The Luna's Reluctant Alpha

Chapter Fourteen

KAI

The woods swallowed me whole, darkness and all, as I ran. Thunder's paws thundered against the earth, our shared heartache fueling the desperate need for escape. Each stride was a flight from the agony of what I'd done, but with each bound, the realization clawed deeper: there was no outrunning this pain.

The night air whipped past, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, a usually comforting blend that now just seemed to suffocate. Trees blurred into an indistinct mass as Thunder's powerful muscles propelled us further into the wilderness. The forest had always been a refuge, a place where my thoughts could untangle. But tonight, it offered no solace.

When we could run no more, when our limbs begged for mercy and our lungs heaved for air, we stopped at a clearing where moonlight spilled through the canopy like a spotlight on our torment. Thunder reared his head back and released a howl so mournful it seemed to tear the night apart.

It started as a single lament—a cry of betrayal to the Moon Goddess for making me choose between love and duty. But soon, others joined in. The pack sensed my pain; they felt it as their own. Our collective sorrow rose up into the night in a chilling chorus that echoed through Cedar Creek, sending shivers down the spines of those who heard it.

From afar, I could sense Sasha's presence—her pain reverberated like an echo of my own. The bond between fated mates wasn't something easily severed; it was etched deep within our souls. Even without looking, I knew Alexis was somewhere out there feeling every bit of this heartbreak.

I didn't go back to my cottage; the solitude would be unbearable. Instead, I found myself at my father's mansion, seeking some semblance of company even if it was just the silent presence of others.

***

I woke up, a raw ache in my chest, the kind that sears through flesh and bone to gnaw at your soul. My head throbbed, each pulse a hammer strike against my skull. It was the kind of pain that didn't belong in the physical realm; it was emotional, mental, a gaping wound left by my own doing. I reached out for Thunder, needing his strength, his counsel, but he didn't answer. That never happened. We were two halves of a whole, yet in that moment, I felt utterly alone.

"Thunder," I whispered into the silence of my room, the word barely a breath, but he remained silent. He was hurting too because of what I'd done—rejected our fated mate. My gut twisted with guilt.

The door creaked open and Nala stepped in, her presence a comforting constant in my life since childhood. She carried a tray laden with food—the smell usually roused my appetite, but today it did nothing to stir me.

"Kai, you need to eat something," she said with her typical no-nonsense tone as she set the tray on my bedside table.

I turned away from her, staring blankly at the wall. "Not hungry."

Nala huffed. "You'll eat because you must." Her hand landed on my shoulder with a firm squeeze. "Your body needs strength even when your spirit is weak."

Her words were a bandage over an open wound—necessary but insufficient. With reluctance, I sat up and picked at the food without tasting it.

As I mechanically moved food around my plate, Coco toddled into the room, her little hands clutching a worn-out teddy bear. "Kai hurt?" she asked, her blue eyes wide with concern.

"Just tired, baby girl," I lied, managing a smile for her sake. "Didn't sleep very well."

She patted my face with her chubby hand. "Poor Kai-Kai." She pressed her lips on my cheek, sticky with what smelled like maple syrup. "All better now."

I texted Coach and told him I wouldn't make it to practice. He understood; he always did.

The phone rang and Miles's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "We've got trouble," he said grimly.

I tensed immediately; Miles didn't do grim unless it was serious.

"Mary Alarcon is dead," he continued. The words hit me like a physical blow—Mary was gentle and kind-hearted, a young beta who dedicated her life to helping others both within our pack and in the human clinics where she worked as a nurse.

"How?" I managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"I don't think it's a rogue attack. I ain't never seen anything like this," Miles replied. "It's... bad, Kai. Real brutal… there's blood and… it's everywhere."

The savagery wasn't characteristic of any wolf behavior—it was something darker, more sinister. It was just a feeling I had.

My heart sank further as Miles described how Mary had been found on the outskirts of our territory where she lived with her grandmother—the woman who now had no one left to care for her.

"Get everyone together," I ordered Miles before hanging up. I needed to see this for myself; needed to feel that rage boiling in my veins—it was better than this crushing despair.

Amelia walked in just as I stood up from bed; her eyes were stormy with barely restrained fury as she shifted into full Luna mode before me.

"I'll take care of everything," she said firmly. "Funeral arrangements for Mary and making sure her grandmother is cared for."

Her efficiency was cold comfort against the tide of emotions threatening to drown me. All I could think about was retribution—a violent end for those who dared harm one of our own.

Driven by anger and an urge to act, I headed down to our holding cells where we kept prisoners—mostly rogues we caught trespassing or causing trouble on our lands.

There sat the old rogue wolf in one cell, the one we caught weeks ago; his matted grey fur and ragged clothes spoke of long years spent alone without pack or purpose. His eyes met mine unflinchingly as I questioned him aggressively about Mary's murder.

"I know nothing of it," he croaked after enduring my wrathful interrogation.

His admission only stoked my anger further and without thinking twice, my fist connected with his jaw—a futile attempt to channel my rage into something tangible.

Miles watched silently from the corner of the room until finally stepping forward when it became clear no amount of violence would pry more information from our captive's lips.

"The rogues are following someone new," the old man gasped out between labored breaths. "They're crazed... fanatical."

I froze at his words; they held an ominous weight that pressed down on me with suffocating force.

"Vampires?" Miles asked sharply.

"No!" The rogue's denial was vehement as if insulted by the suggestion. "Vampires are long gone... but there's something else—something worse coming."

His rheumy eyes bore into mine as he delivered his warning—a prophecy laced with dread that curled around my spine like tendrils of ice. "You be ready, baby Alpha. You might not survive this one."

I ordered Miles to secure Mary's property and impose a curfew on the entire town before visiting my father's room—his frail form lay against crisp white sheets, his breathing shallow yet steady as he listened to my report on Mary's death and the rogue's warning.

"Do what you must," Armando rasped out weakly. "Protect our people."

His words echoed Thunder's silent presence within me—a call to arms that resonated deep within my bones even as confusion clouded my thoughts like a thick fog rolling in from the sea.

I convened a meeting with my security staff immediately afterward—their faces set in grim lines as we discussed strategies and preparations for what lay ahead. The scent of fear and determination mingled in the air as we planned defenses against an unknown enemy whose shadow already loomed large over us all.

The pack needed me strong, decisive—yet here I stood fractured by inner turmoil and an ache that threatened to tear me apart from within. The mental anguish clawed at me mercilessly as I struggled under its weight; it demanded attention even amidst crisis—an irony not lost on me as I faced down one threat while nursing another deep within where no one could see or ease its tormenting grip.

***

The sterile scent of the morgue seeped into my senses, but it couldn't mask the metallic tang of blood that clung to the air like a harbinger of death. I stood in the cold room, staring down at the lifeless body of Mary Alarcon, her features frozen in an expression of terror. The sight should've been jarring to anyone, but as an Alpha, seeing one of my own like this cut deeper than any blade could.

Her skin was waxy and pale, a stark contrast to the vivid red of her once vibrant hair, now dulled and matted with blood. I remember how she used to toss it over her shoulder with a carefree laugh, the swirling color drawing all eyes to her. It looked like autumn leaves dancing in the sun, but now it was more akin to fallen leaves trampled underfoot.

Dark bruises stood out against her pallid skin. Gashes from a sharp weapon marred her flesh. Whoever did this was merciless; that much was obvious from the horrific damage done to her body. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to look away. Images of a similar brutality flashed through my mind — an echo of pain I'd been trying so hard to forget.

A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me from my thoughts. My head whipped around to see Ethan, a middle-aged delta and the town's only orthodonist. He was also Mary's ex-boyfriend. His brown eyes were hollow, reflecting a pain that mirrored my own. He opened his mouth as if about to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. I saw him swallow hard, forcing back the tears that welled up in his eyes. I wanted to offer him some form of reassurance, but what could I say? How do you comfort someone when you yourself are aching from the same pain?

"I..." He choked out, before shaking his head and squeezing my shoulder. "She didn't deserve this."

"No one does." I agreed, turning back to Mary's body.

Ethan lingered beside me for a moment longer before finally leaving the room, the soft click of the door echoing around us. Silence settled once more, wrapping around me like a shroud. It was oppressive, smothering - a reminder of the brutal reality staring me right in the face.

Sheriff Henderson stepped up to stand beside me, his face a mask of professionalism hiding the disgust and pity in his eyes. We both knew this wasn't a wolf attack. Wolves kill to eat, to survive. This... this was a m******e for pleasure. Mary's body was marred with lacerations that no animal, rogue or otherwise, would have inflicted.

"She was one of the good ones," Henderson muttered, breaking the silence that enveloped us. "She babysat Jordan a long time ago. He was a little devil of a tyke."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "She took care of her grandmother... worked at the clinic." The words felt hollow even as they left my lips.

Henderson sighed, flipping through his notepad. "Doesn't add up to a rogue attack," he said. "Too... personal."

A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined Alexis in Mary's place. The pain that thought conjured nearly dropped me to my knees; it echoed inside me, leaving a resonance that wouldn't fade. Thunder remained conspicuously silent through it all, his absence like a black hole where once there was comforting companionship.

"Kai." Henderson's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, his look one of concern. "You need rest."

"I can't," I admitted, the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. "Not until I find who did this."

He gave a grim nod. "I thought you might say that."

Stepping out into the night air was like leaving behind a bad dream, only to step into a nightmare. The sky was darker than I remembered, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. I used to love nights like these, when the town was silent and the moonlight crept through the mist like tendrils of silver. But now the stillness felt wrong; it felt like the calm before a storm.

I made my way back to my truck parked at the edge of the lot, ignoring the curious and pitying looks thrown my way from those lingering around. Their whispers followed me, filling the air with unease. I could hear their confusion, their fear - a low, constant buzz that set my teeth on edge. Their hushed voices pitched like cries of lost souls echoing amidst the darkness.

"She was just a girl... who would do something like this?"

"Is it safe for us here anymore?"

"I heard there's been sightings of an unknown wolf near the borders..."

Their words, laced with fear and uncertainty, swirled around me like venomous vipers; spreading lies, suspicions and more fears. The tension was palpable, creeping into every crevice, every shadowed corner of our small town.

I opened the door to my truck, the metal cool against my skin. I paused for a moment, glancing back at the small crowd. As their Alpha, I knew it was my responsibility to help them feel safe again. But right now...I didn't even know how to make myself feel safe.

I ignored the buzz from my pocket. Caitlin's texts and calls had been relentless since I rejected Alexis, but nothing seemed important now—not Caitlin, not school, not football. Cedar Creek had lost its innocence tonight.

At dinner that evening back at the packhouse, Armando seemed almost better—almost himself—as we all sat around the table in silence. Amelia watched us with eyes that held years of worry softened by a mother's love.

Then Armando seized up, his body convulsing violently. My heart stopped as I watched my father fight for each breath until Grandma Chen rushed in with her potions and whispered incantations.

As she worked, the room filled with the scent of smoldering herbs and aged paper. It was an oddly comforting smell, like a beloved bookshop or library, but the circumstances made it feel more like a funeral parlor. Grandma Chen's wrinkled hands moved continuously, waving over Armando in ancient patterns that seemed ingrained in her very soul. Every muscle in my body screamed for me to do something, anything to help my father, but there was nothing I could do.

Except wait.

The seizure eventually subsided, leaving Armando panting and bathed in sweat. His hand sought out mine and I took it, feeling the strength that still lay within him despite his weakened state. Amelia rushed forward with a damp cloth, mopping his forehead with frantic tenderness.

"How is he?" I asked Grandma Chen as she straightened up, her old bones clicking with movement.

She sighed heavily, looking older than ever in the dim light. "His body fights a battle not meant for a mortal being, Kai," she said, her accent coating her words like a thick layer of honey. "It's not just the poison in him but something darker, something more menacing."

My heart beat faster in my chest as I heard those words, a cold dread seeping into my veins. "We need to find a way to fight it," I insisted, my voice feeling as if it were coming from someone else. It sounded desperate even to my ears.

"The potion will put him into a deep sleep," Grandma Chen explained in her ancient voice that carried wisdom and secrets unknown to us mere mortals. "But time is slipping through our fingers."

Amelia nodded, her hands clasped tightly together as if holding on to hope itself.

Grandma Chen turned her gaze to me then—a look that saw right through me—and said softly yet firmly, "Take care of your soul as well as your body."

Later that night, I met with Randall and Miles in my father's study—a room filled with books and memories that seemed to press down on us with the weight of responsibility.

"We need to tighten security," Miles said grimly. "Whatever did this... it's not something we've dealt with before."

I glanced at Randall but couldn't hold his gaze for long—not after what happened with Alexis.

"We'll do whatever it takes," Randall said with stoic resolve.

And yet there was no accusation in his voice; no blame—just duty and loyalty to the pack we all cherished above our own lives.

The conversation turned to strategies and defenses but my mind was elsewhere—out there in the woods where shadows moved with intent and where my wolf refused to guide me.

In those same woods later that night, behind Alexis's house, I found myself drawn like a moth to flame. Her window glowed softly against the night's canvas—a beacon of what could have been.

I crouched behind a tree when she flicked on her light and watched until darkness reclaimed her room once more. There on the forest floor littered with fallen leaves and secrets, I let out a plea barely above a whisper—a prayer for Thunder's return—and felt only silence answer back.

The mansion loomed large and imposing as I approached, its windows like eyes holding centuries of secrets. Inside, my footsteps echoed through the hallways as I made my way to my father's study—a place where decisions were made and fates were sealed.

Amelia was there, as I knew she would be—her golden hair reflecting the lamplight, casting an aura that felt both comforting and alien in that moment. She looked up from her book as I entered; her green eyes immediately registered the turmoil etched across my face.

"You don't have to say anything," she said softly after taking in my troubled stance.

I slumped into one of the leather chairs opposite her desk with a heavy sigh. The weight of everything bore down on me—the expectations of being Alpha, the need to protect Caitlin, and now the agony of rejecting Alexis.

Amelia set her book aside and moved gracefully to prepare tea—chamomile with honey—the scent wafting over as she placed a steaming cup before me. It was such a motherly gesture that it almost broke me right then and there.

We sat in silence while I sipped at the tea she'd made. The warm liquid did little to soothe the raw edges of my soul but provided a small comfort nonetheless. She didn't press for conversation; instead, she allowed the quiet to settle around us like a blanket.

Eventually, Amelia spoke again, her voice gentle yet firm. "Go sleep in your old room tonight," she urged. "In the morning, things will look better, I promise."

My old room—the place where childhood memories lingered in every corner and crevice—where pictures of happier times still adorned the walls.

"I'll wake you in the morning," Amelia continued with an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach her eyes—a smile that held its own brand of sadness for what we both knew couldn't be fixed by dawn's light or even time itself.

I nodded silently and stood up on unsteady legs to make my way down familiar corridors lined with family portraits—a lineage of Larsons who had never faced what I did now.

As I closed the door to my old room behind me—the one adorned with medals and trophies from football victories and academic achievements—I realized how empty those accolades felt now. In this room filled with reminders of who I was supposed to be—the Alpha heir apparent—I felt nothing but lost.

The bed creaked slightly under my weight as I lay down fully clothed atop its neatly made surface—too exhausted to bother changing or pulling back covers. My eyes traced over every inch of this room that hadn't been mine for years but now provided some measure of escape from reality.

But sleep wouldn't come easily—not while Thunder retreated further into silence within me—and not while every fiber of my being screamed that rejecting Alexis had been wrong even though logic dictated it was right.

With each breath in this room saturated with nostalgia and regret, sleep finally claimed me—but offered no respite from dreams filled with orange blossom and jasmine—and eyes that mirrored moonlight hurt more than any physical wound ever could.