Black Luna

Chapter 9

The ache in her body was unbearable.

Every bone, every muscle, every inch of skin seemed to scream in agony, as if Alpha Kieran’s punishment had carved itself into her flesh with fire instead of fists. Her arms felt heavy, her ribs throbbed with each shallow breath, and the raw sting of torn skin still lingered where his grip had been merciless.

Lia lay on the thin cot, her head tilted toward the ceiling where moonlight spilled faintly through the cracks in the stone walls. The silver glow should have brought her peace, but all it did was illuminate the bruises that painted her arms, the scratches across her throat, the faint glisten of dried blood on her hands.

She closed her eyes tightly, tears burning behind her lids.

I should have stayed, she thought bitterly. I should have stayed in my pack.

Her heart twisted as she remembered the jeers, the endless bullying, the cruel names hurled at her by wolves who believed her existence was a stain on their ranks. “Wolfless.” “Cursed.” “Useless.” Words that had haunted her since she was a child.

But as painful as they had been, as sharp as the sting of their scorn had cut, at least she had been alive. At least their punishments had been limited to humiliation, exclusion, and the occasional shove.

Here, under Alpha Kieran’s roof, she had discovered a new kind of suffering—one that bled her spirit dry and left her body begging for death.

Her hand moved slowly, gingerly touching the tender bruises along her ribs. She winced, biting back a cry. Each throb of pain was a reminder of the brutality he had inflicted, a reminder of how far she had fallen into his snare.

Maybe I should have stayed where I belonged. Even if I was nothing to them, at least I wasn’t… this.

Her breath shuddered, breaking in her throat as the weight of regret crushed her chest.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different choice—a life where she had never left with Kieran, never walked into his den, never believed even for a moment that salvation could come from someone like him. Maybe she’d still be cleaning scraps in the corner of the packhouse, ignored and belittled, but she wouldn’t be broken and bleeding on a cot, waiting for the next wave of cruelty to fall upon her.

Her thoughts spiraled so deep that at first, she barely heard it—the sound of knuckles tapping gently against wood.

Knock. Knock.

Her eyes flew open, her body stiffening with terror. Her heart thundered against her bruised ribs, breath catching in her throat.

He’s here.

The thought sent ice racing down her spine. Was this it? Was this the moment he came back to finish what he started? To crush the last pieces of her until nothing remained?

Her trembling fingers gripped the blanket as if it could shield her. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying it was a mistake, a servant passing by, anyone but him.

The knock came again, firmer this time.

“Lia?”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant. Definitely not his.

Lia’s eyes shot open, surprise mingling with confusion. It wasn’t Alpha Kieran.

The door creaked slowly, carefully opening. A sliver of dim torchlight spilled into the room, followed by a small, slender figure.

A girl—no older than Lia herself, perhaps even younger—stepped into the chamber. She wore the plain brown tunic of an omega, her dark hair pulled back in a loose braid, strands falling across her delicate face. Her eyes, wide and cautious, flickered toward Lia and immediately softened with pity.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

Lia’s throat worked, struggling to form words. Her body was still tense, braced for pain, for cruelty, for another command to kneel or bleed.

But instead, the omega girl closed the door quietly behind her and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Lia blinked, the words slow to register. Her lips parted, her voice raspy from both fear and the lingering ache in her throat. “Who… who are you?”

The girl took a cautious step closer, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “My name is Elara,” she said softly. “I’m one of the omegas here. I… I heard what happened to you.”

Shame and anger burned through Lia at once. Of course she heard. Everyone must have heard. She turned her face away, her voice bitter. “Then you know I’m nothing but a pawn. A cursed wolf with no wolf.”

Elara hesitated, then shook her head quickly. “No. That’s what they say, but I don’t believe it. I… I’ve seen the way you endure. The way you survive. Wolves with true strength aren’t the ones who win battles easily, Lia. They’re the ones who stand back up after every fall.”

The words hit something deep inside Lia, something fragile that threatened to break. No one had ever spoken to her like that. Not in her old pack. Not here. Not anywhere.

Her voice trembled. “Why are you here? If Alpha Kieran finds you talking to me—”

“I know,” Elara interrupted, her eyes darting nervously toward the door. “But I couldn’t just do nothing. I saw the way he treated you. And I know… I know he’ll only keep making it worse.”

A lump formed in Lia’s throat. Her fingers tightened on the blanket, torn between gratitude and fear. “Then why risk it?”

Elara’s gaze softened even more, and for the first time, Lia saw not pity but something else—understanding. Pain that mirrored her own.

“Because I know what it’s like,” Elara whispered. “To be powerless. To be treated like nothing. I may not have your scars, but I carry my own. And if I can ease even a fraction of yours… then the risk is worth it.”

For the first time in days, warmth spread through Lia’s chest, fragile and fleeting but real. Her eyes stung as tears threatened again, but this time, they weren’t born of despair.

“Elara,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know what to say.”

The omega gave a faint, almost shy smile. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let me help you.”

She moved closer, carefully kneeling beside the cot. From the pocket of her tunic, she pulled a small vial of herbal salve, its scent sharp but soothing. She uncorked it and dipped her fingers in, then gently reached for Lia’s bruised arm.

“May I?” she asked.

Lia hesitated, then nodded.

The first touch of the salve against her skin stung, but Elara’s hands were gentle, careful, almost reverent. She worked in silence, applying the balm to bruises and cuts, her brow furrowed with concentration as if every mark on Lia’s body was a wound she bore herself.

Lia watched her, overwhelmed. She had braced for cruelty, for indifference, but instead found kindness in the most unexpected place. A stranger, an omega girl with no power, was offering her the one thing she thought she’d lost forever—compassion.

As Elara worked, Lia’s thoughts drifted. Maybe… maybe not everyone here was cruel. Maybe the Goddess hadn’t abandoned her completely. Maybe there was still a reason to hold on.

When Elara finally finished, she sat back on her heels, wiping her hands against her tunic. “It’s not much,” she admitted, “but it should ease some of the pain.”

Lia swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “It’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”

The omega’s eyes softened again. “Then you’ve been surrounded by the wrong people all your life.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Lia managed a faint smile. Small, fragile, but real.

And in that moment, despite the bruises, despite the pain, a spark of hope flickered to life inside her chest.

She didn’t know how long it would last. She didn’t know if Alpha Kieran would crush it tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.

But for tonight, she wasn’t completely alone.

And that was enough.