Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

15. Claim

= Mikael =

“I hope you understand that once this is over—once your revenge is satisfied—you still won’t be free to simply walk away, Amara,” I said, keeping my voice steady, measured. There was no anger in it, only truth. I needed her to hear me, to truly grasp what she was choosing to step into. “Becoming the Luna of the Veyrath Pack isn’t a role you can put on and take off when it’s convenient.”

She fell quiet.

Not the sharp, defensive silence she usually wielded when she felt cornered, nor the restless one that came with barely contained fury. This was different. Still. Heavy. The kind of silence that meant she was listening, absorbing every word whether she wanted to or not.

“Our ways here are different,” I continued, my gaze never leaving her face. “If the Gravemire Pack can replace their Luna as easily as they change banners, the Veyrath cannot—and will not. We don’t trade Lunas like ceremonial ornaments or temporary symbols of power.” I took a slow step toward her, deliberately closing the space between us, ensuring the gravity of my words pressed down on her chest. “You don’t claim this position because it serves you in the moment. And you don’t abandon it the second it stops aligning with your personal vendetta.”

Her jaw clenched, tension rippling through her frame, but she said nothing. She didn’t argue. She didn’t flinch.

“Once you take on the role of Luna here, you don’t step out of it when things become inconvenient. You remain Luna until your Alpha dies—or until he is torn from his rank.”

The weight of the words settled between us, dense and unmoving, as though the air itself had thickened. Silence followed—deep, suffocating silence. The kind that presses against your ears and forces you to listen to everything else instead. I caught the faint, steady rhythm of her breathing, each inhale measured, each exhale controlled, as if she were holding herself together by sheer will alone.

I had braced myself for resistance.

I expected her to snap back with sharp words, to challenge me the way she had earlier—chin lifted, eyes blazing, defiance written into every line of her posture. I was prepared for anger, for refusal, for a battle of wills.

But it never came.

Amara remained still, her gaze dropping to the floor between us. Her fingers slowly tightened around the fabric of her sleeve, knuckles whitening as though the simple act of holding on was the only thing keeping her steady. She wasn’t trembling. She wasn’t afraid—not in the way most people were when faced with power they couldn’t escape.

And yet, she wasn’t calm either.

She looked like someone standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into the unknown—trying to decide whether the fall would shatter her completely or finally give her the freedom she’d been denied for so long.

“This isn’t a temporary alliance,” I continued, my voice firm, hoping the finality of it would be enough to unsettle her. To make her retreat. “It’s not a convenient arrangement that dissolves once your enemies are dealt with. There’s no expiration date, no quiet exit.”

I took a step closer, close enough that she couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear the truth in my words.

“It’s a bond,” I said. “One that ties you to me—and to this pack—in ways you can’t undo. Once you accept it, you don’t belong to yourself alone anymore.”

The words weren’t a threat.

They were a warning.

She let out a slow, measured breath, as though steadying something deep inside her, then lifted her head at last. When her eyes met mine, they were no longer clouded with hesitation. They were sharp. Clear. Grounded in a truth she could no longer avoid.

“So what you’re saying,” she said quietly, “is that if I choose this… there’s no turning back.” Her voice barely wavered. “Once I step into that role, it stops being a decision and starts being who I am.”

“Yes.” The answer came easily, without a trace of doubt. A faint, knowing curve tugged at my lips—not mockery, but certainty.

Her mouth opened as if a thousand thoughts were fighting to escape, then she stopped herself. The moment slipped away. She turned from me instead, crossing the room in restless strides before halting by the window. Morning light poured in, gilding the edges of her face, sharpening the angles of her cheekbones, catching in her lashes like something fragile and fleeting.

The silence returned, but this time it pressed down on us, dense and unyielding.

“If you’re unsure,” I said at last, breaking it, “say so now. I won’t force this on you. I won’t tie you to a fate you aren’t ready to carry.”

She gave a quiet, breathless laugh—one that held no humor at all. Her gaze stayed fixed on the world beyond the glass.

“You say that,” she murmured, “as if I still have a choice.”

I let a crooked smirk curve my lips. “You should be grateful I’m even offering you a few more days,” I said calmly. “Time to think. Time to understand what you’d be stepping into. This role isn’t just a title—it’s the pack, their expectations, the weight of tradition, and the sacrifices that come with it.” My gaze sharpened, the air between us tightening. “This isn’t something you accept on a whim.”

For a heartbeat, I genuinely believed she might take the offer. And if she did—f**k. Every plan I had carefully laid out would go straight to hell. This was supposed to be simple: reverse psychology. Push her to hesitate, make her feel the gravity of the choice, let doubt creep in. In the end, she would still agree to the deal. She would still become my Luna.

That was how it was meant to go.

So I waited for hesitation. For uncertainty. Maybe even relief at being granted an escape, however temporary.

Instead, she straightened her spine.

“I don’t need a few days.”

The words hit harder than I expected. Internally, I almost laughed in triumph when the meaning settled in. She had chosen. Still, I kept my face carved in ice, betraying nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you—”

“I’ve already made my decision,” she cut in, her voice steady, unyielding.

That stopped me cold.

She moved toward me then, each step deliberate, unshaken. The fear I had seen earlier was gone, stripped away and replaced by something far more dangerous—certainty. Her gaze didn’t waver as she met mine.

“I’ll be your Luna,” she said. “If the Veyrath Pack demands permanence, then I’ll give them permanence. I won’t step into this halfway.