Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

25. Describe

= Amara =

I didn’t realize how hungry I was until Mikael set the tray down in front of me.

The scent alone—warm bread, broth thick with herbs, something faintly sweet—made my stomach twist in on itself. Not painfully. Just enough to remind me that my body was still trying to survive..

“Slow,” Mikael said quietly, pulling the chair closer to the bed. “You’re still healing.”

I nodded, though my hands were already trembling as I reached for the cup he offered. He steadied it without comment, fingers warm around mine, grounding in a way I hadn’t known I needed. The cup held broth—simple, nourishing. Nothing sharp. Nothing overwhelming.

The room was bathed in early morning light, pale gold slipping through windows I didn’t remember being there before. This wasn’t my room. It was too large. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that came from thick stone walls and guards posted just outside.

And…safe.

At least, safer than I had been.

I took a careful sip. Heat spread through my chest, easing something tight I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.

Mikael watched me the way someone watches a fragile thing—not pitying, not hovering, but attentive.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” he said when I paused. “Just enough.”

“I want to,” I replied, surprised by the rasp in my voice. “I… want to…get revenge on my own.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. “Then eat.”

He tore a piece of bread in half and held it out to me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I hesitated for only a second before taking it. Our fingers brushed, and something flickered between us—brief, electric, and quickly buried beneath everything else.

I ate slowly. Every bite felt like an act of defiance. Like proof that they hadn’t broken me completely.

When the tray was half-empty and my hands finally stopped shaking, the silence returned.

It pressed in, heavier now.

Mikael leaned back in his chair. “So, tell me what happened.”

My throat tightened.

I nodded anyway.

“It started with a knock on your cabin’s door,” I said then glanced at the door as if that was the door. “I was waiting for you like usual. But then, I made a mistake thinking you got home early since you have some things to get here in your home.” I swallowed. I blinked a few times as I looked into his eyes.

“When I opened the door, a man told me that...you were looking for me. That you’d asked him to fetch me because you were tied up with council matters.”

Mikael’s hand curled slowly into a fist.

“I hesitated,” I admitted. “I asked where you were. He didn’t gave me a concrete reply but I trusted them since they have the mark of your pack.”

I let out a deep breath. “I believed them.”

The shame burned hotter than the memory itself.

“I followed him,” I went on. “Through the forest. I was asking them things, of course. And then—” My voice faltered a bit I forced myself to continue. “Then I noticed that we were taking a different route, from what I had remembered when it was the first time you brought me to your working place.”

I could still feel it—the sudden pressure behind my knees, the sharp sting at my neck, the world tilting violently sideways.

“Someone grabbed me,” I said softly. “From behind. I tried to scream, but something burned when it hit my skin. Like fire and ice at the same time.” I touched the place just below my jaw, where the mark had already faded but the sensation lingered. “After that… things go in and out.”

Mikael’s breathing changed. Slower. Controlled. Dangerous.

“I threatened them but they didn’t take my words seriously.” I whispered. “I was blindfolded so I didn’t really know where I was brought in. And I remembered voices I didn’t recognize.”

Mikael stood abruptly and crossed the room, stopping in front of the window as if he needed distance to keep himself contained. The light outlined him in sharp edges—power barely leashed beneath skin and bone.

“What did they look like?” he asked. His voice was steady, but there was something coiled beneath it.

I forced myself to focus. “They were all, broad-shouldered, dressed in black sleeveless clothes. Dark hair. One has a scar across his cheek. Not fresh. Old.” I closed my eyes, dragging the memory up from wherever I’d buried it. I tried to describe them even more and it took me a while before I finished.

Mikael turned slowly.

“I will find them,” Mikael said quietly.

I opened my eyes. “Mikael—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, leaning his back against the window. “They touched you. They hurt you. That is not something I forgive. This was a promise when we both agreed to this deal.”

His expression was dark and grim.

“I promised you safety and I will make sure you will have it,” he said.

I believed him.

That was the most terrifying part.

I took a shaky breath. “Thank you. For… believing me.”

“There was never a question,” he replied.

The room fell quiet again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It felt like a pause. Like the world holding its breath before something irreversible.

Mikael stood properly and started making his way toward the door. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll have the doctors check on you later.”

“And you?” I asked.

His eyes darkened, just slightly. “I’m going to make sure the people who did this never get the chance to live again.”

A chill ran down my spine—I could feel his rage radiating inside the room. And before I knew it, he was already out of my sight.