My Rouge Luna

Chapter 8

What in the Entire Fuck

Carlos’s P.O.V.

The weight of what I had just done slammed into me like a punch to the chest. My grip on Selma loosened, and I set her down gently. Her eyes glistened with a storm of hurt, rage, and confusion, but I couldn’t face that now. That wound would have to wait.

I had bigger problems.

If I turned back toward that stranger — that woman — and met her eyes again, I knew I’d be lost. She pulled at me in ways I couldn’t explain, a force as intoxicating as it was dangerous. But she had my brother, and nothing — not destiny, not fate, not even her — came before Xavier.

I forced my spine straight, squared my shoulders, and poured steel into my voice.

“Listen, ladies,” I growled through clenched teeth. “This doesn’t have to turn bloody. Release my brother, get those cursed silver chains off him, and we can sit down like civilized people. We’ll talk about your demands, why you came here, who the hell you are — all of it. But first, let. Him. Go.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. My wolf clawed inside me, begging to tear through my skin, but I held him back.

Finally, the one with the commanding presence — the stranger whose gaze threatened to shatter me — spoke.

“Aaliyah, let him up.”

The other woman snapped her head toward her, outrage twisting her features.

“What? Christa, are you insane? He’s our only leverage! The second I take those chains off, they’ll kill us. Absolutely not.”

Christa’s tone was quiet, sharp as a blade. “Aaliyah. Do what I said. If anyone dies in this room, it won’t be us.”

The sound of chains hitting stone rang like a death knell. The acrid stench of seared flesh filled the air as the silver burned into Javier’s skin. Only when I heard the last chain fall away did I turn.

With a nod, I motioned to Ricardo and Ramiro. They lifted Javier from the table, his weight sagging between them. Relief hit me when I saw his chest rising and falling.

“Take him to the car,” I ordered, my voice flat, dangerous. “I’ll finish this.”

That’s when Selma’s voice cut through, sharp and shrill.

“Carlos, what the f**k are you doing? Why aren’t we killing them? Why aren’t we leaving?” She clawed at my arm, nails digging into my skin. “Do you not hear me? They tried to kill your brother — and you’re standing here staring at her like she’s a goddess? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I heard every word, but it only made the air between us heavier. Selma’s touch felt wrong now, like poison against my skin. Being in the same room with her felt like betrayal to the woman before me. My wolf snarled, pulling me away from Selma, pushing me toward the stranger who had already claimed a part of me.

I looked Christa dead in the eyes. “So. Let’s talk.”

Her lips curved into a dangerous smile.

“Hello, handsome. My name is Christa. Until you walked into this room, my only purpose was to find you and kill you. And believe me, I’ve been hunting for a long, long time. I didn’t always know who I was searching for. But now?” Her voice dropped, lethal and certain. “Now I do. You’re mine.”

My chest tightened. “Christa, who the hell do you think I am? Who sent you to kill me?”

She closed the space between us, her steps deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Maybe this will help you.” Her words dripped with venom. “My name is Christa Marie Blanco. My father was Enrique Raul Blanco. And you—” her voice exploded into a roar, “—you killed my mother!”

Before I could react, she lunged.

The gunshot cracked like thunder. Selma had her weapon raised, her silver bullet ripping into Christa’s chest. She hit the floor hard, body convulsing as the poison surged through her blood before going still.

The doors slammed open. Ricardo, Ramiro, and a battered but defiant Javier stormed in. They seized the other two women, Aaliyah and Serenity, who fought with wild fury before being overpowered and knocked unconscious.

Three women — fierce, dangerous, mine — lay sprawled before me. My heart thundered, but my voice came cold, merciless.

“Get them in the car. Take them back to the compound. If one mark — one — is left on her—” I pointed at Christa’s motionless body, “—I’ll kill everyone in this room myself.”

The twins froze, wide-eyed. They had never heard me like this. But I was their Alpha, and they knew I meant every word.

Selma’s glare burned through me as I strode out, nearly running. I could feel her fury snapping at my heels. In her eyes, I had betrayed her — chosen a stranger over her. And in truth, I had.

But I didn’t care.

Christa Marie Blanco. The daughter of the old Alpha. The girl I thought had died alongside her mother. If she lived, what else had I been lied to about? Was her father still alive? And who the hell was setting me up for Luna Anna’s murder?

The questions circled me like wolves, teeth bared.Back at the compound, while I gave orders, Selma lingered. Her gaze stayed locked on Christa’s unconscious body as the twins carried her down to the cells.

Later, when the guards left her chained and still, Selma slipped inside. The metallic tang of silver filled the air. She crouched low, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she brushed a strand of Christa’s hair from her face.

The cells beneath the compound were cold, damp, and unforgiving. Christa lay chained, her body still weakened by silver. Aaliyah and Serenity stirred nearby, but it was Christa who drew all the attention — and the tension.

Carlos hadn’t come down yet. He was pacing upstairs, wrestling with questions that clawed at him. That gave Selma her opening.

She descended the stone steps slowly, her heels clicking like a countdown. When the guards moved to bow, she waved them off with an airy gesture.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said smoothly. “Our Alpha trusts me to… watch them.”

The guards hesitated but obeyed. Selma stepped into the cell block, eyes settling on Christa like a predator spotting prey.

“You’ve caused quite the storm, haven’t you?” Selma purred, crouching just outside the bars. “Carlos can’t take his eyes off you. It’s pathetic, really. But you should know — it won’t last. He always comes back to me.”

Christa’s voice was weak but steady. “He doesn’t belong to you.”

Selma chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweet girl, you think this is about belonging? No. This is about power. And in this house, I hold it. Carlos may not realize it yet, but every man here answers to me when he isn’t looking.”

Christa forced a faint smile despite the silver burning her skin. “Then you should be afraid.”

The words hung heavy in the air. For a moment, Selma’s mask cracked, fury flashing in her eyes. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a venomous hiss.

“You won’t survive here. I’ll make sure of it. And when Carlos watches you break, maybe then he’ll remember where his loyalty truly lies.”

Selma stood, smoothing her hair as if nothing had passed between them. When she turned to leave, her expression was serene, almost saintly — the image of a devoted mate supporting her Alpha.

But Christa knew better.

So did the shadows.