THE CRYING LUNA

No. This isn’t how people die. The thought hammered in my head, a frantic, desperate beat against the silence of the room. Just a few minutes ago, he was smiling, his eyes sparkling with a glint of cruel excitement. He can't be dead. Not now. Not like this. "Wake up, please," I wailed, shaking his limp body with a force born of pure panic. I couldn’t grasp the moment, couldn't comprehend how this tragedy had unfolded. My mind raced, searching for a way to undo it, to rewind time, but there was no going back. Desperation clawed at my throat, suffocating the screams I longed to release. In a frantic, almost delirious haze, I began to shed my clothes. "Here's my body, Max," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips as I tore my robe open, standing naked and exposed. My v****a pink and inviting, I was sure it was. And my innocent breasts and n*****s pointing at him but he made no move, "You said you wanted to touch it, didn't you? Now you can," I cried even harder. But he remained still. I tried to breathe life back into him, forcing air into his mouth, but my pleas and frantic efforts were met with a terrifying stillness. "Max, please don't do this," I whimpered, the words a faint echo in the dead air. He couldn't hear me. His skin was already cold to the touch. Only a few hours ago, at our wedding, he was full of smiles, joking with a disturbing excitement. "You're a virgin, right?" he had asked, his voice low and eager. Too shy to say yes, I'd simply nodded, my heart pounding with a secret I couldn't share: I was already planning my escape. A small sack with a change of clothes was packed, and the back door was left unlocked. I had been forced into this marriage, a political pawn for my older sister, Eveline. But not wanting to be his wife didn’t mean I wanted him dead. The plan was to run away, not to kill him, an innocent man whose only crime was loving me. Screaming would only bring the wrong people. People like Henry, his best friend, who hated me on sight. I was certain he would be the first to call for my death. But running away now felt wrong. "Maybe I should take him to the hospital," I thought, "maybe the moon goddess will help." My mind spiraled into a storm of "maybes." I closed my eyes, trying to piece together the moments leading to this horrifying end. We had come into the room after the long, grueling wedding celebration. He had jumped onto the bed, full of an unsettling energy. "Take your clothes off, woman," he had ordered, the command a sharp contrast to his earlier charm. "You're my husband, and my body belongs to you," I sneered, a mask of false bravery. "But please, don't rush me, we have all the time in the world," I said trying to give reason we shouldn’t get down that night. The mask shattered instantly. "How dare you talk to me like that?" he growled, his hand closing around my throat. I struggled, gasping for air, until I was lucky enough to break free. My back hit the wall, and I pleaded, "Please, just give me tonight." But he just unzipped his pants, and the sight of his p***s confirmed my worst fears. I knew I had two choices: surrender to him or become a homeless fugitive, wandering the woods until some unknown savior arrived. He moved closer, his hand yanking my ball gown up. "Oh, what a fresh body," he breathed, his finger tracing a path before slipping inside me. That was the last move he ever made. Now, here I was, offering him the very thing he had wanted, but he was gone. "Pull yourself together," my inner wolf growled, a voice of raw instinct cutting through the panic. My life felt like an endless cycle of suffering. This marriage had been a means to an end for Eveline, a cruel way for her to secure her own happiness with Alpha Jerry. The thought of my sister's malicious smile made me shake and sweat. "Eveline will burn me alive," I thought, the terror of her wrath eclipsing even my grief. I couldn’t just throw Max's body away; it felt satanic, a violation of pack law. There were ancient widow rituals, a cleansing I had to undergo to avoid being cursed forever. Who would deliver me? I was truly alone. I had no one. And with that devastating realization, I rested my head on his chest, hoping for the best while preparing for the worst. Then, a voice. "Lara, open the door. Alpha Jerry wants to talk to his younger brother, Max." It was Henry. My mind reeled. Alpha Jerry? He'd been away for nine years. Stories of his cruelty were pack legend. The fact that he was back, and here, meant my time was up. He would demand my head for his brother's death. And why was Henry calling for me? Didn't he know Max was inside? Why would the Alpha send Henry instead of a servant? "I'm coming," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. I looked down at Max's body. His skin was turning a strange, dusky color, his face contorting. Terrified, I gently pushed him to the edge of the bed and covered him with a thick blanket. "Open the door, Lara!" Henry's voice was impatient now. "Max can't see Alpha Jerry right now," I struggled to reply, my mind a blank. "Please tell him to wait, I'll be with him soon." "Alpha Jerry just came back after nine years, and you think you can keep him waiting?" he growled, knocking harder. I had no choice. I opened the door. "He's still sleeping," I said, a desperate lie as I pointed to the mound on the bed. "It was a long night." "Brother, I'm here," Jerry's booming voice filled the room as he walked past me, his arms open to embrace Max. If I could've disappeared, I would have. "Wake him up! How can he still be sleeping?" he shouted, kicking at the body. The blanket slipped, and Max fell to the floor like a log of wood. The two men stared, their eyes wide with shock. "I didn't kill him, I swear!" I cried, collapsing to my knees. The mean Alpha Jerry of my nightmares was real. I knew he would never spare my life. I should pray to the goddess now, for my days were numbered. "Are you ready to tell me what killed my kid brother?" Alpha Jerry's voice was a low, terrifying roar, and all I could do was tremble.