Rise Of The Fallen Luna

Chapter 12

••• Leicia’s POV •••

The morning sun filtered through the clouds as I stepped out of the Whitemaw Tails Pack house one last time. Kyle, Annisa, and the few loyal warriors who still followed me were already waiting by the cars.

The Luna Queen had once again intervened—summoning Matthew and Lydia that morning for “matters of urgent diplomacy”—code for: get out of the way while I reclaim what’s mine.

That gave us just enough time.

Reinald had arrived a few minutes after Matthew and Lydia had left, his presence quiet but commanding as ever. Behind him, a caravan of transport vehicles waited to haul the last of my things to the Dawn Guardians Pack.

Now he stood by one of the trunks, sleeves rolled up, casually directing the loading of boxes like it was just another royal duty. He offered me a small nod as I approached. Behind him, the Omegas from Matthew’s pack hovered uncertainly, unsure whether they should help or stay out of my way. I ignored them.

Good.

Let them be unsure. Let them feel the silence I lived in.

We didn’t waste time. My study was emptied. The medication cabinets restocked—those would be needed at our new home, for my people, not Hilda.

And finally, we left the house where I had never truly lived.

When the black SUV rolled to a stop in front of the Dawn Guardians Pack’s grand entrance, I stepped out and stared.

The gates stood open now—rust polished, the broken lock replaced. Inside, I saw movement.

Familiar movement.

My breath caught.

Omegas—at least a dozen of them—were already there. Not from Whitemaw. These were from Thyrius’ pack. Familiar faces. Kind hands. People who had known my parents, who had watched me grow from a small pup to the Alpha’s daughter. They bowed when they saw me.

“Leicia!” one of them called, running forward, and suddenly I was surrounded.

Not with reverence. Not with pity.

With warmth.

With belonging.

They were sweeping the corridors, polishing old banisters, scrubbing the stained stones in the courtyard.

“Welcome home.”

I was frozen. Not in grief.

In awe.

When King Thyrius offered to help maintain the pack after the m******e and also his warriors to help me move, I wasn’t expecting this.

Bu that warmth, that recognition, didn’t bring tears. It brought clarity. These people remembered who I used to be—who I could be again.

Reinald stood at my side, his presence calm and steady. Kyle, Annisa, and the warriors flanked us as we entered the Dawn Guardians Pack house. The grand doors creaked open, revealing the hall.

My heart stuttered.

“You don’t have to go in first,” Reinald murmured.

“I do,” I replied and braced myself for what was to come.

I took a step forward, and there it was.

The grand hall.

Exactly how it was the last time I walked in.

Exactly where the blood had dried.

Exactly where the promise had been broken.

The polished marble floors gleamed faintly, but the air carried a weight I could never scrub away. My hands curled at my sides, fingers twitching with the ghost of memory. This was the third time. But it still didn’t get easier.

Laughter. Screaming. Silence.

The memory of my mother’s body. The stain of betrayal.

But this time, I didn’t collapse.

It no longer paralyzed me.

I was able to stand tall.

“This is where the new beginning starts,” I said quietly. “Right here.”

The next few minutes passed in movement and commands. Reinald and Kyle oversaw the transport of heavier pieces. Warriors adjusted rugs and couches into place. The scent of sandalwood and pine mingled with effort and dust.

Every item I bought with my own money, transported carefully. My study would sit right where my father’s had been.

The couch from the Whitemaw Tails Pack was lowered into the hall. Kyle smirked as he helped carry it.

“Petty?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Mine.”

Why in the world would he think I would want to take something from that pack that wasn’t mine was beyond me.

Laughter had followed.

Until the front doors slammed open.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“What the hell is going on here?” Matthew’s voice thundered across the grand hall.

I turned slowly.

Matthew stood at the entrance, breathing hard. Beside him, Lydia was dressed sharply—a white power suit with blood-red lipstick, as if she were here to negotiate a hostile takeover.

A performance. As always.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the sight.

The furniture. The books. The couch.

The familiar chandelier from the Whitemaw mansion that now hung in the center of this one.

“This place—what the hell did you do?” Matthew barked.

“You mean my home?” I said quietly. “I’m restoring what was already mine.”

Matthew’s face was flushed with anger, and he scanned the space like a man trying to claim territory.

“Don’t toy with me, Leicia,” he growled. “You took our couch? Our dining sets? Even the money? Eighty percent of the pack’s funds are gone!”

I tilted my head and raised my hand to point at the said couch.

“That couch? I bought it. So did the dining set. And the portraits you’re so concerned about—they were mine. You can find your old furniture rotting in the shed where you left it.”

His face darkened, veins pulsing in his neck.

“You can’t just strip the pack of its funds!” Lydia barked. “It’s theft!”

I tilted my head. “Interesting accusation coming from someone who’s been feasting on those same funds for days. The prenup you signed, Matthew—remember that?” I asked. “Everything I brought into the marriage, I get to take when I leave. That includes the furniture I bought. The funding of your mother’s care, your pack’s debt, your sister’s tantrum? All of that money? Mine. I just collected what’s owed.”

“You—” he snarled, taking a step forward. “I should’ve never married you. It was the worst mistake of my life!”

I walked up to him without flinching.

And slapped him across the face.

The sound cracked through the hall like lightning.

Matthew stumbled back a step, stunned.

“Really, Matthew?” I said softly. “You dare to say that in this room? The same room where you once held my mother’s hand and promised to protect me. The room where she died while you were off playing war hero, returning with another woman in your arms.”

His face turned crimson, but he didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

Good. At least he still had some sense of shame and humiliation.

But his new Luna? Brainless.

Lydia moved quickly, pushing past him. “That’s enough—”

She lunged at me.

But I dodged, stepping sideways with practiced ease. Her palm cut through the air where I’d just been.

She tried again, a growl rising in her throat.

This time I caught her wrist and twisted, sending her stumbling back.

Again. Lunge. Dodge. Counter.

Lydia snarled, lunging between us. “You b***h!”

She came at me fast. But not fast enough.

I side-stepped with practice ease. Her punch missed. I swept her legs, and she crashed to the floor.

She scrambled up, swinging again—I ducked. My elbow caught her ribs. A spin. A kick. I struck, dodged, struck again.

“Stop moving!” she shouted, panting. “Fight properly!”

“This is proper,” I said calmly.

Again. Again. Every strike she threw, I dodged. Every time she reached, I answered with precision.

“You’re slow,” I said, almost bored. “This power suit doesn’t help.”

The frustration in her eyes bloomed, and then she snapped.

Her bones cracked. Her body twisted. But it wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t smooth. Her shift was strained. Labored.

A muddy-brown wolf stood before me, foam around her maw, rage in her eyes.

The room cleared instantly. Warriors stepped back. Kyle shouted, “Leicia!”

But I was already shifting.

My bones melted and reshaped. My paws landed softly against the marble. Belle blinked her golden eyes and gave a small shake of her silver fur.

“Finally,” she purred. “My turn.”

“Don’t hurt her too much,” I told her. “And not in the grand hall. Take her out of here. This place is sacred.”

“I know, I know,” she said, tail flicking. “I’ll just play.”

Then she pounced, and Lydia followed.

She weaved. Ducked. Slipped between columns. Each time Lydia’s wolf snapped at her, Belle would retaliate with a sharp nip to the flank or a quick swipe across the ribs, then jump back.

Out the doors. Down the steps. Into the courtyard.

I watched through Belle’s eyes.

The Omegas and warriors stood frozen. Even Kyle couldn’t keep his expression neutral.

Lydia’s wolf growled, smug now—believing Belle was timid. She charged harder.

“She thinks I’m afraid,” Belle giggled. “She’s so smug. Look at her.”

“She’s stupid,” I replied. “But this isn’t a game, Belle. Control yourself.”

She didn’t know Belle.

No one knew except my family.

Belle loved to play with her prey.

Another lunge. Belle jumped high and landed softly.

Then I felt it before I saw it.

The shift in the air.

The stillness before the storm.

Her body trembled. The playful energy twisted.

Too much bloodlust. Too long toying with prey.

Her aura surged.

“Belle—no!”

But it was too late.

The Alpha aura exploded outward.

Not a whisper. Not a flicker.

But a detonation.