The Alpha's Stolen Luna

The bars are cold. Like, actually cold. Cold enough that it hurts my palms when I touch them. Five years. Five years in this dump. Five years since Rylan looked at me like I was garbage and handed me over to the hunters. Five years since I last heard my own name said like it meant something. Tonight, I’m getting out. The night guard is sloppy. It is always on Thursdays. I don’t know why. Maybe he has a girl he’s texting. Maybe he just doesn’t care. Either way, it works for me. I wait. Listen. His footsteps go down the hall, slow and heavy. When they fade, I move. The lock pick’s a spoon. I’ve been bending it for six weeks. My fingers still hurt from it. It takes me 43 seconds to get the cell open. I don’t breathe the whole time. The hallway's empty. Stairs have two guards asleep at the desk. Drunk, probably. It's a chain link fence with a spot I’ve been loosening since day 1,734. Yeah, I counted. I move quietly. Silence is the only reason I’m still alive here. The alarm doesn’t go off until I’m already over the fence. “Prisoner escape! Sector 4!” Too late, idiots. I hit the treeline and ran. God, I run. My lungs feel like they’re on fire. My legs shake. Five years of concrete and terrible food didn’t kill me, but it sure didn’t make me strong. I don’t stop until I can’t see the city lights anymore. Moonridge Forest. Rylan’s forest now. He’s Alpha. He’s engaged to Lena from Silver Fang. I saw it in some smuggled newspaper six months ago. The picture made me want to throw up. He thinks I’m dead. Good. Dead people don’t get questioned. I found an old hunting cabin at dawn. It’s falling apart, but the water pump works. I wash off as best I can and look in the cracked mirror. I look awful. Gaunt. Scarred. Hair cut short with a shiv because that’s all I had. Not the Luna he married. Not even close. Perfect. Rylan won’t recognize me. But the bond will. I touch my wrist. The mate mark is there, but it’s faded. Gray. Dead-looking. Betrayal kills the bond. That’s what the elders said. It almost kills it. I’m gonna make him remember. Then I’m gonna make him pay. I eat half a can of cold beans from the pantry. It tastes like metal and desperation. My stomach cramps, but I force it down. I can’t hunt yet. I’m too shaky. Outside, the forest is quiet. Too quiet. Moonridge wolves patrol these woods every night. If one catches my scent, I’m done. I leave the cabin at dusk. Moonridge Packhouse is a two-day walk if I stick to the trees. Roads are too risky. Cameras. Patrols. Hunters. I move at night. Sleep in ditches during the day. It’s not glamorous. But it works. On the second night, I hear them. Wolves. Close. I freeze behind a fallen log and don’t breathe. Three of them. Moonridge scouts. Black fur, yellow eyes. They’re talking in the pack link. I can’t hear the words, but I catch the tone. “Human scent,” one says. “Old. Weak.” “Let it go,” another says. “Alpha wants us at the border by dawn. Rogue activity.” They move on. I don’t breathe again until they’re gone. Rylan’s keeping the borders tight. Smart. If he knows I’m alive, he’ll kill me himself before anyone else gets the chance. I reach the edge of Moonridge City at sunrise. It’s changed. New walls. New guards. Same lies underneath. The prison’s on the east side. The packhouse is on the north ridge. I can’t go to the packhouse looking like this. So I steal. A uniform from a laundry line. Bread from a market stall when the vendor’s not looking. Boots two sizes too big from a back alley. I hate it. But pride doesn’t keep you alive. By nightfall, I’m standing at the servant’s gate of Moonridge Packhouse. The gates are silver. The walls are stone. The Blackthorn sigil stares down at me. A wolf I don’t know anymore. The guard barely looks at me. “New girl?” he asks. I nod. Keep my eyes down. “The kitchen's short staffed for the engagement feast,” he says. “Go in. Head steward’s by the back door.” Engagement feast. Rylan’s marrying Lena tomorrow. Perfect timing. Inside, the packhouse is loud. Music, laughter, clinking glasses. The smell of roasted meat makes my stomach turn. I haven’t eaten real food in days. “New girl!” a woman snaps. Mid-forties, flour on her apron, stress in her eyes. Head steward, obviously. “Kitchen. Now. Wash dishes. Don’t talk. Don’t touch anything that isn’t yours.” I nod and move. The kitchen’s chaos. Heat, steam, shouting. I take the dishwashing station in the corner. It keeps my head down. Keeps my hands busy. Two hours pass. My hands are raw. My back aches. Then I hear it. Rylan’s voice. “Where’s the wine for table seven?” I freeze. He walks in. Taller than I remember. Broader. Scars on his forearms I didn’t put there. His hair’s shorter. His face is harder. He looks tired. Like a man who hasn’t slept in years. His eyes scan the room. They pass over me and don’t stop. Good. “Table seven,” he says again. “Right here, Alpha,” I say. My voice is steady. Different. Five years in prison changes how you talk. I lift the tray and walk to him. Close. Too close. His scent hits me. Pine and storm. The same as it was five years ago. The bond in my chest twitches. Dormant, but awake. Rylan frowns. “You look familiar.” My heart stops. “Everyone says that,” I say. I keep my eyes on the tray. “I have one of those faces.” He doesn’t move. “Have you worked here for a long time?” “Three days,” I lied. Rylan nods slowly. Like he doesn’t believe me. “Be careful around Lena. She doesn’t like strangers.” Then he takes the tray and walks away. I exhale. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath. The bond is awake now. Faint. But there. He felt it too. He just doesn’t know why. A kid bumps into me on the way out. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m Kell. You okay?” I nod. “Sel,” I say. “Name’s Sel.” Kell smiles. It’s small. Tired. “Be careful, Sel. Lena’s in a mood tonight. She doesn’t like new faces near Rylan.” I force a smile back. “Thanks for the warning.” The feast goes on forever. I keep my head down. Wash dishes. Carry trays. Listen. Rylan announces the alliance at midnight. “Tomorrow, Silver Fang and Moonridge become one,” he says. “No more rogues. No more weakness.” The pack cheers. Lena smiles at his side. I watch from the doorway. Rylan doesn’t look happy. He looks trapped. Good. Let him feel what it’s like. At 2 AM, the kitchen finally clears out. I slipped away. I know where his office is. Third floor. Northwest corner. I picked locks in prison. For food. For information. Rylan’s lock is better than the prison’s. It takes me 90 seconds. Inside, it’s clean. Too clean. No photos. No personal things. Like he erased the past. I start with the desk. Files. Contracts. Alliance papers with Silver Fang. Nothing useful. Then I see it. A locked drawer. Silver inlay. Moonridge Alpha seal. My hands shake as I pick the lock. Inside: a dagger. Silver. And a letter. The letter is mine. My handwriting. “Rylan, if you’re reading this, they’ve framed me. Please believe me. I didn’t betray the pack. I love you. —Lyra” Dated five years ago. The day I was arrested. Rylan never opened it. I close my eyes. So he didn’t know. Or he chose not to know. Footsteps in the hall. Fast. I slip the letter into my jacket and duck under the desk. The door opens. “Alpha,” Kell’s voice. “We have a problem. The border patrol found rogue tracks. Near the old hunting grounds.” Rylan’s voice is flat. “Send a team. Kill on sight.” Kill on sight. Just like they did to me. Kell leaves. Rylan stays. He sits at the desk. I hear him sigh. “I miss you,” he says quietly. To no one. My breath catches. “Lyra,” he whispers. The bond flares. Hot, sudden, violent. Rylan shoots to his feet. “Who’s there?” he snaps. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. He walks around the desk. I see his boots. Stop. Then he crouches. Our eyes meet. For half a second, recognition flashes in his gold eyes. Then it’s gone. “Get out,” he says. His voice is dangerous now. “Before I have you whipped for trespassing.” I crawl out and stand. “Alpha,” I say. Head bowed. He stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. “You dream.” “What?” “At night,” he says. “I dream of a woman with silver eyes. She calls my name. She bleeds.” My blood turns to ice. Those are my dreams too. “Get out,” Rylan says again. I leave. Back in the servant’s quarters, I lock the door and press my back against it. My hands won’t stop shaking. The bond is screaming now. Not pain. Just... memory. And I hate it. Rylan dreamed of me. And I dreamed of him dying. Tomorrow’s the engagement ceremony. I can hear them setting up outside already. Tomorrow, I have to decide. Do I let him live long enough to remember why I was framed? Or do I let him bleed for what he did? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.