The Alpha's Hidden Luna

“Never go into the woods.” Lena had heard those words so many times that, by the age of ten, they had become less of a warning and more of a fact of life. The woods were there. She was not supposed to go into them. That was all. At least, that was what Mara expected her to believe. Lena sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter, swinging her bare feet against the cupboard while Mara unpacked groceries. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the window over the sink, illuminating the dust floating lazily through the air. Beyond the glass, the fields stretched toward the forest. It was enormous. Even from their house, several miles away, Lena could see the dark wall of trees covering the hills on the other side of the valley. During summer, the forest was deep green. In autumn, it turned copper and gold. In winter, the bare branches made it look almost skeletal. Lena had always thought it was beautiful. She had also always wondered why Mara hated it. “Why can't I go in there?” Mara didn't look up. “Because I said so.” Lena frowned. “That isn't a reason.” “It is when you're ten.” “That's stupid.” Mara finally glanced at her. “You're getting very brave lately.” “I am brave.” “You cried when Thomas tried to teach you how to ride a bicycle.” “That was because he let go.” “He was standing three feet away.” “He said he wouldn't let go.” Mara's mouth twitched. “That sounds like Thomas.” Lena smiled, but her question remained. She looked toward the window. “What is in there?” “Trees.” “Mum.” “Animals.” “You let me go into the fields.” “The fields aren't the woods.” “What's the difference?” Mara's hands stopped moving. It was only for a second, but Lena noticed. Her mother was always doing things like that. Pausing at strange moments. Going quiet when Lena asked certain questions. Looking toward the forest as though she expected something to emerge from between the trees. “Lena.” The change in Mara's voice made her stop swinging her feet. “Yeah?” “You don't go into the woods.” “But—” “Ever.” Lena stared at her. Mara put the grocery bag down and crouched in front of her. She wasn't annoyed anymore. She was serious. “Do you understand?” Lena nodded. “Why?” Mara hesitated. For several seconds, she seemed to be deciding what she could safely say. Then she reached up and brushed Lena's hair away from her face. “Because there are things in there that aren't meant to find you.” Lena blinked. “What things?” “Things that don't belong here.” “Like monsters?” Mara's expression tightened. “No.” The answer came too quickly. Lena noticed. “Then what?” “Enough questions.” “But—” “Promise me.” Lena looked past her toward the forest. The trees were distant and perfectly still. “Promise what?” “That you'll never go into those woods.” Lena sighed. “Fine.” “Say it properly.” “I promise.” Mara watched her for another moment before nodding. “Good.” The conversation ended there. Lena thought about it for the rest of the day. She thought about it while playing outside, while eating dinner, and while Thomas helped her with her homework. She thought about it again when she stood at her bedroom window before bed. The forest was barely visible in the darkness. Lena pressed her forehead against the cold glass. For a moment, she thought she saw something between the trees. Two pale points of light. She blinked. They were gone. “Lena?” She jumped. Mara stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” “Come away from the window.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” “You always say that.” “And you always argue.” Lena climbed into bed. Mara pulled the blanket over her and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” Mara turned toward the door. “Mum?” She stopped. “Yeah?” “Are there monsters in the woods?” Mara's hand tightened around the doorframe. “No.” Lena watched her. Mara hesitated before adding quietly, “Not monsters.” Then she closed the door. Lena lay awake for a long time. She never forgot those words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Twelve years later, Lena still hadn't gone into the woods. She had never even come particularly close. It wasn't that she was frightened. At least, that was what she told herself. The rule had simply been part of her life for so long that breaking it had never seemed worth considering. There were plenty of other places to go. The town had everything she needed: a grocery store, two cafés, a pharmacy, a small pub, a library, and a petrol station that somehow remained open at all hours despite rarely having more than a handful of customers after midnight. Lena had grown up there. It was quiet. Ordinary. Safe. She came home just after eight that evening carrying a paper bag of groceries against her hip. “Mum?” “In here.” Lena followed the voice into the kitchen. Mara sat at the table with a cup of tea between both hands. At sixty-one, she had changed very little. Her dark hair had begun to silver at the temples, and there were more lines around her eyes than Lena remembered from childhood, but she still carried herself with the same quiet strength. Thomas was in the living room watching television. “Dinner's in the fridge,” Mara said. “I ate at work.” “You can't live on coffee.” “I also had a sandwich.” “That doesn't make it better.” Lena smiled. “Hello to you too.” Mara's expression softened. “How was work?” “Busy. Mrs. Harper tried to return a toaster she bought six years ago.” “Did she have the receipt?” “She had a handwritten note that said ‘broken.’” Mara laughed. Lena began putting away the groceries. Outside, rain tapped against the kitchen window. Then it grew heavier. Lena glanced toward the glass. The fields were disappearing beneath the darkness, and beyond them the forest was little more than a black shape against the sky. She remembered being ten. There are things in there that aren't meant to find you. “You know,” Lena said, “I never actually understood why you were so serious about the woods.” Mara went still. Lena turned. “What?” “Nothing.” “You just stopped moving.” “I did not.” “You did.” Mara sighed. “You've always been observant.” “You raised me.” “That might explain the stubbornness.” Lena smiled and turned back toward the sink. Then she heard it. A whisper. Lena. She froze. The plate in her hand nearly slipped. “What?” Mara looked up. “I didn't say anything.” Lena frowned. “I thought you called me.” “I didn't.” The kitchen became strangely quiet. Then the voice came again. Lena. This time, there was no mistaking it. It had come from outside. Lena looked toward the window. “Mum…” Mara was already standing. “Don't.” Lena stared at her. “What?” “Stay away from the window.” The fear in her mother's voice was unmistakable. Lena's stomach tightened. “Why?” “Just do what I'm asking.” “Mum, someone is outside.” “No.” “You heard it.” “I didn't hear anything.” “You did.” Mara's face had gone pale. Lena had never seen her look like that. Not when Thomas had been taken to hospital after his accident. Not when Lena had broken her arm as a teenager. This was something different. This was fear. Real fear. Lena slowly turned back toward the window. The rain blurred the glass, but she could make out the fields beyond it. Nothing moved. Then, at the edge of the forest, something shifted. A shadow. Lena stepped closer. “Lena.” She stopped. “Don't go near it.” “There's someone there.” “There isn't.” “How do you know?” Mara didn't answer. Lena stared through the glass. The shadow was gone. Maybe it had been a tree moving in the wind. Maybe she had imagined it. Then the voice came again. Clearer. Closer. Not Lena. A different name. “Elara.” The cup in Mara's hand slipped. It struck the floor and shattered. Lena turned sharply. Her mother was staring at her. Not confused. Not surprised. Terrified. “What did it call me?” Mara's lips parted. For several seconds, she couldn't speak. Then she whispered, “Nothing.” Lena stared at her. “You know that name.” “No.” “You do.” “Lena—” “Who is Elara?” Mara looked toward the window. Then back at her daughter. And something about that look made Lena's stomach drop. Her mother wasn't afraid of what was outside. She was afraid of what had found Lena. “Go upstairs,” Mara said. Lena didn't move. “Mum.” “Now.” “Why?” “Because I need you to trust me.” “I do trust you.” “Then go upstairs.” Lena hesitated. A howl rolled across the valley. The sound was deep and powerful, unlike any dog or wild animal Lena had ever heard. Every hair on her arms rose. And beneath the fear, something else stirred. Recognition. She didn't understand it. She only knew that the howl felt familiar, like a memory she couldn't quite reach. Lena looked toward the dark window. The forest waited beyond the fields. For twenty-two years, she had obeyed one simple rule. Never go into the woods. She had never questioned why. But standing in that kitchen, listening to something hidden among the trees call her by a name she had never heard before, Lena realized something she couldn't explain. The rule had never been about keeping her out of the woods. It had been about keeping the woods from finding her. And now they had.