His Moonlight Angel

The Joke Was Me!

“This is all your fault!”

Alpha Rowan’s voice thundered through the pack house like a whip.

“No— I… I didn’t! I didn’t do anything!” I stammered, backing away until my shoulders hit the cold wall.

He took a step toward me, eyes blazing, his aura heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs.

“You killed her!”

He raised his hand, and I threw my arms over my head, my small fingers trembling as tears blurred my vision.

“I didn’t do anything!” I sobbed, waiting for the impact that never came.

“I didn’t do anything!”

My scream ripped from my throat— and suddenly, I was no longer there.

I jolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Sweat clung to my skin, my heart beating wildly in my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I was still dreaming or awake. The shadows in my room seemed alive, creeping closer as the memory replayed behind my eyelids.

A shiver ran down my spine as I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to steady my breathing.

Just a nightmare… it was just another nightmare.

But they never stopped. Not since that day.

Every dream was different — sometimes I saw the rogue, sometimes I saw her eyes fade again — but it always ended the same way: with her dying and everyone blaming me.

I turned to the clock beside my bed. The red digits glared back at me. 3:00 a.m.

There was no point trying to sleep again. I lay back against the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, the silence pressing down on me.

The night was long.

And sleep… was no longer my friend.

When the clock finally hit five, I shut off the alarm before it could ring and startle me again. Sleep had been useless anyway.

I dragged myself out of bed and began my morning routine — quick shower, brush my teeth, pull my hair back, pretend I was just another normal pack member. Then I headed downstairs to start breakfast.

The pack house would soon come alive with footsteps and voices — people rushing to school, training, or work. Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone except me.

I wasn’t allowed to go to school. The Alpha said it was a waste of resources.

So I taught myself.

Whenever I got the chance, I’d sneak into the pack library. I’d spend hours buried in books, whispering the words to myself until they made sense. That’s how I learned to read. That’s how I taught myself everything I know.

It wasn’t easy — especially when everyone around me looked at me like I was something they’d rather scrape off their shoes. But I managed. Somehow, I always managed.

My room was in the attic — small, dusty, and drafty, but at least it was away from everyone else. That tiny space was the only corner of the world that actually felt like mine.

As for clothes… well, let’s just say the pack’s trash was my fashion store. Whenever someone threw something out, I was there to rescue it.

I looked down at my worn-out jeans and faded T-shirt, then let out a dry laugh.

“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath, “my life’s just perfect.”

I made bacon, eggs, and toast for everyone. The smell filled the kitchen, warm and buttery, but it didn’t make me hungry. I was used to waiting until everyone had eaten. Whatever scraps were left became my breakfast—if there were any. Still, I never complained. I’d learned long ago that complaining only made things worse.

“Clean it up,” Daisy ordered, her tone sharp enough to slice through the air.

I turned to see her standing there, one manicured hand holding a half-empty glass of juice. She smirked before deliberately tipping it over, the bright liquid splashing across the floor.

I swallowed hard, grabbed the mop, and began cleaning. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear—at least, that’s what I told myself—but from exhaustion. Just as I finished wiping up the first spill, she tipped the glass again.

And again.

I cleaned it each time, silent. That was how you survived here—by keeping your mouth shut.

Daisy watched me, arms folded, clearly amused. She was one of the most popular girls in the pack house. Beautiful, confident, and cruel. Her dark hair shimmered under the morning light, and her laughter could make boys turn their heads. But underneath all that charm was venom.

She wasn’t just mean to me—she was mean to everyone. But since she was dating the Alpha’s son, she thought she ruled the place. And honestly, she kind of did.

I straightened up after mopping the last spill and forced a small smile. “Done.”

She gave me a dismissive look. “Good. Try not to mess it up again, loser.”

And with that, she laughed rhetorically. Her laughter echoing through the hall like it owned the walls.

“Pathetic,” she sneered, before throwing the rest of her juice right in my face.

The sticky liquid dripped down my cheeks and into my shirt. My whole body froze for a second. I could feel everyone in the room watching, waiting to see if I’d react.

Can you guess what I did next?

Of course, I didn’t say a word. I just grabbed a rag and started cleaning the floor again. The sweet smell of the juice clung to my skin, and my clothes stuck uncomfortably to my body, but I didn’t care. I wanted the kitchen spotless before anyone found another reason to yell at me.

After everyone had finished their breakfast and left, I wiped down the counters one last time, stacked the dishes neatly, and finally slipped away.

My “room” like I said was nothing more than a small corner in the attic—dusty, cramped, and cold in the mornings—but it was the only place in the world that felt remotely mine.

I took a quick shower with the leftover warm water, then pulled on a pair of old baggy jeans and a faded T-shirt. My worn-out canvas shoes had holes near the toes, but they still worked. I tied my long, dark brown hair—one of the few things I actually liked about myself—into a messy bun.

The pack house was already buzzing with voices when I slipped outside. The crisp morning air hit my face, and for a moment, I could almost breathe freely.

The library was my escape. My sanctuary.

When I got there, I headed straight for the farthest corner, the one where the lights were dim and no one ever bothered to look. Away from all the scrutinizing eyes and whispered insults.

I ran my fingers along the spines of the books until I found one that called to me. Then I sat down, curled up by the window, and began to read—losing myself in a world where people weren’t cruel, and girls like me could be anything.

This was how most of my days went—quiet, invisible, hidden behind stacks of old books. I liked it that way. The silence didn’t judge me.

I was halfway through the third chapter when I heard the scrape of a chair dragging across the floor in front of me. The sound made me flinch.

Slowly, I looked up—and froze.

Khan.

My brother’s best friend. The future Beta of the pack. The boy I’d secretly admired for as long as I could remember.

He looked effortlessly perfect, as always—his sandy blond hair slightly tousled, silver eyes gleaming like moonlight, a straight nose, a sharp jawline, and that confident aura that made everyone turn when he entered a room. The kind of boy every girl wished would notice her.

I quickly lowered my gaze back to my book, pretending to read, though the words had stopped making sense. My heart was beating far too loudly.

“What are you reading?”

My head snapped up before I could stop myself. He was smiling at me—smiling. I glanced around, half-convinced he was talking to someone else. But no, his eyes were locked on me.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you," he said, still smiling at me.

“I—uh… nothing, just… reading,” I mumbled, trying to sound casual.

He chuckled softly, and that small sound nearly melted my composure. His smile deepened, revealing dimples so sharp they could cut glass.

“‘Nothing’ must be a very interesting book,” he teased, leaning forward slightly.

I bit my lip, trying to fight off the blush threatening to rise to my cheeks. “It’s… about ancient wolf myths,” I murmured. “Not that interesting.”

“Ancient wolf myths, huh?” He tilted his head, intrigued. “You don’t seem like the type to believe in old stories.”

“I like to read about things that make sense,” I replied quietly, eyes back on the page. “Even if they don’t exist anymore.”

His silver eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, studying me like he was seeing me for the first time. Then, with that same easy smile, he said, “You’re different, Akira Woods. I’ll give you that.”

My breath caught at the sound of my name leaving his lips. No one ever said it like that—softly, like it mattered.

“Cool,” he said, resting his hands on the table and leaning forward. The scent of pine and something faintly musky drifted toward me, making my pulse skip. “So, I heard tomorrow’s your birthday.”

My breath hitched. He knows my birthday?

“Y–yeah,” I stammered, feeling my cheeks heat under his steady gaze. It wasn’t helping that he was close enough for me to see the faint gold flecks in his silver eyes.

He smirked slightly. “So… what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh… nothing,” I replied quickly, embarrassed by how small my voice sounded. “I don’t really celebrate it.”

“Nothing?” He raised a brow. “That’s a crime.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping just enough to make my heart pound.

“How about I take you out… on a date?”

For a split second, I forgot how to breathe. The library faded away—the shelves, the musty scent of old paper, even the soft hum of whispers—all gone. It was just him and me.

“A—a date?” I echoed, blinking rapidly.

He grinned, the corner of his lips curving in that dangerously charming way that made every girl in the pack swoon. “Yeah. A date. Just you and me. What do you say, birthday girl?”

My heart hammered in my chest so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Was this really happening? Or was I about to wake up from another dream that wasn’t mine to have?

“I don’t know,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

“Come on, Akira,” he coaxed, flashing me that intoxicating smile that could melt any heart. “Go out with me. It’ll be fun.”

His eyes sparkled mischievously, and for a moment, I wanted to believe it. Believe that maybe—just maybe—someone actually saw me.

“Sure,” I said softly, my heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and disbelief.

The word had barely left my lips when a burst of laughter erupted beside us. I turned, startled, and saw two girls standing by the bookshelf—phones in hand, recording. Their laughter echoed through the quiet library, sharp and cruel.

My stomach dropped.

I looked back at Khan, searching his face for any sign that this wasn’t what it seemed—but the flicker of amusement dancing in his silver eyes said it all.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back his laughter, but then it came—an unrestrained chuckle that shattered the fragile hope blooming inside me.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said between laughs, his tone dripping with mockery. “Like I’d ever go out with a loser like you.”

The words hit harder than any blow I’d ever taken. My throat tightened. My vision blurred.

I quickly grabbed my things, trying to blink back the tears that betrayed me. “I—I’m sorry,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing.

As I rushed out of the library, their laughter followed me—loud, cruel, echoing through the halls like a cruel chant.

Each step I took away from them made my chest ache more.

By the time I reached the door, a few tears had already escaped, sliding down my cheeks like silent witnesses to a pain I’d learned to hide too well.