Luna Mira’s POV
My room glowed with golden light as the sun sank beyond the horizon, washing my bedroom in shades of amber and blood-red.
I stood before the tall mirror, brushing my fingers over the embroidered collar of my ceremonial gown—midnight blue velvet threaded with silver crescent moons.
Each stitch shimmered with the aura of power I’d earned, fought for, bled for. My makeup was done by me, no one in the blasted pack could do it to perfection, not like me. No one could do anything like me. My reflection held no sign of weakness, no c***k in the mask. Only poise. Control. Purpose.
Just like how it has been for years.
And yet, beneath it all, something twisted in my chest. A nagging rage that wanted me to scream and destroy everything in sight. And it was all because of a sin
