His Father’s Luna : The Betrayed Warrior’s Return

Lyra’s POV The mud on my boots weighed more than my sword, caked thick with the grime of the borderlands and the dried blood of rogues. My lungs burned with the cold, damp air of the Crimson Moon territory, but for the first time in six months, the ache in my muscles felt like a victory rather than a burden. I was home. Finally. The iron gates of the Pack estate loomed ahead, the familiar crest of the howling wolf carved into the stone. The guards, recognizing my scent before they even saw my face, bowed their heads as I passed. “Welcome back, Warrior Lyra,” one of them murmured, respect lacing his tone. I nodded, too exhausted to speak, but a small, secret smile tugged at the corner of my lips. They called me a warrior, a shield for the pack, a weapon honed by the Crimson Moon. But tonight, I wasn’t just a soldier returning from the slaughter. I was a woman returning to the man she loved. Anton. The name alone was enough to warm the chill in my bones. For six months, while I slept in trenches and tore out the throats of invaders, the thought of him had been my anchor. I touched the silver chain hanging around my neck, feeling the cool metal of the ring he’d given me before I deployed. It wasn’t a mating ring, not yet, but a promise. We hadn’t been together long. Just two intense, whirlwind years since I’d been promoted to the Elite Guard and caught the eye of the Alpha’s adopted heir. Unlike the high-born wolves who spent their lives in the castle, I’d clawed my way up from the lower ranks, and Anton had been fascinated by that grit. He told me I was the only thing real in a life full of politics and pretense. Rumor had it that the Alpha King, Fenrir, was pushing for Anton to finally choose a mate this season. We hadn’t made it official because Anton always said he needed to secure his position against the council first. But we both knew. It was us. I bypassed the main hall, avoiding the celebratory noise of the pack members who were likely drinking away the night. I needed to wash the scent of death off my skin before I saw him, but my feet betrayed me. They carried me not to the warriors’ barracks, but straight to the East Wing, where the Heir’s quarters were. I couldn’t wait another second. I didn’t care about the mud or the blood. I needed to see him, to touch him, to know that the last six months of hell were finally over. I needed to see that crooked grin that made the war seem far away. The hallway was silent, lined with velvet tapestries that muffled my heavy combat boots. I reached his door, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was the wing where Anton had grown up, raised alongside the Alpha’s daughter, Selena. It was a world of silk and soft light, so different from the rough barracks I was used to. As I reached for the handle, intending to crack it open, I realized it wasn’t locked. I pushed the heavy oak door inward an inch. The room was dim, lit only by the soft, golden glow of the fireplace and a few scattered candles. The scent hit me first. Not the metallic tang of blood I was used to, but something cloying and sweet. Vanilla. Lavender. And beneath it, the heavy, musk-laden scent of aroused male. My breath hitched, and my wolf, Hera, usually dormant and disciplined, bristled beneath my skin, letting out a low, warning growl in my mind. Mate? she questioned, confused. Danger? Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door fully open. The scene before me seemed to move in slow motion. The room was warm, a stark contrast to the freezing rain outside, and clothes were scattered across the rug…a man’s tunic, a woman’s silk robe. On the oversized bed, amidst a tangle of chaotic sheets, were two figures entangled in a naked embrace. Anton was lying back against the pillows, his skin flushed and glistening in the firelight. Curled against him, her head resting on his bare chest and her arm thrown possessively over his stomach, was a woman. Her back was to me, but I knew that cascading curtain of silver-blonde hair. I knew the delicate curve of those shoulders. Selena. The Alpha King’s daughter. The “Princess” of the Pack who had been away studying in the capital for three years. My helmet slipped from my numb fingers, and it hit the floor with a deafening clang, the sound shattering the intimacy of the room like a tolling bell. The two figures on the bed froze. Anton’s head snapped up, and when his eyes landed on me, the color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse. “Lyra?” Selena didn’t scramble away. She didn’t shriek or even try to cover herself. Instead, she turned her head slowly over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide and glistening. She looked perfect. Even naked, with her lips swollen and her skin flushed, she looked like a porcelain doll. I stood there, encased in dirty, dented armor, dripping muddy water onto the pristine rug. I felt huge, clumsy, and utterly grotesque. “Anton,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “What is this?” Anton scrambled, pushing Selena gently, too gently, to the side as he swung his legs off the bed. He grabbed a sheet to cover himself, though the damage was already done. “Lyra, wait. You—you’re back early. I thought the campaign would last another week.” “That’s what you have to say?” I stepped into the room, the door thudding shut behind me. The rage was starting to burn through the shock, hot and suffocating. “I’ve been bleeding in the mud for this pack. For you. And I come back to find you…like this?” Selena adjusted the sheet around her chest, sitting up with a grace I could never mimic. She looked at Anton, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. “Lyra, please,” Selena said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made my stomach churn. “Don’t overreact. You look…exhausted. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” I stared at her hand on his skin. “I’m seeing you in his bed, Selena. I ‘m smelling you all over him.” Anton stood up, holding his hands out as if approaching a wild animal. “Lyra, listen to me. Selena just got back. She was…she was upset. She needed comfort. We’ve always comforted each other.” “Is that really how you comfort her?” I asked, the words tasting like ash. “You told me I was the one, Anton. Two years…was it all a lie until she came back?” “We aren’t sleeping together!” Selena interjected, her eyes widening with feigned innocence. She looked at Anton, then back to me, a small, pitying smile playing on her lips. “Oh, Lyra. You really don’t understand, do you? You haven’t been part of this family long enough.” She stepped out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself like a gown, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell of my armor. “Anton and I grew up in this castle together. We shared a nursery. We learned to walk in these halls. We’re practically family. I was cold, and we were just sharing body heat. It’s a pack instinct between those who share a history. It’s not what it looks like! We’re just like siblings.” Siblings. The word hung in the air, grotesque and laughable. Siblings didn’t claw marks down each other’s backs. Siblings didn’t smell like s*x and vanilla. But the way she said it…it was designed to make me feel small. To remind me that while I had been Anton’s lover for two years, she had been his companion for twenty. They had a language, a history, and a bond that I could never touch. I was just the soldier he picked up along the way. I looked at Anton, waiting for him to deny it. Waiting for him to push her away and tell me the truth…that our two years meant more than their childhood nostalgia. But he didn’t. He looked at Selena, and I saw the way his eyes lingered on her face, soft, yielding, desperate. Then he looked at me, hard, battle-worn, scarred. “She’s right, Lyra,” Anton said, though his voice lacked conviction. He straightened his spine, adopting the haughty posture of the Heir he’d been raised to be. The posture she knew, and I merely tolerated. “Selena is the Alpha’s daughter. We share a bond you cannot understand. It’s my duty to protect and comfort her. You shouldn’t make accusations you can’t prove. It looks bad on you.” He took a breath, his gaze hardening. “It looks…jealous. And unstable.” Unstable. The betrayal didn’t feel like a knife in the back. It felt like the ground opening up and swallowing me whole, and I realized then that I wasn’t just fighting for a man’s heart. I was fighting a history I couldn’t defeat. He was the adopted heir. She was the biological daughter. They were the golden children of the Crimson Moon, bound by a lifetime of memories. And I? I was just the placeholder. The distraction he used to pass the time while the real princess was away at school. “Siblings,” I repeated, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low timbre. I reached up and unclasped my cloak, letting the heavy, waterlogged wool drop to the floor. “You think I’m stupid, Anton? Do you think the war took my senses?” “I think you’re tired,” Anton said firmly, stepping between me and Selena, shielding her. Protecting her from me. “Go to the barracks, Lyra. Wash up. Rest. We will discuss your…assignment…in the morning.” Assignment. Not our future. Not our love. My assignment. I looked at Selena peeking out from behind his shoulder. For a split second, the mask of innocence slipped, and I saw a smirk, sharp, predatory, and triumphant. She had marked her territory. She had returned to reclaim what was hers, and she had won without lifting a finger. I backed away slowly, my hand gripping the hilt of my sword, not to draw it, but to ground myself. If I stayed one second longer, I would tear this room apart. And if I did that, I would be branded a traitor to the crown. “Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll go.” I turned my back on them, leaving my helmet on the floor. “Welcome home, Lyra,” Selena called out softly behind me. I walked out into the cold hallway, the door clicking shut behind me. I didn’t go to the barracks. I walked blindly through the corridors, the adrenaline fading, leaving behind a cold, hollow agony. He chose her. He betrayed me. I stopped in front of a heavy mirror in the hallway, and looked at my reflection. Matted hair, dirt-streaked face, eyes wild with pain. Then I thought of Selena’s silk skin and perfect hair. She belonged in this castle. I was just a visitor who had overstayed her welcome. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and stinging, but I refused to let them fall. I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. They think I’m just a soldier, I thought, staring into my own dark eyes. They think I’ll bow my head and accept my place. I placed a hand over my flat stomach, a sudden, intuitive nausea rolling over me. They’re wrong. The sadness began to crystallize, hardening into something cold and sharp. I wasn’t just a warrior who fought for the pack. I was a survivor. And as I stared at the reflection of the broken woman in the mirror, I decided that the Lyra who loved Anton died in that room tonight. The woman staring back at me was someone else entirely. And as a devious plan started to take root in my mind, I knew I was going to burn them both to the ground.