The Alpha's Hidden Moon

Episode1

"Go down on your knees.

The order hit harder than the slap that followed.

My cheek burnt as I fell to the polished marble floor, one hand taking the brunt of my weight, the other instinctively covering my face. The silver tray I was carrying fell clattering at my side, the broken teacup spinning away across the room until it came to rest.

The dining hall was quiet.

Not that anyone was surprised.

Because there was no one.

The servants bowed their heads. My stepbrother leaned against the wall with a smirk on his face and my stepmother Marcy Voss looked down at me like I had stained the expensive carpet and not spilt a cup of tea. "I... I'm sorry," I whispered. "You should be," she replied coldly. “You know how much that tea set cost?”

I swallowed. “No.

"More than you ever were worth.

The words were more painful than the hit.

I looked down at the floor, knowing from experience that if I looked in her eyes, it would only bring me more punishment. "Every time you leave that attic, you embarrass this family," she continued. "What would our guests have thought if they had seen you?"

That I lived.

I could have laughed.

Almost.

Instead I gathered up the broken pieces of porcelain, my fingers trembling.

A razor-sharp edge cut my palm.

Blood spattered instantly.

I hissed quietly.

Marcy didn’t even flinch.

“Clean it,” she said, and turned away. Then return upstairs.

The talk was finished.

Just like that.

I wasn’t her child.

I was another mess she expected someone else to pick up.

When I got to the attic, the cut on my hand had stopped bleeding.

I pushed open the old wooden door and stepped into the only place that had ever been mine.

It wasn't a lot.

A narrow bed was under a cracked window. There was a small bookshelf against the wall, with the old novels people had discarded years ago. When the storms came, rain seeped through small holes in the roof, leaving dark stains on the floorboards.

Most people would have called it a wretched one.

For me...

It was silent.

No shouting.

No bullshit.

Nobody told me I was unwanted.

I sat down by the window and wrapped my hand in a clean cloth.

Outside the gardens ran away towards the forest, bright with the flowers of early summer. Behind them, the iron gates of the Voss Estate, guards changing shifts in the afternoon sun.

Sometimes I'd wonder what it was like outside those gates.

Did they laugh together?

Did daughters have dinner with their families?

Did anyone wake up every morning thinking they belonged somewhere?

A knock broke my reverie.

Three soft taps.

There was just one knock like that. "Come in.

The door opened just enough for Mira to slip in.

She brought a tray with fresh bread, soup and a little apple. 'You have not had breakfast.

I couldn't help smiling. "You'll get in trouble.

She shrugged. "I've been in trouble before.

Mira was no older than I, only a year, one of the youngest of the servants in the manor. She wasn't meant to bring me extra food, but she always did.

She set the tray on the table before she saw the cloth around my hand. "What happened?" "Nothing."

She sighed. “It was Lady Marcy again.”

I looked away. "You don't need to answer.

Her silence told me she knew already.

She sat down beside me and passed me the apple. "I heard something." "What?"

(“Tomorrow there are coming important guests”.)

I frowned. “We have guests all the time.

Not like these.

Her voice lowered. "The Ashthorne Pack."

The name made the quiet attic feel colder.

Every kid heard stories about them when they were growing up.

The most powerful werewolf pack.

The richest province.

The scariest alpha.

They said wars ended the moment Kael Ashthorne stepped onto the battlefield.

Some said he’d never lost a fight.

Nobody could agree on how much of the stories was true.

Only one thing stayed the same in every version.

Nobody wanted to stand up to him. 'What does he want here?' I asked.

Mira shook her head. 'I don't know.

She hesitated, then said, "The servants say your stepmother has been preparing for this visit for months.

"Why?" "I've heard rumours of an alliance."

A coalition.

Politics had never been my thing.

They were powerful people.

I didn't have no.

Mira stood up and dusted her skirt off. "I had better be going before someone notices I'm gone."

She arrived at the door and stopped. "Oh... and Lyra?" "Yes?

"'Tomorrow...

Her eyes softened. "...don't let them put you away again.

I forced a smile. "You know they're going to."

She did not argue.

Because she knew I was right.

That night he could not sleep.

The wind rattled the old window and the smell of rain came into the room.

I had one of my books open across my lap, but I hadn't turned a page in almost an hour.

There was... something...

Other.

There was a feeling of restlessness.

Even the forest around the estate was unnaturally quiet.

There were no birds.

No bugs.

Simple.

I closed my book and went to the window.

Clouds passed across the moon and the gardens were in darkness.

Then. Movement.

There was a figure at the front gate.

Tall.

All in black.

Too distant to see clearly.

I blinked.

The figure had vanished.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Maybe it was my imagination.

I turned my back to the window.

A loud knock came from downstairs.

Not on my door.

The front door of the house.

Voices in the corridor.

The doors swung open.

Footsteps pattered hurriedly along the marble floor below.

Someone yelled an order.

Then another one.

I went to the attic door, drawn by curiosity.

I cracked it open enough to hear.

“They’re here!”

The servants’ voices were full of excitement. “The Ashthorne Pack has come!”

I should’ve shut the door.

Or rather...

Quietly I crept into the hallway.

If I stood by the staircase I could get a little glimpse before they sent me back upstairs.

One.

I crept down the narrow hall, careful to avoid the loose board that always squeaked.

Below it was the great entrance.

Black cars were parked outside along the driveway.

But still dozens of guards were dead.

And the crowd divided.

A man walked through the front doors.

All was transformed.

The room seemed to contract about him.

He was not smiling.

he was not trying to impress anybody.

He strode along with the quiet confidence of a man who had never doubted his own strength.

His black coat swept the polished floor.

His golden eyes calmly scanned the room.

Everyone stopped talking.

All the servants bowed their heads.

Even my stepmother, who was always the alpha in this house...

She dropped her.

I had never seen fear so deferential.

I ought to have gone back up.

More like...

I made the mistake of looking him square in the face.

And then...

His eyes locked on mine.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

He stopped his walking.

His face was motionless.

But something passed over those golden eyes.

Surprise.

Perplexity.

Recognition.

And then before I could duck or hide…

He took one slow step toward the stairs.

Toward my person.

And he whispered so low that only I could hear, "...Impossible.”