Alpha's Luna

Chapter Nine - The Morning After. Selene POV

I wake up with the sun already peeking through the thick curtains, its warm light spilling across my bed. My heart is light this morning, a little lighter than usual. The events of last night—the freedom I felt outside the walls of Ironfang, the laughter, the joy of being me, not some future Luna but just Selene—still linger in my chest.

I smile at the thought of it. The hill, the garden, the spring, the way it felt to step outside of the fortress and into the wilderness. I was alive out there. Unburdened.

Nobody saw me. Nobody found me. It felt like a secret, my own slice of freedom. And that thought, that small victory, makes me feel good inside.

I take my time getting ready, washing my face, brushing my hair. I’ve been stuck in Ironfang for days now, and the repetition of everything is starting to weigh on me. The same high walls. The same faces. The same routine. But for that one night, I was someone else. And it felt so good to be me.

After a quick rom-com routine, I make my way to the kitchen. I don’t bother with the maids this time—I’ve decided I’m taking charge. Today, I’ll help with the food. I’ve cooked for myself and Finn all our lives, and even if Ironfang has a whole army of cooks and chefs, I’m not above lending a hand. Besides, I can’t stand the bland food they’ve been serving me, all those small portions that feel like punishment. I should pile it up like the last time I cooked. I’ll make something for myself—and maybe a little something for Kaine.

I help supervise the preparations, watching as the maids scurry around, their faces full of worry. They’re scared I’m going to ruin everything, but honestly, I’m just here to make things a little less dreary. Perhaps they're scared I will scoop all the food to my plate like a mountain, and make them starve after the kitchen stress. Or maybe it’s a bit of my rebellion shining through. Or maybe I’m just trying to make my days a little more me.

Once the meal is prepared, I carry the trays with the maid, heading toward Kaine’s chambers. I know it’s probably absurd, bringing him food after last night. After everything. But there’s something about the way he dismissed me that still clings to my chest. I can’t help but feel a little... hurt.

We reach his door, and I pause before entering. I want to shake off the weird feeling, the sudden sadness that seems to be bubbling up. I take a deep breath and enter.

Inside, Kaine is sitting at his desk, his back to the door, his Beta standing beside him as they discuss something I can’t hear. I set the food down on a side table, the tray clinking lightly.

I clear my throat to get their attention.

Kaine doesn’t turn around right away. He’s looking at some maps, his posture stiff.

But the moment I speak, he straightens. His shoulders tense, and he slowly turns toward the window, avoiding my gaze completely.

For a moment, the room is silent. I feel the weight of his refusal to look at me, and something inside me twists, like I’ve stepped on a sharp stone hidden in the sand.

Kaine doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“Lord Kaine,” I try again, my voice stronger this time, “I brought your food.”

He doesn’t respond. I glance at his Beta, who doesn’t seem to care one way or the other. The man looks more interested in the map than in anything going on in the room.

I can feel it in the air—the tension, the silence, the awkwardness. It’s suffocating.

I try not to let the hurt show on my face. I can’t afford to. But it lingers in my chest, an ache I can’t ignore. It was almost easier when Kaine treated me like an obligation, like I was just another task to be completed. But this—this coldness—feels different. It feels personal.

I stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, I place my hands behind my back, forcing a smile.

“Should I leave?”

There’s no response.

Kaine’s Beta clears his throat, but he doesn’t make eye contact either.

I look back at Kaine, my heart sinking just a little more. Why is he acting like this? I’m just trying to be nice.

I wait for a response, but when none comes, I finally step back, disappointed.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” I murmur, turning to leave.

As I do, I hear Kaine’s voice, quiet but sharp.

“Everyone, leave.”

The Beta looks at him in confusion, but doesn’t protest. The maids quickly file out of the room, the door closing softly behind them. I’m left standing in the middle of the chamber with Kaine, a heavy silence between us.

Before I can leave, I hear him speak again.

“Selene.”

My name. His voice sounds so—distant. Cold, even.

I turn back to him, trying to mask the hurt. I don’t know why it stings, but it does. Maybe because I still don’t know where I stand with him. I don’t know if I’m his mate, his responsibility, or just another piece on the chessboard.

“Yes?” I ask, my voice quiet, almost tentative.

“Leave,” he says again. This time, his tone is flat, a command, and it makes my stomach drop.

I swallow hard. I nod.

“Understood, my Lord.”

I turn on my heel and walk out, my heart heavy.

Outside, the hall is quiet. My thoughts race. Why does he keep treating me like this? Was it something I did? Was it because of last night? I don’t get it.

I start walking faster, my steps quick and impatient. The walls of Ironfang feel closer today, like they’re pressing in on me. And then, suddenly, I think of Finn.

I stop for a moment, my breath catching.

I miss him.

I miss how everything used to be—how simple it was before I was dragged into this strange world. Before I was sold to Kaine.

I press my hand to my chest, as if I could stop the ache from spreading.

I walk faster now, my destination clear. I need to be alone for a moment. I need to gather myself.

I need to figure out what I’m going to do.

***Interlude***

The morning stretches long and heavy over Ironfang. The fortress breathes like an old beast, its stone walls holding centuries of whispers and blood.

On the southern grounds, where the dirt is marked by claw and blade, Selene stands alone. A bow rests in her hand, her hair pulled back from her face. She nocks an arrow, pulls the string taut, and lets it fly. The shaft cuts the air and lands with a clean thunk in the target’s heart.

Her lips curve, faintly, into a smile.

But she doesn’t stop there. The bow is traded for a wooden sword. Her stance shifts—light, precise. She moves across the training ground with unexpected grace, slashing at the dummies, her movements sharp, controlled, defiant.

It is here, in this moment, that the elders of Ironfang see her.

They are an austere procession—gray cloaks heavy on their shoulders, golden sigils gleaming on their chests, steps echoing against the ancient stone path. Their journey is meant for the council hall where Kaine awaits them, but their eyes are snared by the sight of Selene.

One elder halts, lips curling. Another frowns so deeply the lines on his face seem carved in stone.

“An Omega,” one whispers, his tone laced with scorn. “An Omega with a weapon.”

“It is obscene,” another mutters. “Does she think herself a warrior?”

“She was not brought here for this,” hisses the eldest, his cane thudding against the ground. “She is meant for obedience, for hearth and womb. Not the field.”

Their voices rise and fall in clipped whispers, disgusted and fearful. A few avert their eyes as if the sight itself were blasphemy, while others linger, watching with thinly veiled contempt.

Selene pays them no mind. She does not hear. Her body is her answer to centuries of expectation. Each strike, each parry, is rebellion set to rhythm.

The elders hurry on, their cloaks swirling behind them like shadows, their murmurs gathering into a storm meant for Kaine.

The hall of Ironfang is vast, its pillars carved with wolves snarling in eternal vigil. At the head sits Kaine, broad-shouldered, storm-eyed, a warlord draped in command. His Beta stands nearby, sharp and steady, a silent second.

The elders file in, bowing stiffly.

Their visit begins as expected. Reports of boundary disputes. Murmurs of rival packs stirring unease. Discussions of trade, of food, of ancient laws etched into stone tablets. Kaine listens, his face carved from granite, speaking little but each word carrying the weight of command.

It is only when the matters seem concluded that one elder clears his throat, lingering on his cane as though summoning courage.

“My Alpha,” he begins, voice smooth but trembling beneath the surface. “There is… another matter. A delicate one.”

Kaine’s eyes flicker to him, sharp as lightning. “Speak.”

The elder hesitates, then continues, his companions nodding in brittle agreement.

“It concerns… your Luna.”

The air in the hall tightens. Even the Beta glances sideways, wary.

Kaine leans back in his chair, expression unreadable. “What of her?”

The elder shifts, his voice lowering though the words sharpen with each syllable. “This morning, as we walked to these chambers, we passed the training grounds. There we found her - your Luna, your bride - sparring with bow and blade like a soldier. It was… an unsettling sight.”

Another elder steps forward quickly, emboldened. “An Omega, my Alpha. An Omega with a weapon. The sight dishonors tradition. It shames the pact.”

“She is supposed to embody obedience,” a third adds. “Grace, submission, the virtues of Luna. Not this… display of rebellion.”

Whispers ripple between them, disgust cloaked in civility.

“She was not brought here to play warrior,” says the eldest, cane striking the stone. “She was given to you as a contract moon veil, nothing more. A bond forged to strengthen ties, not to loosen them. Her blood is powerless. She is not fit to stand on your field.”

Each word falls heavy in the hall, a stone dropped into silence.

Kaine listens. His jaw works once, a muscle ticking along the line of his cheek. His eyes burn, unreadable storms that shift like steel under pressure.

For a heartbeat, no one breathes.

Then he speaks.

“Enough.”

The word cuts, sharp and final, like a blade against bone.

The elders flinch. A few step back. Even the Beta straightens, cautious.

Kaine rises from his chair. His height is towering, his presence filling the hall like thunder fills a sky. His eyes blaze—not just anger, but something deeper, primal, dangerous.

“You forget yourselves,” he says, voice low but thrumming with power. “She is my Luna. Mine. And as such, her will is her own.”

The eldest sputters. “But my Alpha—”

“She is free,” Kaine interrupts, stepping down from the dais, each footfall echoing. “Free to walk the grounds. Free to wield a blade. Free to use the training field when it lies empty. If her hands seek strength, then strength she shall have.”

The elders exchange frantic looks, color draining from their faces.

“But she is—” one dares begin.

“She is mine,” Kaine roars, and the force of it shakes the very air. His wolf rises in his tone, a growl laced beneath each syllable. His eyes blaze silver, feral and unyielding.

The elders shrink back, fear creeping into their postures. For all their authority, all their years, they are but old men before the storm of a young Alpha carved by war.

Kaine takes another step forward, his presence suffocating. “Speak one more word against her, and you will answer to me. Not as elders. Not as council. As prey.”

The hall is silent save for the pounding of hearts.

The elders bow, stiff, their voices trembling with forced humility. “As you say, Alpha.”

Kaine glares at them one by one, searing the memory into their bones. Only when they lower their eyes fully does he turn away, shoulders still taut with fury.

The meeting is ended.

The elders retreat quickly, cloaks sweeping, whispers swallowed by fear. Outside, their faces are pale, their eyes darting as though Kaine’s gaze still clings to them.

Inside, Kaine stands alone, his chest rising and falling, his fists curling. His fury simmers, but beneath it lies something else—something he does not speak aloud.

Pride.

For the image of Selene, bow in hand, sword flashing in the morning sun, will not leave him.