Alpha and the Cursed Mate

Chapter 2 : Premeditated Murder

The kitchen door swung open loudly, startling Moira. The stone bounced off the floor, instantly dimming its light.

Trystin stood in the doorway with his chin raised haughtily, like a queen who had just dismissed a useless servant.

"Oh my God, did you drop something again?" Disgust slipped out of his mouth. "You never change."

Moira quickly bent down and grabbed the Moonstone Heart, which was still warm in her palm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Of course you didn't mean to. It seems like you don't even breathe on purpose." Trystin walked in, her heels tapping on the floor with each step, like whips on Moira's back.

Moira stood up straight, but kept her head bowed. "What do you want?"

"You can start by not being so pathetic." Trystin slid two fingers under Moira's chin. "Look at your eyes. They're red. Have you been crying?"

Moira shook her head slowly.

"Ah, right. You're weak."

Moira bit her lip. "I'm just tired."

"Tired of living as Olivian's wife?" Trystin leaned forward, his voice low but piercing. "You know he doesn't want you."

Moira didn't answer.

“Do you think he cared when you were sick? Or when you waited all night? No, he's with me willingly."

Moira's chin trembled. "Enough. Don't continue."

"Why not? It's the truth." Trystin chuckled coldly. "One more thing: he hates that stupid expression of yours." His gaze fell on the Moonstone Heart. "Hand over that precious thing. You don't deserve to have it."

Moira hugged the stone to her chest. "It's important to me."

"Nothing in your life is important, Moira. Not even you."

The words pierced her heart, stopping her breath for a moment.

She turned her face away, holding back her tears.

Trystin patted her hand. "Good. Stay quiet like that. The world will be more peaceful if you're not here."

The woman turned and walked away, slamming the door shut loudly.

***

The next night:

The sky was overcast as Moira got into the car prepared by the Dunne family.

Her brunette hair fell beautifully, and she wore a long, cream-colored coat. Her face was pale, but her hazel eyes sparkled.

"Take me to the National Museum," she said briefly to the driver.

The car drove slowly through the busy city streets.

Moira stared out the window, but her mind was racing. "Moonstone Heart."

Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes. Moira bounced forward.

“What’s going on?” she cried.

The driver turned around; his face was suddenly pale. "Ma'am, there seems to be something in the road—"

Before he could finish, the car window shattered. Two masked men forced open the back door and grabbed Moira.

"Let me go! Help! Help!"

Rough hands covered her mouth with a wet cloth. The world spun. Her breath caught. Her consciousness blurred. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.

Moira fell onto the gravelly ground, her body weak and helpless.

A masked man approached and grabbed her hair roughly. “Are you awake?”

Moira groaned loudly, blood flowing from the corner of her mouth. "Who are you?"

"None of your business," the second man replied, pulling out a long iron bar. "You only need to know one thing: We're being paid a lot for this."

"No! What did I do wrong?"

"Shut up!" the first man snapped, kicking Moira in the stomach.

Her body writhed in pain. Her voice was cut off. Fresh blood spurted from her mouth.

"You cheap woman! Your husband doesn't want you, but you act like you're pure."

Moira closed her eyes. "Olivian, it's impossible."

The second man laughed softly. "Still defending him? Are you stupid, or do you just love that man too much?"

The next blow came. The iron struck her shoulder. The sound of her bones cracking was clear. Moira screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the silent forest.

"Noisy," snorted the first man. He gagged her with a cloth.

The second man leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Miss Tristyn wants you dead. Your husband only agreed to the plan. Besides, what's the point of keeping a woman who brings no profit?"

Moira's tears fell. She could no longer distinguish between the pain in her body and the pain in her heart.

"Hit her again! Make sure nothing is missed!"

"With pleasure."

The iron swung again. This time, it hit her back. Moira writhed, her body convulsing. The world began to darken.

***

On the other side of town, the National Museum's exhibition hall was filled with elite individuals.

A collection of antiques from around the world was displayed in luxurious glass cases under spotlights.

The east corner of the hall was quieter than the crowded center.

However, it was there that an important conversation was taking place. A small, round table was placed near a large glass window with a panoramic view of the city lights at night.

The Moonstone Heart was elegantly displayed only a dozen steps away.

Olivian Dunne sat cross-legged with one hand holding a glass of wine and the other resting on his knee.

Next to him sat Tristyn Clancy, who looked elegant in a black velvet dress. She touched the man's arm affectionately.

In front of them sat a middle-aged man in formal attire—a collector from Switzerland with an interested look on his face.

"This is the first time I've seen such a unique item," the collector said calmly. "The Moonstone Heart is the symbol of the Moon Goddess's love for lovers."

Olivian responded with a small smile. "It's not just a symbol. That luxurious pendant is a family heirloom. It has been in our private collection for more than two decades."

Tristyn tucked her hair behind her ear and added softly, "It has never been shown to the public until tonight."

The collector nodded slowly. "Interesting. May I ask if the item has its own legend?"

Olivian chuckled. “I don’t know. All we know is that, according to legend, the stone was crafted based on the myth of the Moon Goddess and the werewolves.” Of course, what makes it expensive is not just the fairy tale, but—"

"Its authenticity and energy," Tristyn quickly interrupted. “Don’t you feel it? Since that thing was displayed, even the temperature in this room has changed.”

The Swiss man furrowed his brow. "Indeed, there is a strange feeling. It's as if we are all being watched."

Olivian leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I'm open to offers, But I won't sell it to just anyone."

"How much?"

Tristyn answered without hesitation. "Twenty million dollars. Cash. Within twenty-four hours."

The collector raised both eyebrows. "That's a high price."

"But it's worth it," Olivian interjected calmly. "That thing will never appear on the open market. We are certain that only certain people deserve to own it."

The collector stared at the statue standing a few steps away behind a tall glass case. He said nothing for a few seconds, just stared—as if mesmerized.

Meanwhile,

Adrian Quinn stood calmly in front of a glass case. Inside, the "Moonstone Heart" lay gracefully, as if asleep.

He narrowed his eyes and murmured, "This thing is calling me."

His assistant spoke softly at his side, "Mr. Quinn, would you like me to ask who the original owner is?"

"No need," Aidrian replied softly. "This thing belongs to no one. It's waiting for something."

His eyes stared intently. "And I feel like I've kept it waiting too long."

Suddenly, the ceramic floor shook slightly. The statue trembled softly. A faint cracking sound was heard.

A curator exclaimed, "What is that?"

The "Moonstone Heart" cracked, forming a wolf's head pattern in the center of the stone.

Aidrian stepped closer.

“Don’t touch it, sir!” the curator exclaimed in panic.

Before anyone could touch it, however, a white light emerged from the crack.

The light was subtle and almost invisible to the naked eye. It floated into the air like shapeless morning dew.

Aidrian fell silent. His breath caught in his throat.

“What’s happening?” he whispered.

No one saw the light leave the exhibition hall and shoot quickly into the sky, pierce the clouds, and fly toward the dark forest on the outskirts of the city.

"No! No!" Tristyn covered her mouth, her eyes wide. "The Moonstone Heart—"

"Impossible!" Olivian exclaimed, stepping quickly past the guests. "That thing can't be damaged!"

The Swiss collector followed with hurried steps. “Mr. Dunne, is this part of the show?”

Olivian approached the glass case, which was now partially open.

Several museum curators panicked, trying to close the display again. It was too late, though—the crack had spread, and small pieces began to fall off.

Aidrian Quinn stood still on the other side, his gaze fixed on the pieces of the object that slowly rolled onto the floor.

Olivian pointed sharply at the man. "You!"

Aidrian didn't move.

"You approached the 'Moonstone Heart' before anyone else! You stood near it! What were you doing?" Olivian exclaimed, drawing the attention of the guests.

Tristyn approached with a shrill voice, saying, "You must have tried to touch it! You caused all this!"

The Swiss collector frowned. “Does that mean the sale is canceled?”

Olivian turned quickly. "Of course it's canceled! This is major damage! Its value has plummeted. There's no way I can sell a broken item!"

"And I'm not paying twenty million dollars for a shard," the collector said coldly. He turned and left without looking back.

Olivian clenched his fists, then turned his gaze back to Adrian. "You have to take responsibility! This statue was destroyed because of you!"

Aidrian raised his eyebrows slowly. "I didn't touch anything.

"You stood too close. Your aura might have damaged it. Or maybe you used a tool! Whatever! I don't care! You have to pay for the damage!"

Tristyn chimed in. "Yes! Double the amount we offered! Forty million!"

Aidrian was silent for a moment. His eyes darkened as if he were holding back fire.

But what came out was only a calm voice.

"Thirty million dollars," he said softly.

Olivian snorted. "Thirty million?! Don’t be ridiculous—"

"I'll pay it tonight," Adrian cut in, expressionless. "Thirty million dollars. Cash. No negotiation.”

His assistant, standing nearby, was startled and about to speak. "Mr. Quinn, you—"

A nod from Adrian stopped him.

Then, the man turned to the museum curator. “Gather all the pieces of the ‘Moonstone Heart.’ Make sure nothing is left behind. I'll take it."

The curator looked confused. “But this belongs to the Dunne family.”

“I’m paying for it,” Adrian said flatly.

He turned and walked slowly down the now silent museum hallway. His steps were calm, yet the entire room felt tense behind him.

***

Meanwhile, in the middle of the forest, Moira's body was thrown onto the muddy ground like a sack. Blood flowed from her temple and the corner of her mouth.

"Hurry up and leave!" one of the kidnappers said flatly. "She won't be found."

"Make sure there are no traces left," the other replied.

They disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

In the darkening sky, a white light slowly descended, piercing Moira's motionless body.