The Alpha Who Buried His Luna Alive

Similoluwa “Simi” Ade-Solanke’s POV The first thing I notice is the smell. Wet earth. Rusting iron. The stagnant water of the Lekki mangroves. And blood. My blood. I lie on my back inside an iron coffin, staring at the grey sky above me. Rain gathers along the edges of the open lid and drips onto my cheek. My wrists are bound in silver, and a matching collar circles my neck. I have never hated jewellery more. “Adriel?” He stands beside the coffin, close enough that I could reach for him if my hands weren’t tied. He doesn’t answer. “Adriel, please look at me.” His gaze finally drops to mine. For a moment, neither of us speaks. I search his face, looking for some sign that this is a misunderstanding. Perhaps the Council has gone too far. Perhaps he’s about to tell them the sentence has been overturned. Perhaps I’m going to wake up in my own bed and discover that the last few hours were nothing but a nightmare. But the rain keeps falling, and the iron beneath me remains painfully cold. This is real. “Tell them to stop,” I whisper. Adriel’s jaw tightens. Behind him, several members of the Crowned Sun Pack stand beneath the mangrove trees. Their faces are difficult to make out through the rain, but I recognise the elders’ ceremonial robes. I recognise the broad shoulders of the warriors assigned to guard the burial site. These are people I’ve known for years. Some of them have eaten at my table. Some have come to me for advice when their families were struggling. I’ve sat beside their children when they were sick and held their hands while they waited for the healers. Now they’re standing around a hole in the ground, watching me wait for my own death. I swallow, but the silver collar burns against my throat. “Adriel, you know I didn’t do this.” His eyes flick towards the elders before returning to me. “I know what you told me.” I stare at him. “That isn’t what I asked.” He looks away. My stomach twists. Seven days ago, the first child fell ill. I remember the panic in the healer’s room, the way the child’s mother clung to the bedpost because she couldn’t bear to watch another healer shake their head. At first, nobody knew what was happening. The fever didn’t behave like an ordinary illness, and the child’s wolf seemed unable to fight it. Then another child became sick. Then another. By the time the second family lost a child, fear had spread through the pack faster than the sickness itself. I spent hours with the healers, trying to find an explanation. I questioned everyone who had entered the children’s rooms. I asked the Council to restrict access to the healing chambers until we understood what was happening. I did everything I could think of. Then someone found the ritual jars beneath the floorboards of my private quarters. Blood-soaked cloth. Silver dust. Symbols I had never used in any of my own rituals. And suddenly, the Luna who had spent years protecting the pack was the woman everyone wanted to blame. “I asked for an investigation,” I say, forcing myself to look at Adriel. “You remember that, don’t you? I asked you to give me time to prove someone planted those things.” “I remember.” “Then why am I here?” He draws a breath, but the answer doesn’t come. I have known Adriel long enough to recognise when he’s angry, when he’s hiding something, and when he’s trying to make a decision he doesn’t want to make. Right now, I see all three. His right hand is clenched at his side. The ritual runes tattooed along his arm give off a faint amber glow beneath his wet sleeve. I’ve seen those runes flare during battles. I’ve seen them brighten when he calls upon the authority of the Alpha. I’ve never seen them look so dull. “Look at me,” I say again, quieter this time. “Not at them. Not at the ground. At me.” He does. I reach for our mate bond, searching for the familiar warmth that has always connected us. Even when we argued, even when he drove me mad with that stubborn Alpha pride of his, the bond was there. Tonight, it feels strained. But it’s there. “Can you feel it?” I ask. His expression changes. Only slightly, but I see it. “You can,” I whisper. “You know I’m telling the truth.” “Simi…” “No. Don’t say my name like that. Just answer me.” He looks as though he wants to reach for me. Instead, he takes a step back. That small movement hurts more than I expect. I have spent years standing beside this man, defending him when people questioned his decisions and reminding him that being Alpha doesn’t mean he has to carry every burden alone. I never imagined I’d be begging him to stand beside me. A movement beneath the trees catches my attention. Elder Abraham Dosunmu is approaching. He has been part of our lives for as long as I can remember. He guided Adriel through his early years as Alpha, taught me the laws governing the Luna’s position, and settled disputes that threatened to tear the pack apart. I’ve always trusted his judgement. Until now, I suppose. “Elder,” I call. “Please. You know me.” He stops beside Adriel and studies me with the same calm expression he wears at Council meetings. “The Council has reviewed the evidence, Simi.” “The Council has reviewed what someone wanted it to see.” A few wolves shift uneasily behind him. Abraham’s expression doesn’t change. “The children are suffering. Some of their families have already buried their own. The pack is demanding answers.” “And you think burying me will give them those answers?” “I think the law must be upheld.” I stare at him, waiting for something more. An explanation. A promise to keep investigating. Some indication that the man who once told me justice mattered more than rank still believes his own words. Nothing comes. He turns to Adriel. “The moon is reaching its peak. The sentence must be carried out before the tide turns.” Adriel doesn’t move. For the first time, I notice how tightly he is holding his shoulders, as though he is bracing himself against a blow no one else can see. “Give us a moment,” he says. Abraham studies him. “You have had your moment, Alpha.” The words are gentle. The warning beneath them isn’t. Abraham steps away, but he doesn’t return to the elders. He remains close enough to watch. I look back at Adriel. “What happens if you refuse?” His eyes sharpen. “Simi, don’t.” “Don’t what? Ask you a question?” “Please.” There it is again. That word. He keeps asking me to stop, to listen, to trust him. Yet he still hasn’t told me what he’s planning to do. “Are you afraid of them?” I ask. His silence answers me. I almost wish he’d shouted at me instead. At least anger would give me something to fight against.