Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

7: Cling

= Amara =

To be honest, I didn’t even understand why the words were spilling out of me. Maybe it was pride clawing its way to the surface. Maybe it was the anger I had buried so deeply it now demanded to be heard. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the last stubborn, desperate piece of me that refused to let my story be twisted into someone else’s villain narrative.

Because the moment he accused me of betraying my former pack, something inside me cracked. A fine, delicate fracture that split straight down the center of my chest.

And when I learned that Mikael, the Alpha of Veyrath himself, actually believed the lies… lies he must have plucked from whatever gutter they crawled out of—I felt my blood ignite. It simmered, boiled, sparked until every breath burned.

“I can’t forgive her. I can’t… f-forgive her.”

The confession scraped out of my throat, raw and trembling, each word sharp enough to cut. I didn’t bother softening it. Hatred wasn’t something you could dress up anyway.

And just like that, the memories crashed over me—how they cast me out of the pack like I was nothing, how I ran for my life through the forest during that nightmare of a chase… the chase that still clawed through my dreams, the downfall that nearly ended me.

And Elias.

God. Elias.

The name alone was enough to shove tears to the edge of my eyes. I blinked them away, harshly, refusing to let them fall.

If I told Elias the truth today… if I laid everything bare in front of him… would he even believe me?

No.

No, he wouldn’t.

He hadn’t listened before. He never gave me the chance.

And that hurt more than any wound they ever carved into my skin.

He hadn’t even hesitated. The moment Sera spinned lies about how I’d been conspiring with rogues—Elias swallowed every word without blinking. He didn’t investigate. Didn’t ask for my side of the story. He didn’t even try to listen to me when he stood before the pack and declared that I had betrayed them all.

And just like that, the judgment was passed.

The pack obeyed him without thought, without pause. Loyalty was supposed to run deep… yet the moment my name was dragged through the mud, every single one of them turned away. Eyes that once held familiarity now carried suspicion. Faces that once smiled at me hardened with doubt. It was as if I had become a stranger overnight.

“I can’t forgive them,” I murmured, the words scraping out of me like something sharp. “I can’t forgive Elias. Or any of them.”

My voice shook—not with fear, not with sorrow—but with a fury I could barely contain. “No one stood up for me. Not one person even asked if it was true. So why should I bother explaining myself now? What’s the point? To earn their pity? Their guilt? I don’t want any of it.”

Mikael observed me in silence, his expression unreadable. He sat there like a shadow given shape—still, dark, and impossible to ignore.

“So you were accused of a crime you didn’t commit?” he said at last. His voice was low, threaded with something that sounded a lot like doubt.

A knot formed in my throat, but I forced myself to nod.

He tilted his head, lips curling into a slow, cool smirk. “And why,” he asked, “would I believe you?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. My fingers curled instinctively, nails digging half-moons into my palm until I felt the sting.

“I… I won’t force you to believe me,” I managed, my voice raw, brittle at the edges. I tried to swallow the humiliation clawing up my throat, but it burned anyway.

His lips stretched into a slow, deliberate smirk—one that said he was enjoying every second of my unraveling. As if my pain was some sort of private entertainment he’d been waiting to savor.

I held his stare, refusing to look away even though the weight of it pressed against me like a storm. I didn’t understand why my situation amused him. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected anything else. He was our enemy—no, he had always been the enemy of the Gravemire Pack.

Enemy.

The words slammed into each other in my mind, sparking a sudden jolt of clarity.

I shot upright, too fast, and a sharp pain lanced through my ribs. I sucked in a breath, wincing, but the discomfort didn’t smother the sudden flicker of hope that bloomed inside me. Something I could use. Something I could cling to.

This… this was what I had begged the goddess for. And for once, she had listened.

I opened my mouth to speak, to seize that moment, but a harsh knock shattered the air.

“Alpha.” The voice on the other side of the door strained under urgency—panic leaking through every syllable. “There’s an emergency.”

The Alpha of Veyrath’s head snapped toward the door, jaw tightening. He stared at it like the mere wood had offended him. “What kind of emergency?” he demanded.

“It’s the southern border,” the man replied, breathless. “Our patrol found tracks—fresh ones. Rogues. A lot of them. Rovan says they’re circling closer. He needs you.”

The air shifted—subtle at first, then sharp enough to prickle against my skin.

The Alpha of Veyrath—no, Mikael—let his aura unfurl like a shockwave. Something ancient and heavy, as if he carried centuries of power in his veins and had just stopped pretending otherwise.

For a heartbeat, Mikael didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He sat utterly still on the edge of the bed, staring toward the door as though he could already see the violence waiting outside. His jaw tightened. His shoulders squared. And then, with a long, steady exhale, he made his decision.

“I need to go.”

His voice was controlled, but the underlying force of it rattled the metal tray beside my cot. He rose from the hospital bed with a fluid, predatory grace—so smooth it made the ground feel like it vibrated under the weight of his presence. As he strode toward the exit, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“You,” he said, voice low and edged in command. “Stay here and recover. Do not move unless I tell you. I still need to deal with you.”

I lifted my chin, refusing to shrink beneath his dominance. “And if I refuse?”

His eyes flashed—dark, sharp, amused. A slow, taunting grin tugged at his lips. “Don’t test me, woman.”

My breath hitched, but not because I was intimidated. This was irritation—deep, hot, aggravating irritation bubbling through my veins.

He didn’t wait for whatever else I had to say. Mikael turned away, all decisive confidence, and disappeared through the room. His absence left a sudden, hollow stillness behind, as if the air was finally allowed to breathe again.

Moments later, the nurses and the doctor hurried back inside, fussing over my wounds and quietly restoring the chaos I’d caused—like Mikael’s presence had simply pushed them out of existence, and now they were rushing to reclaim their space.