The Rise of The Slave Luna

Chapter 3

Vaelora’s POV

For the first time in my life, I dare to resist.

I fall to my knees before Gaga, my hands trembling as I reach for her, desperate to make her understand what she is about to take from me.

“Please,” I beg, my voice barely rising above a whisper. The cold has left my throat raw, but I force the words out, refusing to give up even when I can barely breathe through my tears. “Please, don't take this from me. I haven't done anything wrong. I didn't steal anything from anyone.”

Morvella's face hardens at my pleas.

“Shut your mouth!” she snaps before striking me across the face.

The blow sends me stumbling sideways, but I scramble back onto my knees. My cheek burns, and tears blur my vision, yet I cannot bring myself to stop begging.

This is my mate we are talking about. The first person who might finally give me a chance to escape the life I have endured.

I cannot lose him before I even have the chance to know him.

Gaga watches me silently, her expression unreadable. For a fleeting moment, I search her face for a trace of compassion, hoping she might remember that I am a person with a heart, not an object that can be passed from one person to another.

But I know better than to expect kindness from her.

She needs Morvella's favour to continue occupying this part of the pack, and I am nothing more than a helpless girl standing between her and the woman who holds power over her future.

“I'm sorry, child,” she murmurs.

Her apology hurts more than I expect. Perhaps it is because some foolish part of me has been hoping that someone, anyone, will finally stand up for me.

Instead, Gaga turns back to her work.

Mate bond theft is a crime, one of the reasons witches are no longer welcome among the werewolf packs. The practice is forbidden because a mate bond is sacred, a connection bestowed by the Moon Goddess herself. To steal it is to interfere with something no ordinary wolf has the right to control.

Yet Gaga continues to practise her craft in secret, careful to hide her activities from the Lycan King. As long as she has people like Morvella protecting her, she believes she can continue without facing the consequences.

And tonight, I am the price of their arrangement.

I watch in horror as Gaga approaches me and reaches for my hair. Before I can pull away, she tears a strand free, making me wince. She then turns to Elarisse and takes a strand of her hair as well.

The ritual is nothing like I imagined. There are no elaborate preparations or hours of chanting. Gaga simply closes her eyes, holding our hair between her fingers as her voice rises into a series of strange incantations.

The words seem to crawl beneath my skin. I try to reach for my wolf, desperate for the comfort of her presence, but the moment I do, I feel something tightening around the bond that connects us to the prince. It is as though invisible fingers are pulling at something deep inside my chest, tearing away a part of me that I cannot protect.

I clutch my chest and struggle to breathe. Then, just as suddenly as it begins, everything falls silent.

“It's done,” Gaga announces.

I stare at her, waiting for her to take back those words, waiting for her to admit that she has failed. But she simply drops the strands of hair into a small bowl and turns towards Morvella.

I reach for my wolf, but a terrible stillness settles inside me, and my heart begins to pound.

No, this cannot be happening.

I reach for her again, desperately searching for the familiar presence that has always lived beneath my skin, but I find only an unbearable silence.

My wolf has gone quiet.

“Are you sure?” Morvella asks, studying Gaga's face.

The witch gives her an offended look. “Have I ever done something like this and had it fail?”

I bite down on my lower lip, trying to contain the sob rising in my throat, but the tears continue to fall. My fingernails dig into the old rug beneath my knees, and I grip it so tightly that my hands begin to ache.

I cannot stay here anymore.

I cannot remain in a place where people can take everything from me and expect me to kneel in gratitude for whatever scraps they leave behind.

My chance at freedom has just been snatched from me, and I have no idea how I am supposed to survive the knowledge that the one person who might have saved me could now belong to someone else.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears keep coming.

But Morvella is not finished with me.

“I need you to cage her wolf,” she says.

My head snaps up.

What?

I stare at her in disbelief, certain that I have misunderstood. She has already taken my mate bond, and now she wants to take my wolf as well.

“Stepmother, please.” I press my palms together, my entire body trembling. “Please, don't take her away from me. She's all I have. I swear I won't tell anyone about her. Nobody has to know that she exists.”

Morvella does not even spare me a glance.

“No one must ever know that she has a wolf,” she tells Gaga, as though I am not kneeling before her, begging for the last piece of myself to be spared.

A small movement catches my attention, and I turn towards Elarisse.

She is smiling.

It is not a broad smile, but a satisfied little smirk that tells me everything I need to know about how much she enjoys watching me suffer.

“Does this mean the Lycan Prince will recognise me as his mate now?” she asks, her voice suddenly bright with anticipation.

“Yes,” Morvella answers without hesitation. “As it should have been from the beginning.”

I lower my head, and something inside me finally breaks.

I want to hate them. I want to scream until the walls shake and demand that the Moon Goddess explain why she has allowed my life to become such a cruel joke.

But I have no strength left to fight.

By the time we return home, I feel nothing.

The cold has numbed my body, and whatever remains of me feels just as lifeless. I can barely feel my fingers, and my face still throbs from Morvella's slap, but even the pain seems distant now.

I cannot feel my wolf.

I cannot feel the bond I had only just discovered.

I cannot feel the hope that carried me back to the packhouse earlier tonight.

I feel nothing.

Morvella and Elarisse chatter beside me as though we have merely returned from an ordinary evening outing. Their voices drift around me, their excitement growing as they discuss their journey to the Province and what awaits them there.

I barely listen.

“The floor needs scrubbing,” Morvella announces as soon as we enter the house. “The kitchen needs cleaning, and I want every dish washed before you go to sleep. I expect everything to be spotless by morning.”

I stare at her for a moment, wondering whether she remembers that I am her husband's daughter, or whether she has completely forgotten that I am enough to feel pain.

“Yes, Stepmother,” I force myself to answer.

My voice sounds unfamiliar, almost hollow, as though it belongs to someone else.

“Come, Elarisse,” Morvella says, already turning away from me. “Tomorrow, we will go to the Province. Your destiny is waiting for you.”

Elarisse follows her mother, and neither of them looks back.

I remain standing in the hallway, watching them disappear upstairs. So I turn towards the kitchen, pick up the cleaning cloth, and begin the work they have left for me.

---

I must have passed out sometime during the night because the next thing I remember is waking with a start, my heart racing as though someone has called my name.

For a moment, I cannot remember where I am. My body aches from sleeping in an uncomfortable position, and the cold floor beneath me has seeped into my bones. When I try to sit up, pain pulls across my back, reminding me of the wounds that have barely begun to heal.

I press a hand against the floor and slowly rise to my feet.

The house is unusually quiet.

There is no sound of Morvella's footsteps, no sharp voice ordering me to hurry, and no sign of Elarisse complaining about something I have failed to do. The silence feels strange, almost unsettling, because I have grown so accustomed to living at the mercy of their moods.

I walk towards the nearest window and peer outside. The family carriage is gone.

For a few seconds, I simply stare at the empty space where it usually stands, hoping that my eyes are deceiving me.

Then the truth settles over me.

They have gone to the Province.

Morvella could not even wait to take Elarisse to meet the Lycan King. My chest tightens until breathing becomes difficult.

I stumble backwards and sink to the cold floor, wrapping my arms around myself as the tears begin to fall.

I try to cry quietly, pressing my hand over my mouth because I have spent so many years learning that even my tears can anger the people around me. But there is no one here to hear me now, and that somehow makes the loneliness worse.

I do not know how long I sit there, weeping.

All I know is that I am tired.

I am tired of being hated for things I have not done, tired of apologising for simply existing, and tired of hoping that someone will eventually look at me and see a person worthy of love.

I allow myself to wonder whether anything would have been different if my father had been here.

Would he have stopped Morvella from taking me to Gaga? Would he have defended me when Elarisse accused me of stealing her mate? Would he have looked at me and remembered that I am his daughter, too?

Perhaps I will never know.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand and look around the empty room.

I cannot remain here.

I cannot allow Morvella to keep taking pieces of me until there is nothing left.

I have to leave.

I can't stay here anymore.