Cursed Luna: Mated to Three Ruthless Alphas

Nyxara POV "You look like a goddess, my darling." My mother's fingers trembled as she tucked a silver lily behind my ear. I caught her hand, squeezing gently, feeling the roughness of her palm against mine, the hands that had braided my hair every morning for nineteen years. "Mama, you're shaking." "Happy tears, Nyxara." She smiled, but something flickered in her dark eyes. Something that made my stomach clench. "Tonight, you become who you were always meant to be." I wanted to ask what she meant, but the drums began. Deep. Primal. Calling us to the sacred clearing where the full moon hung like a silver coin in the obsidian sky. The pack was already gathered when we emerged. Hundreds of them, their eyes gleaming with wolf-light, their voices rising in the ancient song of welcome. My father stood at the center, tall and commanding in his ceremonial robes, and when he saw me, his face broke into a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "There she is," he boomed, opening his arms wide. "My daughter. Your future Luna." The crowd erupted. Howls pierced the night. My cheeks burned as I walked forward, acutely aware of every eye on me, every whisper of approval. This was everything I'd been prepared for. Everything I should want. So why did my skin prickle with warning? "Smile, little wolf," my father whispered as I reached him, pulling me into an embrace that smelled of pine and smoke. "This is your night." I tried. I really did. But as he raised my hand to present me to the pack, I caught movement in the shadows beyond the firelight. My uncle. He stood apart from the celebration, his face half-hidden in darkness. But I could feel his gaze. Cold. Assessing. When our eyes met, he didn't look away. Didn't smile. Just watched me with an expression I couldn't name. "To Nyxara!" my father's voice rang out. "May the Moon bless her reign!" "To Nyxara!" The response was deafening. Someone pressed a chalice of ceremonial wine into my hands. The liquid gleamed red in the firelight, almost like.. The first scream cut through the celebration like a blade. Everything happened so fast. Too fast. One moment I was standing beside my father, the chalice frozen halfway to my lips. The next, chaos exploded around us. A figure crashed through the circle of gathered wolves. He moved with impossible speed, supernatural grace, cutting down Elder Thorne before anyone could react. Blood sprayed across the sacred ground. "Protect the Alpha!" someone shouted. But the masked man was already moving. His blade flashed silver under the moonlight, and Elder Mara collapsed, clutching her throat. Wolves lunged at him, our strongest warriors and he threw them aside like ragdolls. Like they were nothing. "Nyxara, run!" My mother's hand closed around my wrist, yanking me backward. "Mama, what's happening? Who.." "Run!" But I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Because the masked man had stopped. He stood in the center of the c*****e, blood dripping from his blade, and his head turned slowly, mechanically, until he was looking directly at us. At my mother. "No," she whispered. "No, please.." He moved faster than I thought. One second he was twenty feet away. Next, his blade was buried in my mother's chest. Time stopped, everything stopped, my beloved mom is dead. I watched her eyes widen. I watched the light start to fade from them. I watched her mouth form my name as she crumpled to the ground. "MAMA!" I lunged for her, but arms caught me from behind. My father. His grip was iron, dragging me backward even as I clawed and screamed. "You have to run," he gasped in my ear. "Nyxara, please.." The masked man turned. Blood, my mother's blood, painted his clothes, his hands, his mask. And he was coming for us. My father shoved me behind him, shifting partially, his canines elongating. "Stay back," he snarled at the killer. "You want her, you go through me." "Father, don't.." The masked man's blade moved. My father tried to dodge, tried to fight, but he was too slow. Too human. The sword pierced his side and he went down with a choked gasp. "NO!" I dropped beside him, pressing my hands against the wound. Blood poured between my fingers, hot and thick. "No, no, no, Father, please.." "Run," he wheezed. His hand found mine, slick with blood. "Run, little wolf..." His grip went slack. I looked up through tears at the monster standing over us. Over the bodies of my parents. Over the m******e of my pack. "Why?" The word came out broken. Raw. "Why would you do this?" The masked man tilted his head. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached up and removed his mask. The world tilted. My uncle's face stared back at me. No remorse. No madness. Just cold, terribly calm. "You," I breathed. "It was you. All of this, Uncle, how could.." "The Moon demanded blood." His voice was flat. Empty. Like he was reciting a prayer he'd memorized long ago. He raised the blade. I scrambled backward, my hands slipping in my father's blood. "Please," I sobbed. "Please, I don't understand.." The blade came down. And something inside me shattered. Heat exploded through my veins. My scream tore from somewhere deep and primal, somewhere I didn't know existed. The air around me rippled. Then it ignited. Flames erupted from nothing. They poured from my skin, my hands, my very bones. Unnatural. Impossible. They roared to life in a wave of searing heat that engulfed everything, the bodies, the sacred clearing, my uncle's shocked face. The pack house caught like kindling. Fire climbed the walls, devouring wood and stone, painting the night in shades of orange and red. I tried to stop it. I tried to control it. But the flames were alive, hungry, and they wanted everything. My vision blurred. The heat was consuming me from the inside out. Through the smoke and fire, I saw my uncle stagger back, his clothes burning. Then darkness rushed in. I collapsed. The last thing I heard was the roar of flames devouring everything I'd ever loved. Then nothing…