The Alpha Cursed Luna

Chapter 2 The Cursed Alpha

Two years later

Kael

The knock came too fast—three sharp raps that trembled with barely-contained fear. I didn't need to scent the air to know which of my warriors stood outside my chambers. These days, they all smelled the same around me: sweat, adrenaline, and the acrid tang of terror that clung to their skin like cheap perfume.

"Enter," I growled, the word scraping from my throat like gravel over stone.

The door creaked open to reveal Torin, one of our youngest trackers. His eyes remained fixed on the floorboards, his entire body trembling. Smart boy. He knew better than to meet my eyes right now.

"Well?" I demanded, my claws digging into the armrests of my chair. The ancient oak groaned in protest beneath my grip.

Torin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "We've searched every inch of Silverfang territory, Alpha. The southern marshes, the western cliffs, even the old rogue dens near Blackriver." His throat worked again. "She remains untraceable."

untraceable.

The word slithered through my veins like poison, spreading its venom through every inch of my body. My vision tinted red at the edges as the beast inside me stirred—what little remained of him, anyway.

"Then expand the search," I snarled, rising from my seat. The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my ribs, but I refused to let it show. "Question the border patrols. Threaten the neighboring packs if you must. I want that Omega found—"

A sudden, vicious spasm cut me off mid-sentence. Fire erupted through my chest, so intense my knees nearly buckled. Black spots danced across my vision as I braced myself against the desk, coughing violently. Something warm and metallic filled my mouth.

Torin took an involuntary step forward, his hand outstretched. "Alpha! Should I summon the healer—"

"Get out!"

The door slammed shut behind him with enough force to rattle the weapons mounted on my walls. Only when his frantic footsteps had faded down the hallway did I allow myself to collapse back into the chair, spitting a mouthful of blackened blood into the waste basin beside my desk. The stench of decay filled the room—my stench. Just another gift from the curse that was slowly eating me alive.

I let out a slow breath, Across the chamber, my warped reflection stared back at me from the tarnished mirror. The mighty Alpha Kael, terror of the northern territories, reduced to this. I almost didn’t recognize the bastard staring back.

I looked... hollow. Pale under the skin, like something inside was draining me dry. My sunken cheeks stretched tight over sharpened bones' My chest felt too tight, every breath harder than the last. My fingers shook — small, but steady now. I clenched them into fists. The tremble stayed.

The healer's diagnosis echoed in my skull like a death knell: "She may have been born under a powerful curse especially If she bears the crescent mark. If I’m not mistaken, this curse is called Lunaris Mortem. Rejecting her—your fated mate—has become your death sentence, Alpha. Your wolf is starving without her. Soon, you won’t be able to shift at all."

Doomed to a slow death with no medicine to stop it. No potion. No spell. Nothing but the bond I’d severed.

“The only way to heal is to reconnect with her,” she said.

But I still had to find her.

Pain ripped through my chest again, hot and sharp. I grabbed the edge of the dresser to stay on my feet. My wolf stirred in the back of my mind, snarling and hurt, but silent.

The power that once rolled off me like thunder, was thinning. My wolf's silence only made it worse. My wolf hadn’t surfaced since the rejection—just circled, wounded and furious.

And I deserved it.

A heavier knock sounded at the door—this one familiar.

I didn't bother responding. The door swung open to reveal Joren, my Beta and one of my last remaining loyalists. The grim set of his jaw told me everything before he even spoke.

A heavier knock sounded at the door—this one familiar.

I didn't bother responding. The door swung open to reveal Joren, my Beta and one of my last remaining loyalists. The grim set of his jaw told me everything before he even spoke.

"Adrian's forces are massing at the eastern border," he said without preamble. "Three hundred strong at last count. Possibly more arriving by moonrise."

Of course. The Crescent Moon Pack had been waiting for this moment—circling like vultures as the curse ate me alive from the inside out. Now they'd come to pick at the bones.

Every muscle in my body locked at once. Layla. Even after two years, her name struck like a blade between the ribs, twisting with cruel precision.

"Bring her to me," I ordered, my voice dangerously calm.

"We tried." Joren's nostrils flared. "Her scent trail vanishes at the border. Alpha..." He hesitated, then delivered the killing blow. "It leads straight into Crescent Moon territory."

The implications hit me like a hammer to the chest. If Adrian had gotten to her first...

A savage growl tore from my throat, shaking the glass in the windows. "Mobilize the entire pack. Every warrior, every elder who can still hold a blade. We march at dawn."

Joren hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the southern wing of the compound. "And Selene?"

The reminder was a physical blow. My chosen Luna—heavy with my heir—lay wasting away in the healer's den, her body rejecting the pregnancy as violently as I'd rejected my mate. The Howling Strain, they called it. Another blessing from the Moon Goddess for daring to defy fate's design.

"Double her guard," I said through clenched teeth. "The rest come with me."

As Joren left to carry out my orders, I staggered to the window, pressing my feverish forehead against the cool glass. Beyond the compound walls, my pack moved like shadows through the torchlight—sharpening blades, donning armor, preparing for what might well be our final stand.

All because of one mistake.

One weak, insignificant Omega.

My claws scraped against the stone windowsill, leaving deep gouges in the rock. I didn't know whether I wanted to strangle Layla or beg her for forgiveness. But one thing was certain—

I would find her.

Even if I had to bathe the entire damned forest in blood to do it.

---

Later That Night

The healer's den smelled of bitter herbs and sickness.

I stood in the doorway, watching the rise and fall of Selene's chest beneath the thin blanket. Even in sleep, pain etched lines across her beautiful face. The healer had warned me—each day, the strain worsened. Each day, the life inside her grew weaker.

My hand hovered over her swollen belly, then curled into a fist.

"I have to go," I murmured, though I knew she couldn't hear me.

A floorboard creaked behind me. The healer—an ancient woman with milky eyes—shuffled into the room.

"She won't survive another moon cycle," she said bluntly. "The pup is killing her."

I rounded on her, my claws unsheathing. "Then do something!"

The old woman didn't flinch. "There is nothing to be done. The Moon Goddess punishes those who break her laws." Her milky eyes bored into mine. "You rejected your true mate. This is the price."

The truth of her words settled over me like a shroud.

Turning on my heel, I stalked from the den, my wolf howling in silent protest. The night air did little to cool the fire burning in my veins. Somewhere out there, Layla was alive. And she held the key to my survival—to

my pack's survival.

I would find her.

And this time, I would make sure she never escaped me.