Chasing His Multi-identity Luna

6

Brian's POV

The hum of the infirmary’s fluorescent lights grated on my nerves—soft, sterile, painfully human. I’d always hated bulbs like these. But here, in this godforsaken mid-tier pack’s “prestigious” academy, blending in was mandatory. So I lounged on the threadbare couch, eyes closed, trying to ignore the ache in my shoulders from three sleepless nights straight.

“Third girl this week with a botched shift,” Kevin muttered, sorting pills into tiny paper cups. His silver earrings glinted under the lights, a stark contrast to his otherwise professional demeanor. “Blue Moon’s training program is shit.”

I grunted in agreement, tracking the scent of burned ozone—tell-tale sign of a wolf forced to shift before her body was ready. “Their Beta’s more concerned with appearances than actual training.” James Brown’s face flashed in my mind: all polished smiles and empty promises, just like every other mid-tier leader clinging to relevance.

The girl stood, wincing as she shouldered her bag. I caught a whiff of her fear—acrid, overpowering—and something else: a faint, metallic tang of rebellion.

“Thanks, Dr. Thompson,” she mumbled, avoiding my gaze. Smart. Most wolves instinctively avoided direct eye contact with Alphas, even ones in disguise.

“Get some rest,” I said, my voice softer than usual. She nodded and fled, the door slamming behind her.

Kevin turned, eyebrow raised. “Since when do you care about bedside manner?”

“Since I started getting tired of cleaning up Blue Moon’s messes.” I sat up, stretching until my joints popped.

The door clicked shut. Kevin sighed, heavy with meaning. “Brian. It’s eight PM.”

I groaned, dragging a palm down my face. Sleep clung to me like syrup—thick, sticky, unwanted. When my eyes finally opened, the room swam into focus: Kevin’s irritated scowl, the neatly arranged medical supplies, the twilight casting long shadows over the academy lawns.

“Keys.” I flicked my wrist. The car keys sailed across the room. Kevin caught them with a huff; his wolf growled low at my laziness. Good. Let him be annoyed. Someone had to be.

I stretched until my spine cracked. My black shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up haphazardly, but it hid the worst of the exhaustion. My reflection in the window was a mess—unkempt hair, bloodshot eyes—but the lazy smirk that drove my sister nuts still tugged at my lips. Alpha of the most powerful pack in the Alliance, and here I was, playing school doctor. Fitting, in a twisted way.

“Let’s go.” My voice was rough from disuse. Kevin opened the door, ever the dutiful beta, but not before shooting me a sideways glance.

“How long have you been without sleep?”

“Does it matter?” I stepped into the cool evening air, inhaling the sharp scent of pine and distant campfire. Blue Moon Pack smelled like ambition—sharp, desperate, trying too hard. Not like Starlight, which smelled of ozone and victory.

Kevin didn’t answer, just unlocked the car—a sleek black Audi, low-profile enough to blend, powerful enough to outrun most threats. As we drove, my mind drifted back to the injured girl. Her wound was minor, but the way she flinched when I touched her… Humans, even half-shifted ones, always reacted the same to Alpha energy. Like they could sense the storm I kept locked inside.

“Are you investigating that hacker G?” Kevin broke the silence.

I tensed, but kept my face blank. G—the ghost who hacked our border satellite, the mystery making my sister’s cyber team see red. “What about it?”

Kevin shrugged, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Just… be careful. Starlight isn’t the only one interested. Rumor has it Blue Moon’s Beta has a personal stake in finding G.”

James Brown. I’d met the man once, years ago—all polish and no bite. “He’ll fail.”

Kevin glanced at me, amused. “Confident.”

“I should be. I trained the team he’s up against.”

The car slowed as we neared the Brown mansion. I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the shadowed windows. Somewhere inside, a girl with a scarred eyebrow and a mouth made for sarcasm was probably causing chaos.

“See something?” Kevin’s voice cut through the silence, amused.

I straightened, feigning indifference. “Just wondering how anyone can stand living in a mausoleum.”

Kevin snorted. “Liar. You were staring at the third-floor window. The one that reeks of wildfire and stubbornness.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I watched the mansion disappear in the rearview mirror, its scent fading into the night—all except for hers. Wildfire and old soap, sharp and unapologetic, like a brand on my senses.

Silence fell like a blade. My thoughts drifted.

August. One month ago.

The sun blazed over that tiny, nowhere town. Heat shimmered on the asphalt, rising like ghosts. I was tracking a rogue Gamma from the Blue Moon Pack. Routine assignment. Quick cleanup.

And then I saw her.

She leaned against the peeling frame of a second-floor clinic door, a picture of careless rebellion. Black-and-white checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up unevenly, collar slanted enough to flash a glimpse of collarbone. Low-rise jeans clung to her hips, frayed at the seams, riding low enough to reveal a strip of pale skin when she shifted.

Unbothered. Stunning. Wild.

A nurse handed her a lollipop and nodded toward a hospital room. “You sure you don’t want to go in, Gracie?”

She peeled the wrapper slowly, lashes casting shadows across her cheekbones. Her voice was flat. “Positive.”

Inside the room, voices erupted—familiar and furious. James Brown’s new mate, Amy and some man I didn’t recognize.

“…your turn to deal with her, Eric! I have a life in Star City now. Mia’s too old—she can’t raise a damn problem child!”

“Problem child? You’re the one who dumped her here! I’ve got a new family now, Amy. I can’t—”

Grace didn’t flinch. She leaned back against the wall, one knee bent, staring at the scuffed linoleum like it held all the answers. Her fingers toyed with the second button on her shirt—graceful, impatient—before she yanked it open with a snap. Another inch of bare skin. My breath caught, for no reason I cared to admit.

And then she turned.

Her eyes were ice, cutting through the heat, as if she could see right through the cheap sunglasses I’d slapped on for camouflage.

I held her stare, curious. Most wolves would’ve flinched, sensed the Alpha in me even in human form. But she just raised a brow, popped the lollipop into her mouth, and flipped me off.

Kevin cleared his throat, tone too casual. “Heard James Brown’s ex brought a kid home. Stepdaughter or something. Real piece of work, from what I’ve heard.”

I glanced at him, noncommittal. “Oh?”

“Name’s Grace Barton. Notorious rebel. Got expelled from her last school for starting a fight with a Gamma kid. Rumor is she doesn’t even have a wolf.” Kevin paused, smirk growing. “They call her the ‘problem child.’”

I smirked, unable to help myself. “Interesting.”

The Grace stepped out, shoulders squared, wearing the same damn attitude like armor. Her scent hit me full force—wildfire, now tinged with something darker, like smoke after a long-burning blaze.

“Interesting,” I said again, quieter this time.

Kevin sighed, starting the car. “You’re obsessed with chaos, you know that?”

I didn’t deny it. As we drove away, I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror until her figure vanished—a flicker of black and white, stubborn as ever, burned into my retinas.