The Fake Luna

Chapter 6

Sia.

Mr. Grumpy looked a little... off this morning. Brooding more than usual — which, for an Alpha, is saying something. Maybe he’s in his feelings. Or whatever alphas experience at sunrise. Moon cramps?

Anyway, I had bigger problems. Like the fact that I was about to get married into a werewolf pack and still didn’t understand a damn thing about their customs. Google was no help. Every pack had its own weird rituals — some bite at the altar, some do blood oaths, some probably howl together in a moonlit group hug. I needed a real ally. Someone who could whisper, “Don’t do that, you’ll get your head chewed off,” before I made a fatal faux pas.

While I mentally spiraled in my comfy chair — gently swinging from side to side like I was pondering the secrets of the universe — some guy was presenting. Shaking, mumbling something and stuttering. Honestly, I wasn’t listening.

What I was doing, was judging the disaster of a design board in front of me.

“Where’s the color? Where’s the passion? Brown and green together? It looks like a swamp. A fashionable swamp, maybe, but still a swamp,” I blurted.

Silence.

Every eye in the room snapped to me. I could practically feel the scent of fear rolling off them. Even the air conditioner seemed to hesitate.

“Luke,” I said, turning my head slowly toward the man mid-presentation. “What color do you like?”

He blinked like a deer caught in headlights. Cleared his throat.

“T-Teal, Luna Marilyn,” he stammered.

“Perfect,” I said with a smile. “The next design board will feature that. No more swamp chic.”

“Yes, Luna,” they all echoed in unison like a terrified choir.

I got up and made my way back to my office.

I needed a new assistant. But not just any assistant.

I needed an ally.

Preferably one who wouldn’t die from anxiety every time I asked a question.

I peeked outside my door and there he was again — Mr... What’s his name again? Eh, whatever. Sharkman it is. Suits him. He’s tall, silent, intimidating, and has been standing there like he’s guarding Buckingham Palace.

Is he my bodyguard or a museum statue?

“Hey, uh… could you come in for a sec?” I asked.

He walked in without a word, posture perfect like someone shoved a broomstick down his back.

“So,” I began, “I need a favor. Just a teeny-tiny background check on someone.”

“Yes, Luna Marilyn,” he said in that same monotone, formal as a royal butler. Ugh. He’s giving big time ‘palace guard under the sea’ vibes. All he's missing is a seashell spear and a seahorse named Greg.

“I need you to run a check on Blair,” I said casually, leaning against the chair. “Something about her seems... interesting.”

“Very well, Luna.”

I waved him off like royalty and he marched out like I just sent him to battle Poseidon's army.

But yeah—Blair. There’s something in her eyes. A flicker of rebellion? Secrets? Maybe she’s not just a trembling maid with soap opera-level trauma. I want to know what she's hiding. If she is hiding anything.

Just as I turned around, my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the notification. An image.

I clicked it.

Dïck pic.

I nearly flung my phone across the room.

“WHO THE ACTUAL—?!”

A message followed.

“I know you miss this. Can’t wait to give it to you deep and hard.”

I stared at the screen, blinking in horror.

Who is this delusional shrimp-dicked gremlin and why are they sëxting a Luna?

~~~~

Shortly after noon, Sharkman strutted in like the stoic sea soldier he is, carrying a file and handing it to me without a word.

“Thanks,” I said, opening it.

Inside was Blair’s file. Full name: Blair Lake. Age: 25—just like me. Rank: Cursed Omega. Whatever that means, it's likely a ‘bottom of the werewolf social food chain.’ I can relate. Been there, swam that.

But then my brows lifted.

A business management graduate? And an excellent typist? Honestly, she might come in handy as a personal assistant. I mean, Marilyn already terrified the last one to death. Literally.

But the real question is… can I trust her?

~~~~~

As the clock ticked past seven, I grabbed my Birkin, walked out of my office, and found something odd—everyone was still here. Sitting stiff, silent with eyes glued to their work like scared interns.

“Guys,” I said, pausing by the door, “it’s time to head home. Come on now.”

They all looked at me like I’d just suggested we sacrifice the Alpha and have cake.

“But… you said we only leave at 11 p.m.,” Luke stammered.

Eleven? PM?!

Oh Marilyn… you absolute demon.

“Well, new rule,” I said. “Work ends at five. You are not slaves. Grab your stuff and go home—shoo!”

It took a second, then I saw it: relief and pure joy. They sprang to their feet like it was a fire drill, grabbing bags and whispering thank yous like I’d just freed them from eternal damnation.

~~~~~~~

Killian.

I scrolled through my tablet, eyes reading, mind wandering… stuck on her. The woman in my house I call mate… and the woman I can’t find—Coco Bel. Never in my wildest damn dreams did I think I’d be obsessing over a fish. A hot fish, sure—but still.

“Sorry about what happened to your mate,” Rain said, walking in like he didn’t just drop a casual bomb. My Gamma, advisor and professional pain in the äss.

“She’s fine,” I muttered. “Just some memory loss.”

“Yeah, but her pics? That ocean gave her upgrades, bro. She’s all over the blogs—trending hotter than the Moon Goddess in heat.”

I sighed. “The doctor said something about danger hormones or some bullshit—some kind of instinctive bodily reaction that caused… changes.”

I didn’t even believe it as I said it. Danger hormones? The ocean apparently gives you amnesia, tïts, and hips for days. Moon Goddess, get it together.

“And that’s not even the weird part,” I added. “I can hear her dirty thoughts. Not all of them. Just the... spicy ones. When I marked her, she møaned— like really loudly—and suddenly I was in a full-blown rut. Couldn’t even think straight. Never happened before.”

Rain chuckled. “That’s what you get for waiting to mark her. Should’ve done it the night you found out she was your mate.”

“She’s the one who wanted to wait. She insisted I do it after her stupid engagement party.”

He laughed—because my life is so damn funny, apparently.

But honestly? That’s not even top of my worry list right now.

The Moonblood Pack’s been acting cocky lately. Two of their Betas pissed on my territory. Yeah. Literally marked trees like they were dogs on a road trip.

To them, it’s a joke but to me? That’s a declaration of war.

And I don’t do war games. I win.

~~~~~

Sia.

Back home, it was just after midnight. I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in silk pajamas and glowing from my post-dinner shower.

This was it.

Tonight, the shackles break. No more Teddy. No more being someone’s exotic aquarium pet.

According to siren laws, ownership transfers after 24 hours of a successful mate claim. And that meant any moment now... the old contract with Teddy should dissolve.

I stared at my wrist.

And right on cue, something silver glowy cracked—like glass shattering inside my veins. I gasped, stumbling slightly as the chains lifted. I felt lighter and freer.

But then—something new.

Around my neck, a glowing choker appeared. It pulsed for a moment… then vanished into my skin.

Uh… what?

That’s not supposed to happen. I was expecting like... maybe a tattoo or glowy sigil or something, not a ghost collar.

Did I do something wrong?No time to panic. What matters is this:

No more Teddy.

Hello, Killian.

And hopefully, no freaky mating urges tonight. My poor vïrgïn brain needs a break. Which is why I went to Killian's room. To sleep there duh.

“We are not lovers. You stay in your room, I stay in mine,” Killian grumbled, glaring at me like I’d just walked in wearing nothing but rusty potato sacks

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, look who’s talking after sending me a dïck pic while I was at work.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Why the hell would I send you a dïck pic?”

I scoffed. “I don’t know. You tell me. Although… the one I got was not up to your level of… equipment.” I wiggled my fingers dramatically to emphasize just how underwhelming the mystery dïck was.

His frown deepened. For a second, he just stared—hard. Like he was trying to x-ray my soul or solve algebra in his head.

Then, without a word, he grabbed my arm, marched me out of his room like I was a naughty intern, and slammed the door behind me. Locked it too.

Rude!

I grunted and stomped back to my room like a toddler denied dessert. Slamming the door for good measure, I collapsed onto my bed.

That’s when my phone lit up.

Unknown number. Again.

"I know what you did. I'll expose you."

I froze. My blood turned to

ice, my heart dropped straight into my stomach. A witness? How?! I made sure there were no survivors. No drifting clothes, not even a bubble trail left behind.