THE BIKER KING’S HIDDEN LUNA

**Chapter 2**

**Luna's POV**

The laughter started quietly in the crowd. Low murmurs and poorly hidden smiles spreading from the front rows backward. Someone near the wall didn't even bother hiding it at all.

I turned to Damien one more time but he looked away.

That was his answer.

Something inside me went very quiet.

I rolled my shoulders back, dropped my bag where I stood and walked toward the three of them.

Garrett cracked his knuckles. Cole shifted his weight forward, already reading my stance. Wraith didn't move at all, which was the most dangerous sign of the three.

I knew I was going to lose. My wolf was already fractured from the rejection bond, already fading, the pain of it still moving through me in slow awful waves. I had nothing close to full strength right now and every person in this room knew it.

But I was not going to beg. I was not going to turn around and look at Damien again and ask him to stop this. I was not going to give Selene the satisfaction of watching me refuse and walk out of here with my tail between my legs while she smiled at my back.

If they wanted a show then I was going to give them something they actually remembered.

Garrett came first.

He was fast for his size but I had watched him train for three years and I knew he favored his right side. I ducked under his first swing and drove my elbow hard into his ribs. He grunted and the crowd went quiet for one second.

Then Cole caught me from behind.

His arms locked around mine and lifted me clean off the ground. I threw my head back and connected with his nose. He swore loudly and his grip slipped just enough for me to twist sideways but not enough to break free before Garrett recovered and hit me across the face.

The floor came up fast.

I hit it hard, the impact rattling through my already cracked ribs from the rejection bond tearing through me. I lay there for one second and the hall was completely silent except for the ringing in my ears.

I got back up slowly, with both hands on the floor first, then my knees, then upright.

My lip was split. I could taste blood. The room around me swam slightly at the edges.

Selene stood off to the side with her hands folded in front of her, watching with that same soft expression. Like she was witnessing something mildly unfortunate and cared.

Wraith stepped in.

He was methodical and silent, everything the other two weren't. He didn't rush. He read me, waited for my weight to shift wrong, and then he moved. One strike to my side where the ribs were already screaming. Another to my shoulder that sent me spinning. When I went down the second time I felt something crack and knew immediately it wasn't just bruising anymore.

I got up again.

The crowd had gone fully silent now.

Even the laughter had stopped.

I don't know what they had been expecting but it wasn't this. Me, broken and bleeding and still getting back up every single time, refusing to stay down on the floor of a packhouse I had called home for three years.

By the time it was over I could barely stand.

My ribs screamed with every breath. My left eye was swelling shut. There was blood running down the side of my face from somewhere above my hairline and my wolf was so quiet inside me I had to concentrate to feel her at all.

Selene started clapping slowly.

The sound of it echoed in the silence.

"Thank you, Luna." Her voice was warm and gracious like I had done her an enormous favor. "The pack won't forget that."

I looked at her through my good eye.

Then I looked at Damien.

He was watching me. Something moved behind his eyes for just a fraction of a second. I didn't care what it was. Guilt, discomfort, regret. It was three years too late and it changed absolutely nothing.

The love I'd carried for him since I was nineteen years old turned over in my chest and died quietly.

What replaced it was something harder and colder. Hate.

I turned away from both of them.

Picked up my bag from the floor with shaking hands.

And walked out of the Silver Crescent Packhouse for the last time.

***

I drove until my hands stopped shaking and then I kept driving.

I didn't have a destination. I just needed distance, miles between me and that hall, between me and the sound of Selene's slow clapping, between me and the image of Damien looking away when I needed him to speak.

My ribs made every breath painful. I gripped the steering wheel and breathed in shallow pulls, focusing on the road ahead.

An hour passed. Then another.

The roads narrowed and the lights disappeared and eventually there was nothing around me but dark trees on both sides and empty highways stretching ahead.

Then the engine coughed.

I looked down at the dashboard.

The car rolled to a slow, defeated stop on the shoulder of the road and the engine cut out completely.

I sat there in the dark silence for a long moment.

Then I couldn't help bursting into laughter. Just laughing made my ribs hurt badly but I didn't care.

Of course this would happen.

Of course the moon goddess hated me so much that she wouldn't even let me escape in peace.

Of course I was chased out of my own home after dedicating my whole life.

They said the goddess didn't have favorites, to hell with that. What else would you call this? Karma?

I pushed the door open and climbed out on unsteady legs. The night air was cold and bit at my split lip and the open cut above my eye. I leaned against the side of the car and looked up at the sky and breathed.

My wolf was barely a whisper now.

I slid down slowly until I was sitting on the cold ground with my back against the car door, my bag beside me, blood drying on the side of my face.

I closed my eyes, ready to accept any wicked fate that'll be given to me.

Then somewhere down the road came the low rumble of engines.

Multiple. Getting closer.

Motorcycles.

I opened my eyes.

Headlights cut through the dark, one after another, a convoy moving fast down the empty highway toward where I sat bleeding on the ground.

I didn't have the strength to stand or move out the way but the engines slowed on their own

Then stopped.

Boots hit the asphalt. One set, unhurried, walked toward me while the others stayed back.

A man crouched down in front of me.

He was tall, even crouching. Heavily built, tattoos running up his neck and jaw, short dark hair and eyes the color of steel in the moonlight. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.

He said nothing for a long moment.

Then after what felt like forever. He spoke quietly, more to himself than to me.

"There you are.”