ANYONE WHO TOUCHES THE LUNA, ANSWERS TO ME
1031 Words
Vespera's Pov
She walked toward me, that pronounced limp making each step deliberate. When she reached where I lay, she crouched down with visible effort, bringing her face level with mine.
"I'm going to question her," Senna announced to the gathered wolves, though her eyes never left my face. "Find out who she is. What she's running from. Why Julian wants her badly enough to send his three best hunters into territory he usually avoids. I'm going to get the truth—all of it—and then we'll have enough information to make a real decision."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to something almost conversational. But there was steel underneath the casual tone.
"And depending on what she tells me," Senna continued, "I'll decide if she lives long enough to see tomorrow's sunrise. Or if we drag her body to the river and let Julian's trackers find what's left."
Her eyes bored into mine—hard, cold, utterly serious.
"So, runaway Luna," she said quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. "You get one chance to convince me you're worth the trouble. One chance to make me believe letting you live won't get my people killed."
She straightened up, addressing the camp again.
"Everyone back to your business. I'll question her privately. When I'm done, I'll call council and we'll vote on her fate. Until then, she's under my authority. Anyone who touches her answers to me."
The crowd dispersed slowly, reluctantly. Some wolves shot me with looks of pity. Others looked hungry, like they were already imagining what it would be like to trade me for supplies or watch me die. Most just looked tired—the bone-deep exhaustion of people who'd seen too much suffering to care about one more broken wolf.
When the last of them had gone back to their fires and shelters, Senna sat down on the rock again. She pulled out a waterskin and took a long drink, then offered it to me.
"Thirsty?" she asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
She moved closer and held the waterskin to my lips. I drank greedily, the water washing away the taste of the river and blood and fear. It was clean, cold, the best thing I'd tasted in days.
When I'd had enough, she pulled back and recapped the skin.
"Thank you," I managed.
"Don't thank me yet." Senna settled back onto her rock, studying me with those hard, assessing eyes. "You heard them. Half want you dead. The other half want to use you. And me? I haven't decided what I want yet."
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"So start talking. And I'd suggest you tell the truth, because I've been lied to by experts. If I even suspect you're feeding me bullshit, I'll cut your throat myself and save everyone the trouble of voting."
I looked at her scarred face, her damaged leg, her eyes that had seen too much cruelty to tolerate any more. I thought about the wolves in this camp—all of them broken, all of them discarded, all of them surviving on the edges of a world that had decided they weren't worth keeping.
I thought about my baby, growing inside me despite everything. About Kael, who might be dead because he tried to help me. About Malachi, who'd thrown me away. About Julian, who'd never wanted me for anything but what I could give him.
And I made a choice.
Truth. Dangerous, terrifying truth. Because lies had gotten me nothing but pain, and maybe—just maybe—honesty would get me something different.
I took a breath, organizing my thoughts. Truth mixed with lies. Facts woven with deception. The trick was making it all sound believable.
"My name is Vespera Solari," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "I was born to a minor noble family. Not wealthy, not powerful, but respectable enough. When I turned twenty-one without shifting, without hearing my wolf's voice, they considered me a failure."
Murmurs rippled through the group. Several wolves nodded in recognition—they understood what it meant to be deemed broken by your own family.
"Alpha Julian of the Iron Claw Pack offered marriage," I continued. "He presented it as a rescue. Told my father he saw potential in me, that bloodlines mattered more than wolf strength. My father was relieved to have me taken off his hands. He paid a generous dowry to sweeten the arrangement."
"How generous?" someone called out—the man with the eye patch.
"Enough to fund a private army," I said quietly. "Which is exactly what Julian used it for."
Senna's eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing. Just gestured for me to continue.
"I thought the marriage would be... normal. Difficult, maybe, but normal. I was wrong." The words tasted like ash. "Julian never wanted a wife. He wanted a broodmare and a bank account. For three years, I endured fertility rituals, healers, medications that made me sick. He was obsessed with getting an heir. When I couldn't give him one, he blamed my lack of a wolf."
I paused, swallowing hard against the memories.
"He had a mistress. Lydia. She mocked me constantly—my empty womb, my wolfless state, my worthlessness. I knew about her but I endured it because I had nowhere else to go. No family who wanted me back. No skills to survive on my own. I was trapped."
The camp was silent now, listening. I could see some of them leaning forward slightly, drawn into the story despite themselves.
"Then came the Blood Moon Festival," I said, my voice dropping. "I went to surprise Julian in his study. Instead, I found him with Lydia. They were... together. When they saw me, Lydia laughed. Told me I was pathetic. And Julian—"
My throat tightened. I forced the words out anyway.
"Julian told me he only kept me around because my dowry funded his ambitions. That I was his propery until he decided otherwise. When I begged him to sever the mating bond, he refused. He said I belonged to him."
"Bastard," someone muttered. Several wolves growled in agreement.
- Writer
