Alpha Duncan’s Luna is a Witch

Cracks in her Revenge?

Night fell over the Blood-Moon pack, but Hazel couldn't sleep. The guest wing was quiet, yet the air felt heavy. She slipped out of her room, her feet silent on the cold stone floor. She needed to scout the house, but as she passed the Alpha’s private study, the sound of raised voices stopped her.

She pressed her ear against the heavy wood.

"The Council is losing patience, Duncan!" a man shouted. It was the Beta, Silas. "The pack is weak. We haven't expanded in ten years. They say you’ve turned soft because you’re still haunted by that witch!"

“That witch didn't seem to leave us.”

"Watch your tongue, Silas," Duncan’s voice growled, sounding exhausted. "The coven is gone. The threat is gone. Is that not what you wanted?"

"It’s what the Pack needed," Silas hissed. "But you... you sit in this room staring at her portrait like a man possessed. You should have married a high-born wolf years ago."

"I will not replace her," Duncan roared, followed by the sound of glass shattering against a wall. "Now get out!"

Hazel shrank into the shadows as Silas stormed out. Through the slightly ajar door, she caught a glimpse of Duncan. He wasn't the terrifying Alpha she remembered. He was slumped in a chair, holding a tattered piece of blue fabric—a scrap of the dress she had worn the night of the fire.

He looked broken. Just what is happening? He got rid of her like they a wanted and now here he is…

‘Is this an act?’ Hazel wondered, her chest tightening. ‘How can a murderer mourn his victim?’

She moved away, heading toward the library. She needed to find the old records of the "Purge." If she was going to burn this place, she wanted to see the official report of her people's death.

She found the scroll marked ‘Coven Annexation.’ As she scanned the lines, her blood ran cold.

“Order of Execution: Signed by the Council of Elders. Executioner: Beta Silas.”

Hazel’s breath caught. Duncan had ordered it... hadn't he? But the record said Silas led the attack. And there was a second note, scribbled in the margin: “Prisoners moved to the North Mines before the fire.”

Her heart hammered. Prisoners moved? Did some of her sisters survive? Was the fire just a cover-up that Duncan didn't fully control?

She had to see her sons. If anyone knew the truth, it might be hidden in the nursery records or the boys' memories.

She slipped into the nursery, the moonlight casting long shadows over the sleeping twins. She leaned over Aidan, her hand trembling as she reached out to brush his hair.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Suddenly, the door behind her creaked. Hazel spun around, her fire magic sparking at her fingertips, but she forced it down.

Duncan was standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the moonlight caught the jagged scars across his chest. Before she could speak, he blurred across the room with his werewolf speed.

He slammed her against the wall, his hand pinning her by the waist while the other gripped the stone next to her head. He was so close she could feel the frantic beat of his heart.

"What are you doing in here?" he hissed, his eyes glowing a dangerous, predatory gold.

"I... I heard a noise. I came to check on the boys," Hazel stammered, trying to keep her "Selah" identity.

Duncan leaned in, his nose brushing against her neck. He took a deep, shaky breath. "You lie. You don't smell like a nanny. You smell like the woman I killed. You smell like the only person I ever loved."

His hand moved from the wall to her throat—not to squeeze, but to tilt her head back. His thumb traced her lower lip, his gaze burning with a mix of hatred and agonizing desire.

"Tell me the truth," Duncan growled, his voice vibrating against her skin. "Who are you really? Because if you’re a ghost, I’m ready to join you in the dark."

Hazel felt the rough stone of the wall against her back and the searing heat of Duncan’s body pressing into hers. Her heart was a trapped bird in her chest, but she forced her expression to remain cold.

"You’re hurting me, Alpha," she whispered, her voice trembling—not with fear, but with the effort of not incinerating him where he stood.

Duncan didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him. His golden eyes were searching hers, desperate and wild.

"The eyes are different," he muttered, his voice breaking. "Hazel’s were the color of the morning sky. Yours... yours look like they’ve seen the pits of hell."

"Maybe because I have," Hazel snapped, her anger finally slipping through the mask.

Duncan flinched as if she’d slapped him. He let go of her throat, but he didn't move back. He looked down at her, his face a mask of agony. "Every night for ten years, I have smelled that smoke. Every night, I see her face in the flames. And now you walk into my home with her scent and her walk..."

"If you loved her so much," Hazel hissed, her voice low so as not to wake the children, "then why did you let her burn? Why did you order the execution of her people?"

Hazel’s hands stayed at her sides, though they itched to touch the scars on his back. She had spent a decade building a wall of hate, and he was taking a sledgehammer to it with a few sentences.

“I burned those witches to save my people."

‘He’s lying,’ she told herself. ‘He has to be lying.’

"Get off me," she said firmly, pushing against his chest.

Duncan stepped back, the Alpha command in his eyes replaced by a dull, aching exhaustion. He wiped a hand over his face and looked at the sleeping twins.

"I don't know who sent you, Selah," he said, his voice returning to a cold, distant tone. "But stay away from my past. Do your job. Care for my sons. If you try to dig into things you don't understand, you’ll find that I can still be the monster the world thinks I am."

He turned and walked out of the nursery, leaving the door swinging slightly behind him.

Hazel stood in the dark, her breath coming in short gasps. She looked at Aidan and Liam, then at the door where Duncan had disappeared.

She had come here to burn the pack to the ground. But if Duncan hadn't started the fire back then and keep to his words... they won’t be here today. And if her people were moved to the mines, were they still alive, suffering in the dark while she practiced magic in the mountains?

She realized then that her revenge was no longer a simple straight line. It was a web of lies, and she was right in the center of it.

"I'll find out the truth," she whispered to the moonlight. "And then, I'll decide who stays in the fire this time around."