Alpha's Regret: The Forsaken Luna

Chapter 9: Ghosts and Shadows

Rhiannon's POV

"You can't be serious."

Sera stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

"The contract pays triple our usual rate," I said, keeping my voice steady. "We'd be fools to turn it down."

"It's Crescent Moon," she hissed. We were alone in our tent, Soren asleep in the corner. "Your old pack. The place that—"

"I know what it is." I cut her off, sharpening my blade with controlled strokes. The metal sang against the whetstone. "And they're paying us to save their lives. Business is business."

"This isn't business. This is you walking straight back into hell."

She wasn't wrong.

When Alpha Garrett had delivered the message—Crescent Moon requesting the Silver Claws' help, payment tripled, urgency extreme—my first instinct had been to refuse.

Let them burn. Let Darius face the consequences of his weakness. Let the pack that had mocked me fight their own battles.

But then I'd thought of the innocents. The omegas. The children who had nothing to do with what happened to me.

And I'd thought of Soren.

If Crescent Moon fell, the rogues would spread. Other territories would be threatened. Including the places where we operated.

"We take the contract," I said firmly. "But I stay masked. No one knows who I am. We do the job and leave."

Sera's violet eyes searched mine. "And if he recognizes you?"

"He won't." I set down the blade. "I'm not the broken girl he threw away. I'm The Phantom. A stranger."

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Fine. But I'm watching your back every second."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

We arrived at Crescent Moon's borders at dawn.

The packhouse looked exactly as I remembered. Stone and timber, sprawling across the hilltop like a sleeping beast. The training grounds. The central square where I'd been humiliated.

Where my life had ended.

My chest tightened, but I forced the feeling down. Buried it deep.

"Big place," Marcus muttered beside me. "Rich pack."

"Old pack," I corrected. "Old money. Old traditions."

Old wounds.

A group of wolves approached—warriors, by their stance. At their head was a man I recognized immediately.

Cade.

Darius's beta. The one who'd been kind to me, once. Who'd looked at me with pity after the rejection.

He'd aged. Lines creased his face that hadn't been there five years ago. His eyes were harder.

"You're the Silver Claws?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over us.

"We are," I said, pitching my voice lower. Rougher. "You requested our services."

His eyes lingered on my mask—silver, covering the upper half of my face. "The Phantom, I presume?"

I nodded once.

"The Alpha wants to meet you. To discuss strategy." Cade's expression was unreadable. "This way."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Darius.

I was about to see Darius.

"Boss?" Marcus's voice was quiet. Concerned.

"I'm fine," I lied. "Let's go."

The war room was exactly as I remembered.

Large oak table. Maps spread across every surface. Weapons mounted on the walls. And standing at the head of the table, studying a document with furrowed brows—

Darius.

Time stopped.

He looked... tired. Older. The boyish edges I'd loved had been worn away, replaced by sharp angles and shadows under his eyes. His hair was longer, unkempt. His ceremonial robes hung loose on a frame that seemed thinner than it should be.

He looked like a man being eaten alive from the inside.

Good.

"Alpha," Cade said. "The Silver Claws have arrived."

Darius looked up.

His storm-gray eyes met mine.

And for one terrifying second, I thought he knew.

But his gaze passed over me without recognition. Without even a flicker of interest.

"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice rough. "We have a situation."

He didn't remember me.

Of course he didn't.

I was masked. Changed. Five years had transformed me from a broken girl into a weapon.

So why did it hurt that he didn't recognize me?

"We're aware of the situation," I said, forcing steel into my voice. "Rogue attack. Fifty strong. Three nights from now."

"Seventy," Darius corrected grimly. "We've had scouts report in. They've been joined by another faction."

Seventy rogues. Against a pack of two hundred. The odds were better, but casualties would be high.

"What's your defensive plan?" I asked.

Darius gestured to the map. "We'll fortify the main gates, position archers on the walls, and keep the omegas and children in the safe rooms underground."

Standard. Predictable.

"That won't work," I said.

His eyes snapped to me, flashing with irritation. "Excuse me?"

"Rogues don't fight like pack wolves. They don't respect walls or formations." I moved to the table, studying the map. "They'll split into smaller groups, hit you from multiple angles. Your archers will be useless in close combat."

"And what would you suggest?" His tone was cold. Challenging.

I met his gaze through the mask. "You put half your warriors on the walls, but you keep mobile units on the ground. Fast, flexible. When the rogues breach—and they will—your ground teams engage immediately while the archers provide cover."

Silence.

Cade leaned forward, studying the map. "That... could work."

"It will work," I said. "The Silver Claws will position at key breach points. We'll take the brunt of the first wave."

Darius's jaw tightened. "I won't ask mercenaries to die for my pack."

"You're not asking. You're paying." I straightened. "This is what we do. Trust us to do it."

Something flickered in his eyes. Respect? Suspicion?

"Fine," he said finally. "We'll do it your way. But I want daily briefings. I need to know every movement, every change."

"Agreed."

Our eyes locked. And for just a moment, I felt it—that old pull. The phantom of a bond that no longer existed.

Then he looked away.

"Cade will show you to your quarters," he said dismissively. "We'll reconvene at dusk."

I nodded and turned to leave.

"Phantom."

I froze.

Darius was watching me, his expression unreadable. "Why did you take this contract? We're not in your usual territory."

The question hung in the air.

I could have lied. Said it was the money. The reputation.

Instead, I said, "Because no one deserves to die for someone else's mistakes."

His face went pale.

I left before he could respond.