Black Luna

Chapter 11

The night pressed heavy against the stone walls of the pack house. Moonlight spilled through the narrow window of Lia’s small chamber, casting long silver shadows that danced across the floor. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft sound of her uneven breathing. Every shift of her aching body sent waves of pain through her, yet the silence of the room hurt more than her wounds.

Loneliness.

It had always been her truest companion.

She had thought leaving her old pack meant escaping misery, but now she understood that pain had simply taken a new form. Alpha Kieran was no savior—he was a different kind of captor.

Her chest tightened at the thought. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She wanted to claw her way out of this suffocating place, yet her body was too frail to even move freely.

Then came the knock. Soft, tentative, like a bird pecking at a window.

Lia froze, her heart stuttering. No one visited her at night. What if it was Kieran, returning to torment her further? She pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, trembling.

The door creaked open.

“Luna?” came a hushed voice.

Relief washed over her when she recognized the young omega—Cora. The same girl who had tended to her wounds earlier, the one whose kindness had startled her.

Cora slipped inside, carefully shutting the door behind her. She clutched a small bundle wrapped in cloth. “I brought food. You barely ate today, and if you don’t eat, your wounds won’t heal.”

Lia blinked at her, her throat tightening. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered hoarsely. “If he finds out…”

“I know.” Cora moved closer, her small frame tense, her eyes flickering nervously toward the door. “But I couldn’t just leave you like this. You’ll wither away if someone doesn’t care for you.”

The words sliced through Lia’s heart. She wasn’t used to care. Not in her old pack, not here. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Cora placed the bundle on the bed and unwrapped it, revealing a piece of bread, some dried meat, and an apple. Simple food, but to Lia it looked like a feast.

Her stomach growled in betrayal, and heat crept to her cheeks.

“Eat,” Cora urged gently.

Lia hesitated, then reached for the bread with trembling fingers. She tore off a small piece and chewed slowly, each bite tasting like both relief and guilt.

As she ate, Cora pulled a small jar of herbs from her apron. “I also brought something to ease the pain. It’s not much, but it will help.”

She dipped her fingers into the salve and began carefully spreading it over the cuts on Lia’s arms. Lia flinched at the cold touch, but soon a soothing warmth replaced the sting.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lia murmured, her voice breaking. “I’m not your responsibility.”

Cora’s hands stilled for a moment. Then she said softly, “Maybe I want you to be.”

Lia’s breath caught. She lifted her gaze, meeting the omega’s earnest brown eyes. There was no pity there—only sincerity.

Something inside her softened.

For so long, she had carried the weight of rejection, abandonment, and pain. But here, in this small moment, someone looked at her like she wasn’t a curse. Like she mattered.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back.

“Why are you so kind to me?” she whispered. “Everyone else… they look at me like I’m filth.”

“Because I know what it’s like,” Cora admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I may not be wolfless, but I’m an omega. No one cares for us. We’re the bottom, always overlooked, always disposable. I’ve lived my life being invisible. But you…” She paused, as though gathering courage. “You carry pain openly, yet you still endure. That’s strength, Luna.”

The word Luna made Lia’s chest ache. She wasn’t worthy of such a title, not when Kieran himself spat at her existence. And yet hearing it from Cora felt like a balm she didn’t know she needed.

Lia lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting in the blanket. “If I’m strong, why do I feel so… broken?”

Cora gave her a small, sad smile. “Even broken things can shine. Sometimes more than whole ones.”

The silence that followed was not heavy, but warm. For the first time in years, Lia felt something she had forgotten—comfort.

But beneath that comfort lingered the shadow of danger.

Her mind drifted back to the wizard in the forest—Varian—and his haunting words about her hidden power and the truth of her destiny. She hadn’t told anyone. Yet the secret burned inside her, pressing against her chest.

Against her better judgment, she whispered, “Cora… can you keep a secret?”

The omega blinked, startled. “Of course.”

Lia hesitated, then leaned closer. “In the woods… I met someone. He said things about me. About what I could become. That I’m not as powerless as I seem.”

Cora’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. “Who? What did he say?”

“I… I can’t tell you everything,” Lia said quickly, fear prickling her skin. “But he knew things about me. Things no one else does.”

Cora frowned, clearly concerned. “Luna, if anyone hears of this—especially Alpha Kieran—you’ll be in danger. He doesn’t like secrets.”

“I know,” Lia whispered. “That’s why I’m telling only you.”

The weight of her trust settled between them, heavy and fragile.

Cora’s eyes softened. She placed a gentle hand over Lia’s. “Then I’ll guard it. Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

The words nearly broke Lia all over again. For years she had begged silently for just one person to stand by her. And now, maybe, she had found one.

Yet neither of them noticed the shadow that lingered outside the slightly cracked door.

Another omega, tasked with serving higher-ranked wolves, had paused on her way through the corridor. She caught fragments of the hushed conversation—words like woods, secret, danger. Her eyes narrowed, curiosity and fear mixing in her chest. She knew Alpha Kieran demanded obedience and honesty. And if Lia was hiding something…

The spy slipped away silently into the dark hall, leaving the two girls inside oblivious to the danger that had just been planted.

Inside the room, Lia allowed herself, for the first time, to lean into someone’s presence.

Cora finished tending her wounds, then sat quietly by her bedside. “Rest now,” she said softly. “I’ll stay here for a little while. Just so you’re not alone.”

Lia closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

For once, she didn’t feel like cursed baggage. For once, she felt like someone mattered enough to stay.

And yet, as she drifted into a fragile sleep, she could not shake the unease lingering in her chest—because deep down, she knew peace in this pack never lasted.