The Alpha's Treasured Luna

Chapter 6

Erica stepped into Hellfur, the warm air of the bar brushing her face as she moved toward the counter. She slung her knapsack onto the empty stool beside her, scanning the room. The bar wasn’t packed yet, but the slow gathering of patrons indicated Happy Hour had just begun.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender, a young man with a friendly smile, greeted her.

“In a second. I’ve got a friend joining me soon,” Erica replied politely. He nodded and moved on to assist another customer.

She pulled out her hair tie, letting her loose curls tumble down her back. As she raked her fingers through her hair, her thoughts drifted back to her father’s text message. Why did it always feel so hard to talk to him? He never listened, just dictated. It wasn’t protection—it was smothering, a cage she couldn’t break free from.

"Boo!" Amanda's playful voice broke through her thoughts as she wrapped her arms around Erica's shoulders.

“Hey, Mandy!” Erica's mood lifted instantly as she hugged her back. Amanda always had that effect on her, brightening any dark cloud hanging overhead.

“Look at you! I love the hair! It’s come out so good!” Erica exclaimed, admiring her friend’s new look. Amanda had a stylish blonde bob with seafoam green and electric blue tips. She spun around, showing it off.

“Thanks! Just finished it when you texted me.” Amanda grinned as she slid onto the stool beside Erica, moving the knapsack out of the way.

The bartender returned, and Erica ordered two lemon drops. “My treat today. I got a nice tip at work.”

“Oh? I didn’t know the candle shop gave tips,” Amanda teased, taking a sip of her drink. “You’ve inspired me. I’ve been thinking about getting a part-time job at the salon around the corner.”

Erica laughed softly, the warm buzz of the bar settling her nerves. “Glad someone thinks I’m doing something good.”

Amanda’s expression softened. “Your dad again?”

“It’s always him,” Erica sighed, swirling her drink. “I’m not going to let him ruin my summer, though. No matter how hard he tries.”

She raised her glass to Amanda. “Cheers to a relaxing, drama-free summer!”

Just as Amanda lifted her glass to join the toast, her eyes glazed over. Erica frowned, noticing the sudden hush that fell over the bar. Everyone had the same distant look, their minds locked in a shared mind-link, even the bartender had gone still.

Erica’s stomach tightened. She gulped down the rest of her drink, her fingers fumbling as she slung her knapsack back over her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Amanda’s eyes cleared, and she quickly grabbed Erica’s hand. “We have to go. Alpha Wayne just sent word—there’s been a sighting of rogues. He’s ordered everyone to get home immediately.”

Erica’s heart skipped a beat. “Rogues?” Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out shakier than she wanted.

Amanda squeezed her hand. “Yeah, come to my house. It’s closer anyway. Don’t worry about your dad—he’ll understand.”

Erica doubted that. Her dad was probably losing his mind by now. She nodded anyway, turning her phone back on with a sigh. The bar was a flurry of movement as patrons rushed out, the bartenders ushering people toward the doors, assuring them not to worry about paying tabs.

The sudden urgency in the air made Erica’s chest tighten. It wasn’t the threat of the rogues that scared her. It was the reminder that something was wrong with her. She couldn’t feel the Alpha’s command like the others. Ever since her 18th birthday, things had been off.

The night before her birthday had been perfect—her father had even let her have a party. He’d been almost like his old self, kind and lenient. But at midnight, when it was time for her to shift, everything went wrong. The pain had been unbearable. For over an hour, she’d writhed in agony, her body transforming halfway, but never fully. Her wolf was there, lurking just beneath the surface, but unreachable. A wall she couldn’t break through.

Since then, her father had become even more controlling, convinced that her incomplete shift made her vulnerable. She hated it. Hated being treated like she was fragile.

Just as her phone powered on, the screen lit up with a flood of missed calls. The phone buzzed again, ringing for what felt like the eleventh time.

“Come on, girls.” A deep voice called out as they stepped outside. A man approached them, broad-shouldered and muscular, with tattoos covering his arms. His dark hair was tied up in a neat bun, and his beard was meticulously trimmed. He looked every bit the seasoned warrior.

“Hi, Jani,” Amanda said, giving the man a small wave. “We’re heading to my house.”

“Fine by me, less work for me.” Jani gave a curt nod. “Let’s get moving.”

Erica glanced down at her phone, still ringing. With a deep breath, she answered. “Hi, Dad…”

“WHERE ARE YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I AM? WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSWER SOONER?”

Erica flinched at the volume of his voice. Jani grimaced as he held the car door open for them. “Is that Philander? He’s going to pop a vein if he keeps yelling like that.”

Erica gave Amanda a look, and they both climbed into the car, Amanda taking the front seat at Jani’s insistence. Erica kept the phone to her ear, enduring the onslaught of her father’s anger.

“WHO ARE YOU WITH RIGHT NOW, ERICA?!” His frustration boiled over the line.

“I’m with the Delta,” she replied, her voice flat. “He’s taking us to Amanda’s house.”

“I’LL PICK YOU UP WHEN I’M DONE AT THE HOSPITAL. THERE’S A PACK EMERGENCY, AND YOU TURNED YOUR PHONE OFF? I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE DISAPPOINTED.”

The call ended with a sharp click. Erica leaned back in the seat, staring out the window. The tightness in her chest returned, a painful knot that she’d grown too familiar with. She wanted to cry, but the tears never came. She wouldn’t let them.

Amanda shot her a sympathetic glance but didn’t say anything. The car was quiet for a moment, the weight of her father’s words hanging in the air.

“So, Jani,” Amanda broke the silence, her voice cautious. “What happened? How did rogues get into our territory?”

Jani’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenched. “Rogues are like rats. They slip through the cracks when you least expect it.”

Erica stared out the window, her mind far away. She shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers brushing against the $100 bill from earlier. She clenched it tightly in her fist, letting the cool paper anchor her to the present. The tension in her chest slowly eased as her eyes grew heavy.