The Alpha’s Forgotten Luna

Valerie POV “Out!” Viva’s voice slammed into me like a slap. She stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, the vein in her forehead throbbing hard enough that I could see it pulse. “You shameless slut,” she said, “You brought nothing but shame to this family.” My throat tightened. I tried to speak but the words stuck. Tears burned hot on my cheeks and I wiped them away with the back of my hand, but more came right after. The old brown couch behind her was still dented from where Dad always sat. The same faded rug I had vacuumed a thousand times stretched between us, and the smell of leftover beans from dinner still hung in the air. Everything looked normal but it felt like it was cracking apart. “Mom… I’m sorry, I—” Before I could finish, Sera stepped out from the hallway. My stepsister moved like she owned the whole house, arms folded tight across her chest, one shoulder pressed against the wall. She chewed her gum loud and slow, jaw working side to side. “Let her out,” Sera said, voice flat. “All she ever does is drag shame into this house. Useless. Look at you…carrying a bastard child.” I instinctively rested one hand over the small, firm swell of my belly. “Please…” My voice cracked. “I have no one outside. Mom, please let me explain.” I looked straight at Viva. Her face didn’t change. No softness, no flicker. Just…cold. Sera gave a small laugh and leaned harder into the wall, one leg kicked out like she was waiting for a bus. “I told you I would always win,” Sera said, and the laugh turned into a chuckle that made my stomach twist. Heat rushed up my neck. “How could you?” I stepped forward without thinking. “After everything I’ve done for this family, and now this?” Viva actually took a small step back. Her eyes blinked once, surprised. For half a second I thought maybe she heard me. Then Sera moved fast, fist raised right in front of my face. “You better don’t!” she snapped. Viva’s hand shot out and caught Sera’s arm. “You don’t need to,” she said calmly. “That face is going to serve a purpose soon.” Sera glared at me, lips pressed thin, then dropped her fist and walked back into the house. Her shoulders stayed stiff the whole way. “Mom—” Sera started again. “Don’t,” Viva cut her off, sharp as a knife. Then she turned back to me. I stood there with both hands pressed over the large birthmark on my left cheek, trying to hide it even though I knew it was pointless. The skin under my palms felt hot and tight. “It’s too late,” Viva said. “At least now I can have my peace. No more of your trash noise.” She clicked her tongue, turned, and shut the front door hard. The lock clicked into place with a heavy, final sound that echoed in the quiet street. I stood on the cracked concrete porch, arms wrapped around myself. The night air was cold and damp, the kind that sneaks under your clothes and settles in your bones. My teeth started chattering even though I tried to clench them shut. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, but it didn’t help. What did she mean?? The question kept turning in my head while my breath came out in short puffs. I glanced back at the closed door, at the thin strip of yellow light still leaking from under it, and felt my chest squeeze tighter. Two men stepped out of the shadows at the end of the street. Brown shirts, plain black trousers, boots that scraped against the road. They walked straight toward me, faces blank, like this was just another job. “Miss Valerie,” the taller one said, “you better follow us.” I took one step back. “No… I’m not going anywhere.” The words barely left my mouth before the other man grabbed me. One second I was standing on my own porch, the next my feet left the ground and I was hanging over his shoulder like a sack of rice. My stomach pressed hard against his shoulder bone as I kicked and hit his back with my fists. “Drop me! Don’t you dare!” He didn’t even flinch. Every punch I landed felt like I was hitting myself. My knuckles burned. My hair swung in my face. I could smell the cheap soap on his shirt and the dust from the road. They carried me down the street to an old wooden carriage parked under a broken streetlight. The wood was rough and splintered. When they dumped me onto the bench inside, my tailbone hit hard and pain shot up my spine. I hissed through my teeth and rubbed the spot, trying to catch my breath. The inside of the carriage smelled like old hay, sweat, and fear. About a dozen other girls my age sat hunched on the benches, knees pulled up to their chests, faces buried in their arms. No one looked at me. Their bare feet were swollen with dirt, toes curled tight like they were trying to disappear into themselves. I sat there, heart still hammering, sweat already cooling on my skin and making me shiver. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I pressed them between my knees and stared at the floorboards. A soft tap landed on my shoulder. I jumped and turned. A girl with a shaved head and tired eyes gave me a small, sad smile. Tears had dried in streaks down her cheeks, but she still had colorful waist beads around her slim waist. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. “Hey,” she whispered. I nodded, too scared to speak right away. “Where are you from?” she asked, voice so quiet I had to lean in. “Moonlight pack,” I managed to say. “What about you?” The man riding shotgun turned around fast. “Are you all mad!” he barked, lifting a thick stick. “Shut up back there!” All of us flinched. The girls closest to him scooted back, shoulders bumping together. The stick hovered for a second, then he lowered it and faced forward again. The bald girl waited until the carriage started moving before she answered. “Danol pack.” “How long have you been in here?” I asked. She lifted her head, checked that no one was listening, then leaned against my shoulder like we’d known each other for years. “One month. Everyone here got taken for different reasons.” The carriage wheels creaked and bumped over every hole in the road. My legs itched from sitting still. Every stop made my stomach drop. I kept thinking about the house I just left, about the door shutting, about the way Viva’s eyes looked right through me. I gently lifted the girl’s head and set it on the thin blanket beside me, then crawled over to the small window. The cloth covering it was stiff with dirt. I pulled it back just enough to see outside. Night had swallowed everything. Maybe Mom knew this was coming. That’s why she threw me out so easy. The thought hit hard. I was four when my real mom died. Four years old and already carrying this mark on my face like a curse. Everyone after that treated me like I was the reason things went wrong… Tears came fast now. I tried wiping them but they just kept falling, dripping onto the dirty floor of the carriage. My shoulders shook. I hugged my knees tighter, pressing my pregnant belly against my thighs. The small bump felt warm under my hands. I remembered David’s face at the moonlight ceremony, the way he looked at me in front of the whole pack and said the words that still burned in my ears. I remembered the one-night stand after that, the stranger in the woods, the way he touched me like I mattered. That was the only time anyone had made me feel wanted. My stomach cramped suddenly. A wet warmth spread between my legs. “Hey,” one of the girls across from me whispered, eyes wide. “You’re bleeding!!!”