My Luna is a vampire

Chapter Two

Emma

The boardroom buzzed with tension as we waited for the elders. Word had spread about another werewolf raid, this time leaving behind a devastating number of vampire casualties.

The delicate peace between our species was fraying fast, and this meeting was meant to bring clarity before rumors turned into full-scale war.

A sharp tap-tap-tap echoed beside me. I reached out, covering the restless hand drumming against the table.

"Okay, that’s enough. What’s with you?" I asked Muna.

She blinked innocently, her kohl-rimmed eyes unreadable. "Just testing out the acoustics."

I gave her a look, but she only smiled sweetly and added one last tap. She might have fooled anyone else, but I saw the slight tremor in her hands, the sheen of sweat on her palms.

She was nervous.

"Hey," I murmured, squeezing her fingers. "You’re not here by accident. It'll be fine. Besides, we probably won’t even have to do much."

She rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, but visibly relaxed.

"You’re welcome," I teased as she blew me a dramatic kiss.

That was Muna. Tough exterior, soft heart. She had moved here three years ago from South Korea, struggling to fit into our coven’s rigid hierarchy. Even among vampires, biases ran deep.

The council had assigned me to show her around, and our friendship had formed naturally. Being vampire royalty, my presence had shielded her from some of the worst treatment.

A notification pinged on my phone. I sighed, checking the screen.

Andrew.

"Is that lover boy again?" Muna smirked, tucking a strand of her electric-blue bob behind her ear.

I groaned. "Yes. Checking in on the meeting,

except it hasn’t even started yet."

She snorted. "He’s trying too hard."

She wasn’t wrong. Andrew was nice, attractive, and the s*x wasn’t terrible. But lately, he’d been too attentive, hinting at something more serious. I wasn’t interested in ‘serious.’

I’d managed to deflect the last conversation, but it was only a matter of time before he brought it up again.

I silenced my phone and flipped it face-down.

That was a problem for later.

The room fell silent.

The double doors swung open, and a gloved hand widened the entrance. A towering figure stepped aside as the elders glided in, their hooded capes shrouding their features.

Even beneath the fabric, their alabaster skin gleamed unnaturally. They moved in eerie unison, so weightless they seemed to float.

The energy in the room shifted.

The elders rarely gathered like this. If all of them were here, then the situation was worse than we thought.

They took their seats at the head of the table, the silence stretching so thick it was suffocating.

This was serious.

***

The scale of the attack was far worse than rumors had suggested.

Reports confirmed it was unprovoked, targeting a low-income vampire settlement at the edge of town—Crestwood. Once a thriving area in the ’90s,

Crestwood had crumbled when its industries collapsed, leaving behind run-down apartments and abandoned factories. The only people still living there were those who had no other choice.

And now, many of them were dead.

"I don’t understand," a councilwoman spoke. "Why attack Crestwood? These people weren’t a threat."

Muna had been silent for most of the meeting, but suddenly, she projected footage onto the massive screen at the front of the room.

"I have to warn you," she said, voice tight, "these images are unsettling."

A hush fell as the first images appeared.

Damaged buildings. Scorch marks. Upturned furniture spilling into the streets.

Dark stains on the pavement hinted at the violence that had occurred, but there were no bodies in the images, only the aftermath.

Even without the full picture, the devastation was clear.

The room remained silent, a heavy air of grief settling over us.

Then the video played.

Shaky footage captured by a survivor—blurry figures running, voices calling out in panic, the distant sound of destruction.

I clenched my fists. Even without seeing the worst of it, the fear in those voices would haunt me forever.

"Those bastards did that to innocent people?" I snapped, my voice like a gunshot in the room.

Everyone was ashen, disgust and fury battling in their eyes. Even the elders, who rarely showed emotion, radiated a barely contained rage.

But raw emotion wouldn’t solve this. Not yet. Something in one of the images caught my eye.

"Wait." I stood, pointing at the screen. "Muna, zoom in on that."

She enlarged a small clutched fist—a child's hand, stiff in death. And within it, a fragment of fabric.

A badge? It wasn’t clear, but it was something.

"That certainly looks important," I muttered.

Augustus Finley, one of the council members, nodded. "Any piece of evidence could be crucial. I’ll have the morgue check if that fabric was recovered."

The councilwoman spoke again. "Right now, we’re still collecting survivor reports. But they’re...inconsistent at best."

The elders shifted in their seats. Then, without a word, they exchanged glances.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But I knew what was happening.

They were speaking telepathically.

The rumors were true, then. The elders did communicate in ways the rest of us couldn’t.

"Miss Delacroix?"

The voice was inside my head.

I flinched. My elbow knocked over my paper cup, sending water spilling toward my phone. I snatched it up, dabbing at the screen with the hem of my silk blouse.

"Miss Delacroix?"

This time, the voice had spoken aloud.

I looked up. The elders were watching me.

There was the faintest glimmer of amusement in their expressions.

I shot to my feet, bowing slightly. "Yes, Elder?"

"You’ve shown great insight and potential. We’ve been watching you for some time now."

Wait—what?

I had known my family name put me on the council’s radar, but to hear the elders had been watching me? That was… unsettling.

The elder continued, "Although this should have come at a more joyous time, we want you to play a role in the resolution of this vile act."

My mouth parted in shock.

This wasn’t just about gathering information anymore.

They wanted me involved.

I scrambled for words. "Um, I’d be honored, but I’m not sure—"

A pale hand sliced through the air, cutting me off.

"It is settled, Miss Delacroix. You will be part of the peace team."

My brain stuttered.

What the f**k?