The Cursed Alpha’s Unwanted And Powerless Luna

The Trap

Chapter 8: The Trap

The night before her departure, Annabelle couldn't sleep.

She lay in Jason's bed, clutching his pillow. The scent of him was fading. She missed his warmth. His strength. His presence. The empty space beside her felt vast and cold, a constant reminder of how far away he was.

"What would you do if you were here?" she whispered to the empty room.

Her wolf stirred. Fight. Protect. Survive.

Annabelle smiled grimly. "Right. Survive."

She rose before dawn and dressed in simple clothes. No silver gowns. No Luna regalia. She looked like the old Annabelle—the frightened, powerless girl who had been sold to a stranger. The girl who had never known love, never known safety, never known what it felt like to be wanted.

But inside, her wolf was ready. Her power thrummed beneath her skin, silver and bright. She was anything but powerless. She was the Lunar Elf Wolf, the breaker of curses, the mate of an Alpha. And she was done being a victim.

She slipped the recording charm into her sleeve—a gift from one of the pack's elders, a small silver disc that would capture every word spoken in its presence. She packed her small bag with essentials. A change of clothes. Some food. A knife. She took one last look at the castle that had become her home, at the sun rising over the eastern towers, at the pack members already beginning their morning routines.

"I'll be back," she whispered. "I promise."

---

Three hours later, Annabelle stood at the gates of the Wright mansion.

It looked the same. Cold. Imposing. The marble pillars gleamed in the morning light, but the shine couldn't hide the cracks. The gardens were overgrown, choked with weeds. The windows were dark, like hollow eyes staring out at the world.

She took a deep breath and walked forward, her heart pounding in her chest.

The front door swung open before she could knock. Clara stood in the doorway, her face a mask of fake joy. She was dressed in fine silk, her hair perfectly arranged, her smile carefully practiced.

"Annabelle!" She rushed forward, arms outstretched. "You came! Oh, I'm so happy!"

Annabelle allowed herself to be embraced. Clara smelled of expensive perfume and lies. The scent made her stomach turn.

"Clara." Annabelle's voice was soft. Vulnerable. Exactly what her sister wanted to hear. "I was so scared to come. But I had to. I had to see them."

"Of course you did." Clara pulled back, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. "Come inside. Mother and Father are waiting."

Annabelle stepped over the threshold. The mansion smelled the same—familiar and suffocating. The same marble floors. The same chandeliers. The same cold emptiness that had haunted her childhood.

But she wasn't the same. And this time, she was ready.

"We've missed you so much," Clara gushed, leading her to the sitting room. "Everything will be just like it used to be."

Annabelle smiled, hiding her contempt. "I hope so. I really hope so."

As she settled into her old chair, she activated the recording charm hidden in her sleeve. A faint hum vibrated against her skin. The trap was set.

Now she just had to wait for Clara to reveal her true colors.

---

The sitting room was unchanged. The same floral wallpaper. The same antique furniture. The same portrait of Clara hanging above the fireplace, beautiful and untouchable. Annabelle had spent countless hours staring at that portrait, wondering why she could never be like her sister. Wondering why she was never enough.

Mrs. Wright entered first, her face streaked with tears. "Annabelle! My darling girl!" She rushed forward, pulling Annabelle into a tight embrace. "I thought I'd never see you again. I was so cruel. So blind. Please forgive me."

Annabelle stiffened, forcing herself to endure the touch. "Of course, Mother." The word tasted like ash in her mouth.

Mr. Wright followed, leaning heavily on a cane. His face was pale. His eyes were red-rimmed. He looked genuinely ill, his movements slow and pained.

"Annabelle." His voice cracked. "I'm so sorry. For everything. We don't deserve your forgiveness. But we're begging for it."

Annabelle studied him carefully. The illness seemed real. But so did the greed in his eyes. The calculation behind his tears. She had seen that look before—the look of a man weighing his options, measuring his profit.

"Please," Mrs. Wright pleaded. "Stay with us. Just for a few days. Let us make things right."

Annabelle nodded slowly. "I'd like that."

Clara clapped her hands with glee. "Wonderful! I'll have your old room prepared. Everything will be just like it used to be."

Annabelle smiled, but her wolf growled with suspicion. Nothing about this felt right. Every word was too careful, too rehearsed.

---

Her old room was exactly as she remembered it. Small. Cramped. A thin mattress on the floor. A single window overlooking the overgrown garden. The walls were cold stone, the floor uneven. It had never been a proper bedroom—it had been a storage closet, converted to hold the unwanted daughter.

Clara had added a vase of fresh flowers. A nice touch. Almost convincing.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Clara said from the doorway. "Rest. You must be exhausted."

Annabelle nodded. "Thank you, Clara."

Clara's smile faltered for just a moment. Something flickered in her eyes. Triumph? Anticipation? It was gone before Annabelle could be certain.

"Anything for my dear sister," she murmured, and closed the door.

Annabelle waited until Clara's footsteps faded. Then she pulled out the recording charm. It hummed faintly, glowing silver in her palm. Everything was being captured. Every word. Every lie.

She tucked it back into her sleeve and began to search the room. Old habits. She checked under the mattress. Inside the closet. Behind the curtains.

Nothing. Just dust and memories.

She sat on the mattress, her wolf pacing restlessly. Something felt wrong. The air was too still. The silence too heavy. The walls seemed to press in around her.

Then she heard it.

Whispers. Coming from the walls.

Annabelle pressed her ear to the cold stone. Faint voices. Muffled. But unmistakable.

"She suspects nothing," Clara's voice drifted through. "She fell for it completely. Just like I knew she would."

"She's here. That's all that matters." Mr. Wright's voice. Sharp. Eager. "Once we have her, the debt is paid. The Alpha will pay anything to get her back. He's obsessed with her."

Annabelle's blood ran cold. They were planning to ransom her. Hold her hostage. Use her as leverage against Jason. All the letters, all the apologies—it was all a performance.

"I told you it would work," Clara continued. "Annabelle was always desperate for love. She'd believe anything if it meant someone finally cared. It's pathetic, really. She never learns."

"True love," Mrs. Wright laughed bitterly. "The poor fool. She never learned, did she? No matter how many times we hurt her, she kept coming back. Kept hoping. Kept believing we'd change."

"Her weakness is our strength." Clara's voice was ice. "Now we just have to keep her here until the Alpha returns. Then we make our demand. The money, the status, everything we deserve."

"And if the Alpha refuses?" Mr. Wright asked.

Clara laughed. "Then we have other options. We're already criminals. What's one more mistake?"

Annabelle's hands trembled. Her wolf howled with fury. They were going to hurt her again. Just like they'd always planned. Every letter. Every apology. It was all a carefully constructed trap.

She pressed the recording charm closer to the wall. It would capture everything. Every word. Every threat. Every proof of their betrayal.

"One more thing," Mr. Wright added, his voice dropping lower. "The Witch Queen's messenger arrived last night. She wants Annabelle delivered to her. Alive."

"Delivered?" Clara's voice sharpened. "We're not delivering her anywhere. She's our ticket to wealth. Our—"

"The Witch Queen doesn't ask, Clara. She demands." Mr. Wright's voice was grim. "If we don't comply, she'll destroy us all. Her power is beyond anything we can imagine. She'll burn this mansion to the ground with us inside it."

Silence. Then Clara spoke, her voice hollow and defeated. "So we give Annabelle to the Witch Queen?"

"We give her to the Witch Queen. And we take the payment. The debt is cleared. We're free. The Wright family rises again. We can start over somewhere else, build something new."

Annabelle felt the world tilt. The Witch Queen. Her enemy. The one who cursed Jason. The one who wanted her blood, her power, her very life.

They were going to hand her over. Like property. Like livestock. Just like they'd done before.

She stumbled back from the wall, her heart pounding. She needed to leave. Now. Before they came for her.

She reached for her bag—

The door swung open.

Clara stood in the doorway, flanked by two guards. Her smile was no longer sweet. It was predatory. Victorious. The mask had finally fallen.

"Going somewhere, sister?"

Annabelle's wolf snarled. Silver light flickered across her skin, bright and fierce. "Let me go, Clara. I'm warning you."

Clara laughed, sharp and cruel. "You're in no position to warn anyone. You're in my house. My territory. And you're completely alone. No Alpha to protect you. No pack to save you."

She stepped closer, her eyes cold and calculating.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave? Did you really think we'd changed?" Clara's laugh was brittle, mocking. "You're pathetic, Annabelle. You always have been. You always will be. So desperate for love that you'll believe anything."

Annabelle's power surged. Silver light exploded from her body, pushing back the guards. The room shook with the force of it. "I'm not the same girl you gave away. I'm the Lunar Elf Wolf. And I will—"

"Will what?" Clara raised her hand, and dark magic swirled around her fingers. "I've been preparing for this moment. The Witch Queen gave me a gift. A little something to neutralize your precious power."

The dark magic shot forward, wrapping around Annabelle like chains of shadow. She gasped, struggling against it. Her silver light flickered. Dimmed. Faded. The darkness pressed in, suffocating and cold.

"What... what did you do to me?"

Clara's smile was pure poison. "Just a little spell. It won't hurt you. But it will keep you weak. Powerless. Just like the old days. Just like you always were."

Annabelle collapsed to her knees, her wolf whimpering. The dark magic pulsed around her, suffocating her power, draining her strength. She could barely move, barely breathe.

"You're going to the Witch Queen," Clara whispered, crouching before her. "And there's nothing you can do to stop it. She's going to take everything from you. Your power. Your future . Everything you've stolen from me."

Annabelle looked up, her eyes blazing with defiance despite her weakness. "Jason will come for me. He'll burn this place to the ground. He'll—"

"Jason isn't coming." Clara's smile widened. "The Witch Queen's forces are already attacking the border. Your precious Alpha is trapped. Fighting for his life. By the time he realizes you're gone, it'll be too late. You'll already be in her hands."

Annabelle's heart shattered. Jason. Under attack. Fighting alone. He'd be worried about her. He'd be distracted. What if he got hurt? What if—

She struggled against the dark chains, but they held her tight. Her power was gone. Trapped. She was helpless.

Just like the old days.

"Take her to the dungeon," Clara commanded. "And send word to the Witch Queen. Our payment is ready."

The guards dragged Annabelle away, her silver light flickering one last time before going dark.

Clara watched her go, her smile never fading.

"Enjoy your last moments, sister. Because I certainly will."

The door slammed shut, plunging Annabelle into darkness.

And somewhere in the distance, she heard the Witch Queen's laughter echoing through the halls.

---