《Luna Rising: The Abandoned Omega Queen》

The chains were cold today. Colder than usual, Erin noticed, as the morning frost bit at her bare ankles. The dungeon never pretended to be kind, but today the silver shackles seemed to mock her with every painful pulse against her skin. She lifted her head just enough to see the faint silhouette of a guard pacing behind the iron bars. Same armor. Same stench of sweat and wolf musk. Same disdain in his eyes when he looked at her—as if she were nothing more than a rabid beast that should’ve been put down months ago. Once, she had been admired. Respected. Desired. Once, she had a scent that made Alpha males stumble and choke with need. But that was before. Before Soraya, her best friend, had stolen her scent. Before Alpha Kael—her so-called fated mate—had looked her in the eyes and chosen someone else. Before the council declared her an abomination and threw her in this hellhole. Erin curled tighter into herself, wrapping trembling arms around her knees as silver burned into her wrists. Her once-healing fingers were blistered and blackened. She was the pack healer—trained from birth to mend wounds with a touch, soothe pain with a whisper. But no amount of skill could heal the wound tearing through her chest. Not when it was betrayal that had cut her open. “You should have submitted,” growled a familiar voice. Erin flinched, lifting her eyes to see Commander Dax looming at the gate, holding a heavy key ring that jangled like a death sentence. “Alpha Kael was merciful. He offered you a chance to accept your place beside Soraya. You spat in his face.” “I spit on liars,” Erin rasped, her voice hoarse from days of silence. “And cowards who chain innocent people.” Dax's lips curled. “Innocent? You attacked a Luna. Stole from your own pack.” She laughed bitterly. “She stole from me.” The slap came fast. So fast she didn’t see it—only felt the sting and the warm trickle of blood on her cheek. “You're lucky he doesn’t want your head,” Dax said coldly. “But it won’t matter soon. Tomorrow, you'll be presented to the council. After that... exile, if you’re lucky. Or execution.” He turned to leave. Erin’s voice stopped him. “I’ll walk out of here on my own terms,” she said quietly. “You’ll regret the day you ever laid hands on me.” Dax scoffed and disappeared into the stone hallway. Erin slumped back, pain throbbing in her bones. But her lips curled ever so slightly. He didn’t know. No one did. Because tonight—after three months of planning, memorizing guard rotations, and carefully hiding stolen scraps of metal—Erin would escape. --- Hours passed like dying embers, flickering slow and cruel. When night finally came, Erin waited. Listened. Footsteps. One set. Same rhythm. The guard who always paused at the corner for a smoke. Click. The sound of a lighter. Now. Erin reached into the moldy straw beneath her and pulled out a twisted sliver of iron she had sharpened with her teeth and determination. Her fingers trembled as she picked the lock on the manacle. One. Two. Three agonizing minutes later, the cuff dropped silently to the ground. The rest followed. She was free—at least from the silver. The door was another matter. Timing. That was everything. When the guard turned the corridor, she lunged. He was too slow, too used to her being broken. Her elbow cracked into his temple. The keys clattered to the ground, and she grabbed them, heart thundering like a war drum. She ran barefoot through the corridors, silver burns flaring with each step. Alarm bells erupted behind her. Erin didn’t stop. Don’t look back. She crashed through the servants’ exit, flung herself into the woods, and didn’t stop until her lungs screamed for mercy. When she finally collapsed beneath a fallen tree, moonlight sliced through the canopy like a blade of judgment. Her body trembled, her eyes burned—but her heart... Her heart howled. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t done. She was still here. Still fighting. And the next time Alpha Kael saw her, he’d kneel. --- Miles away... In the heart of the Blackfang fortress, Alpha King Theron paused mid-step. He inhaled deeply. A scent. Familiar. Elusive. Wild and soft and wrongfully absent. His wolf surged, snapping against his control. He turned toward the balcony, golden eyes glowing. “Find her,” he growled. The scent was back. The one that haunted his dreams. The one that had vanished the night Soraya was named his mate. But Soraya’s scent never stirred his wolf like this. The true Luna was alive. And Theron would burn down every kingdom to find her.