Kill The Luna

14

Michael's expression didn't even flicker. He remained completely still, his eyes fixed forward on the stadium floor as if he hadn't just heard a ghost story. "Are you scared of him seeing you?" he murmured, the words dropping slowly from his lips, his voice perfectly level.

"Yes," I blurted out, the sharp reply slipping past my lips before I could stop it. I instantly dropped my chin, staring fixedly at my trembling hands in my lap, unable to hold his gaze.

A soft, low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and a confident smile touched the corners of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, his broad shoulders expanding. "Don't underestimate me," he whispered, a dangerous edge of absolute certainty in his tone. "Nothing will happen to you as long as I am sitting right here beside you."

I kept my eyes down, my fingers gripping the fabric of my dress. "I know," I breathed, my voice barely audible over the distant murmurs of the crowd. "But I don't want him to know I'm alive. I know Stefan. He is completely crazy. He will never stop searching until he gets his hands on me again. He might not be stupid enough to fight you directly, but he will find a dark way to kidnap me when you aren't looking. So please... hide me, or just take me away from here."

Michael shifted his weight in the plush chair, clearing a space beside him. "Fine. Come here," he instructed, his tone shifting into something softer but commanding.

I didn't hesitate. I lowered my body, bringing my head down into the small space between us until I could rest my cheek firmly against his leg. The warmth of his muscle seeped through his trousers, providing a strange anchor against my panic. Michael reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a clean, dark handkerchief. With a slow, deliberate movement of his large hand, he draped the cloth gently over my exposed face, blocking out the bright stadium lights and the terrifying view of the crowd.

Buried under the dark fabric, I finally let out a long, shaky breath, my shoulders dropping as the air filled my lungs. I honestly didn't know what had possessed me to confess my deepest terror to him, but a wave of relief washed through me anyway. I was just glad the truth was out. Part of me wondered if he might actually turn out to be a better person than Stefan ever was. But another, darker part of my mind screamed a warning; from all the terrifying stories I had heard about the Lycan King, this sudden kindness felt too good to be true. Was he just putting on a show? Did he have his own hidden intentions for keeping me safe? Ella's parting words began to ring through my head like a warning bell, echoing over and over: *Be careful of the Alpha.*

I bit the inside of my cheek, staring into the darkness of the cloth. I could only pray that he would keep this protective energy alive. I hadn't landed in his territory by choice; I was a prisoner of circumstance. If he eventually shed this nice skin and started behaving exactly like Stefan, then I knew I was done for good. There would be no escaping a second time.

I had already learned the hardest lesson a girl could learn: never trust a man's sweet words. Stefan had been absolute perfection to me in the very beginning. He had showered me with affection and made me feel like the center of his universe. But the very second he felt completely sure that I had fallen helplessly in love with him, his entire character flipped. It was like he instantly grew to hate my presence. The nice guy mask he wore had been ripped off because he knew he finally owned me. He had used me to satisfy his own will, and once the thrill was gone, he realized he could treat me like absolute garbage. And the worst part was, I had let him, because I didn't love myself enough and was too terrified of losing him.

An old proverb my grandmother used to quote flashed across my mind: *Character runs deep in the blood.* If Stefan was capable of such monstrous cruelty, then his older brother-the legendary Lycan King-was probably capable of things much worse.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight under the handkerchief, making a solemn vow to myself. *Make yourself a promise, Fedora,* I thought fiercely, using my own name to anchor my resolve. *Promise that no matter how nice Michael is to you, no matter how much he protects you or treats you like glass, you will never fall in love with him. Promise that you will never let your heart fall in love ever again. If you do, you are just setting yourself up for an even bigger heartbreak.*

Down below on the concrete stage, the heavy thumping of the microphone drew my attention back to reality. The organizer looked around the quiet stands, his hands placed flat on his hips. "Does anyone else have anything left to add to this matter?" he called out into the massive space.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air from the center rows. It traveled up the tiers of seats, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. It was a voice I knew too well, a voice that had haunted my worst nightmares. Stefan.

"Actually, this doesn't really relate to the main purpose of this meeting," Stefan called out, his tone casual and completely arrogant as he stood up among the other leaders. "But I am currently looking for a missing girl."