Beta Luna’s Revenge

My Love

Misty stood in the dim laundry room, her hands submerged in soapy water. She thumbed through Donovan's silk shirt, scrubbing at a stubborn stain from the last evening's shifting ceremony. As the smell of fabric softener drifted up, she whispered, “Why couldn’t we stay like this forever, Don?”

She glanced at the framed photo on the wall. It captured a moment when their laughter echoed in the night sky, their arms wrapped around each other.

“Remember that night?” she murmured, staring at the image. “You promised me the stars.”

A shadow passed across her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. She set down the shirt and gripped the edge of the counter, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Misty!” Shayla’s voice rang from the hallway, cutting through her reverie. “Where the hell at emy clothes?!" Misty clenched her teeth, bracing herself against the edge of the counter as she resumed her task. “Just a moment, Shayla,” she called, her voice steady despite the tumult in.

Misty's blood boiled. The playful laughter she once shared with Donovan felt like ash in her mouth.

“I won’t wait forever! Just like Donovan never did." The words echoed in her mind, igniting a new fire within Misty. “Those clothes better be stain free without any rips or shrinkage, Omega” Shayla continued, her tone dripping with superiority.

Misty took a breath, inhaling the scent of detergent mixed with memories, focusing on the rhythm. The sound of Shayla's cackles raised the hairs on Misty's neck. "You're lucky there's a door between us or so help me Goddess ...!" Misty said quietly through gritted teeth. As Misty focused on the shirt, the fabric soft beneath her fingers, but every touch felt like a reminder of what she had lost.

“Am I speaking to a wall?” Shayla called out banging on the laundry room door, causing Misty to jump back in fear of Shayla coming in; or worse yet hearing her snide remark. Despite how much Misty wanted to ring Shayla's neck, she knew she was no match for a warrior of Shayla's caliber. Misty bit her lip, putting on a facade of calm as she balled Donovan's shirt in her hand, squeezing out the excess water. “Just putting the finishing touches, some of the delicate items." Misty responded. " Well hurry it up. Donovan and I have a very important meeting to get to at 2pm. Our laundry better be fresh, folded and put away by noon, or else!" Shayla kicked the door causing Misty to shriek out loud. "Ha. You wimp!" The sound of Shayla’s laughter vibrated throughout the room, grating on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Misty’s fingers clenched around the shirt tighter, her knuckles whitening as she was feeling the frustration boil inside her. The heavy silence that filled the laundry room after Shayla left the area,felt oppressive, and had Misty's pulse quickening.

Misty said a silent prayer to steady herself. “Goddess, help me." Misty took a deep breath, squeezing the shirt tightly in her hands until the fabric crumpled under her grip. After her heart settled and the fear dissipated, anger took over. It surged through her, igniting a fierce resolve. “No more,” she whispered, the words nearly swallowed by the hum of the washing machine. “No more will I let her take what’s mine. I'm tired of that ska k and her tormenting me!" Misty looked around the small room for something, anything she could use as a weapon to get back at Shayla. She spotted a box of itching powder sitting on the shelf, unused from a supply stash after a prank week celebration the warriors played on each other, and unfortunately mostly targeted at he Omegas. A smile flickered across her face, a scheming idea taking root in her mind. Misty retrieved the box, holding it up to the light as if it were a precious gem.

“Just a little sprinkle here, a dash there,” she muttered, envisioning Shayla a flustered mess, squirming in discomfort during one of her ostentatiously orchestrated events. The image of Shayla, eyes wide with embarrassment as everyone watched her fidget uncomfortably, sent a thrill of satisfaction up Misty’s spine.

She carefully opened the box, and sprinkled a bit of the powder into the dryer along with Shayla's intimates. The box lid flopped open as a few grains slipped through her fingers and settled among the delicate fabric. Misty held her breath, her heart pounding as she considered the plan unfolding in her mind. A swift grin spread across her lips, warming her insides with a thrilling anticipation. “Just wait until you feel what it's like to be itching with fear and agitation, Shayla,” she whispered, her voice wrapped in a mix of trepidation and exhilaration. Stylish and aloof, Shayla rarely understood the consequences of her actions—but Misty would make sure her next move ignited a spark of humility.

Misty returned to the task at hand, refocusing on Donovan’s delicates. Each article felt like a part of her heart, threaded with memories. She held up his favorite faded poly-blend blue shirt, the one he wore on their first official date, the one that smelled faintly of his cologne mixed with the fresh out of the wash scent.

“Dancing under the moonlight, just the two of us,” she whispered, letting the recollection wash over her like a soft embrace. She could almost hear his laughter, a melodic sound that once felt like home. “You swore we’d never be apart, Donovan.” Misty clutched the shirt, imagining how he’d beam at her with those vivid emerald eyes, promising they could overcome anything together.

The memory began to twist in her gut. "Well I was young, dumb, and ignorant of the reality." With a deep exhale, Misty tossed the shirt onto the folding table, brushing the thoughts aside. “Not anymore,” she reminded herself, determination stealing the space once filled with yearning. After all of Shayla's intimates dried, Misty stacked the freshly laundered garments into a neat pile, her movements deliberate and measured. With every shirt folded, each crease pressed down, she visualized taking back her power one small act at a time. As she neatly stacked the last lingerie, Misty pictured Shayla's expressive eyes, filled with embarrassment one last time,before she put the basket to the side of the door to take and up to the Beta's apartment.