the plush leather seat across from him. He looked composed, calm, and utterly unreadable.

“Miss Berry,” he said, his voice smooth and steady. “Welcome. I’m General Elias Thorn, head of the Royal Guard. I’ll be escorting you personally.”

The door shut behind me with a soft click, and the limo began to move. I couldn’t look away from him, every nerve in my body on high alert. “Royal Guard?” I repeated, my voice tinged with disbelief. “What’s happening? Why am I here?”

“You’ll find out soon,” he said, his tone measured. “But first, allow me to apologize on behalf of the Crown for any discomfort you may have experienced during your… detainment.”

I blinked, trying to process his words. “Detainment? You mean my arrest? You’re apologizing for that?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. The details have been cleared, and you are now under our protection.”

“Protection?” I echoed, my confusion mounting. “From who? From what?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead nodding to a small compartment near the side of the car. “You’ll find new clothes there, chosen for your comfort. If they’re not to your liking, you may let me know.”

I hesitated, glancing at the sleek black box. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing,” General Thorn replied, his tone as neutral as ever. “But your current clothing has been taken for evidence. You’ll need something appropriate for your arrival.”

My arrival. The words sent a chill through me, though I couldn’t explain why. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the King,” he said simply.

The air left my lungs. “The King?” I whispered, shaking my head. “This… this has to be a mistake. I don’t know any kings. I don’t know anything about—”

“There’s no mistake,” he said, cutting me off gently but firmly. “You’re expected. And you’ll be treated with the respect you deserve.”

Respect. The word felt foreign, almost laughable. Nothing about this situation made sense. I was nobody—a runaway with a past too dark to share and a life too messy to fix. And yet, here I was, sitting in a limousine, being addressed as if I were… someone. Someone important.

“Why?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why are you treating me like this?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because you are royalty.”

My laugh was sharp, bitter. “Royalty? Me? You’ve got the wrong person.”

“No,” he said firmly, his sharp gaze holding mine. “We haven’t.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. I didn’t touch the new clothes, too overwhelmed to move. When the limo finally slowed to a stop, I glanced out the window and felt my breath catch.