Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

31. Brother

= Amara =

Tension had gripped the room like a living thing, suffocating and heavy.

The man…who appeared out of nowhere…looked dangerous. And not just because of his size or presence. He radiated unpredictability, a chaotic energy that made the hairs on my arms rise.

The pack’s chatter died in an instant, eyes snapping toward him. Whispers ran through the crowd like wildfire. Something was wrong, something forbidden.

And then his gaze found me.

It was mocking, searing, and somehow full of hatred I couldn’t understand. My pulse jumped; every instinct screamed at me to step back, but I rooted myself to the spot, my fists tightening at my sides.

“Look at this,” he slurred, swaying slightly. He seemed…drunk.

“An enemy and an outsider is allowed in the gathering but not me!” He staggered closer, dragging his wounded body to us. Deltas immediately surrounded the man. But the unknown intruder managed to push the three deltas that were about to hold him.

“You are really worthless, Mikael! How could you do this to me?” He tripped over his own words, swaying, and then caught himself on a chair, a hiss of pain escaping his lips.

“To my father?!” the man continued to scream. He was acting as if his purpose there was to really…ruin the gathering.

I couldn’t help but try to place him.

I froze, trying to place him. He didn’t look like anyone I knew, yet the way the pack seemed to stiffen at his arrival made it clear he belonged here. To them, at least. Not to me.

Who is he?

“I suppose you think you belong here?”

I blinked. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. Belong? I barely even knew this place, barely knew these people, and yet, the question hit me like a blade.

“I… I’m—” I started, but the words died before they left my lips.

He continued laughing, a sound that made my chest tighten. He took a step closer, and the pack around him seemed to shrink back, like they were waiting for something—like waiting for a fight. But I wasn’t sure if he was going to fight me, or if he simply wanted to destroy my composure.

“You,” he said, and I flinched as he gestured toward me, “little outsider. Thinking you can just waltz into a Veyrath gathering, thinking you have any right to be in our midst… Pathetic.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, a flush of embarrassment and fury mingled into one hot pulse. I opened my mouth to reply, to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. Every instinct screamed at me to retreat, but I had learned that running wasn’t always an option. Not here. Not now.

I recognized the same mocking tone from earlier—the one the pack members had used when they first saw me, when I had introduced myself. The same pattern of ridiculing, of belittling, of trying to strip me of any dignity before I could even take my place. And now, this man was taking it further, twisting it into a sharper, more personal attack.

“You look so… out of place,” he continued, pacing slowly toward me. Each step seemed deliberate, measured to intimidate. “Do you even know what you’re doing here? Or are you just a novelty? A joke for the rest of us to laugh at?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. The room felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in, the air thick with expectation and judgment. I had never felt so scrutinized in my life. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I tried to summon the courage to speak.

“Excuse me,” I managed, my voice shaking slightly, “I—”

But he cut me off with a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “No, don’t speak. You’ll just make it worse for yourself. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty like you—walking into our world with wide eyes and foolish hope. And they all crumble eventually.”

I wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t like those others. But even as I wanted to move, my body felt frozen in place. Part of me wanted to run, to escape the weight of his gaze, the weight of the tension he carried with him. Part of me wanted to fight, to tear him down with words sharp enough to cut.

And then I noticed Mikael.

He had appeared beside me almost silently, a quiet but unmistakable presence that shifted the room’s energy. The half-brother’s gaze flicked to him, narrowed, and suddenly, the mocking confidence that had radiated off him faltered slightly. The air between them was taut, charged, almost dangerous.

“Enough of this Gabriel,” Mikael said, voice low, deadly calm. “This woman will be the future Luna of the Veyratht. You will respect that.”

The man—Gabriel, let out a laugh again.

“You must be losing your mind, brother!”

My eyes widened a bit…

Because…brother?