Chasing His Multi-identity Luna

5

Grace

As my ancient, bulky laptop chugged to life—fortified with enough encryption to make Starlight Pack’s cyber unit weep—I felt Sia stir, her voice a low murmur in the back of my mind. ’They underestimate what we can do with a few wires and a lot of spite’.

Three keystrokes later, a grainy video feed flickered on.

Matthew stood on a sunlit street, palm trees swaying behind him, a medical bag slung over one shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips. Sharp features—almost too pretty for a man—high cheekbones, a mouth made for smirks, eyes that saw too much. I only know that he is a doctor, and he only knows that I am a hacker. We have a life-and-death bond, yet we have never met. He doesn’t even know whether I’m male or female, or how old I am.

“Someone’s looking into you,” I said, pouring tea from a ceramic pot I’d swiped from the kitchen. The steam carried a faint whiff of jasmine—Emma’s scent, cloying and artificial. I wrinkled my nose and dumped three sugars into the mug. ’Perfume for people afraid to smell like themselves’, Sia sneered.

Matthew arched a brow but didn’t miss a beat. “Starlight Pack,” he said, pulling out another phone to check his email—probably the dossier I’d sent. “How deep?”

“Deep enough to ping your last three locations: Romania, Serbia, Bulgaria.” I tapped a key, and his feed sharpened, revealing the faint outline of a Starlight insignia on a distant billboard. “They’re tracking your work with the vampire attack victims. They don’t like outsiders meddling in pack business.”

He snorted, smoke curling from his lips. “Tell that to the Romanian Beta whose daughter I saved. Anyway, kid, don’t worry about me. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I rolled my eyes, but concern gnawed at me. Matthew was a drifter, but he had a habit of sticking his neck out for the broken and the forgotten—just like me. ’He’s a good man’, Sia noted, ’for a human’.

“You’re underestimating them. Starlight’s cyber division is top-tier. They’ve been developing a new AI that can—”

“—trace encrypted signals across three continents? Yeah, I know.” He grinned, unapologetic. “But they don’t have you, do they? The mysterious hacker who took down their border satellite last month.”

I froze, tea halfway to my lips. Sia’s presence spiked, alert. ’Careful, Gracie’.

That incident had been a fluke—sort of. Seven Starlight envoys vanished in a rival pack’s territory, and when their government stonewalled, I’d hacked their military satellite to locate survivors. Left a single marker: a simple “G” in the code. Since then, the werewolf dark web had exploded with theories about “G”—the hacker who’d humiliated one of the most powerful packs in the Alliance.

Matthew didn’t know it was me. No one did.

“G’s a legend,” he said, oblivious to my silence, “but legends get hunted. You’re too young to get caught in that crossfire, Grace. Stick to small fries, yeah?”

I stared at him, weighing whether to confess. In the end, I stayed silent. Some secrets were safer buried—especially when they could get you killed.

“Anyway,” he said, switching phones, “I’ve got a clinic to set up. Rumor is vampires are targeting medics now. Guess I’m a prime target.”

“Matthew—”

“Relax, kid. I’ve got friends in low places.” He winked, then softened. “But seriously—watch your back. If Starlight’s sniffing around me, they might trace it to you. And if they find out you’re human—”

“I’m not human,” I snapped too quickly.

He raised a brow but didn’t press. That was Matthew—he saw the cracks in people but never pried. “Right. You’re a wolf in… what, a hacker’s den?” He chuckled, then grew serious. “Just be careful, Grace. The world’s getting meaner out there.”

The call ended with a click, leaving me alone with the hum of my laptop. I stared at the blank screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Without thinking, I typed a single letter: G.

The cursor blinked back, taunting. Sia’s voice was a low growl in my mind. ’Let them come. They’ll learn what happens when you corner something they can’t understand’.

I shut the laptop, plunging the room into darkness. Outside, Emma’s violin started again—notes precise but hollow, like a corpse wearing a prom dress. Down the hall, Davis’s door slammed, his scent—smoke and cedar—lingering like a question mark.

Somewhere, a wolf howled.

This time, I didn’t wonder if I could answer.

I knew I could.

Just not in the way they expected.