Lycan Prince Claims Luna

The heavy iron door of my prison cell creaked open for the first time in three years. Dawn's pale light filtered through the narrow window at the end of the corridor, making me squint. My heart hammered against my ribs as two guards flanked me, their expressions impassive as they led me up the stone stairs.

The scent hit me first—fresh air, dew on grass, the living forest beyond the pack grounds. Tears stung my eyes. Freedom. After three long years in darkness, I was finally going home.

'Luna Victoria.' Marcus's deep voice sent a shiver down my spine. My mate—my Alpha—stood tall at the dungeon's exit, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the morning light. Beside him stood our son, Dylan, now eight years old. My baby had grown so much.

'Alpha,' I whispered, my voice hoarse from disuse. I instinctively lowered my gaze, the submissive gesture ingrained after years of captivity.

My legs trembled beneath me as I took my first steps toward them. Whether from weakness or fear, I couldn't tell. The stone path felt foreign beneath my bare feet after years of cold concrete.

'You look...' Marcus paused, his eyes sweeping over my gaunt frame, 'better than expected.'

I forced a grateful smile. 'Thank you for releasing me, Alpha. I promise I'll make it up to you and Dylan. I'll be better.'

Dylan shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet my gaze. My heart ached. Three years was an eternity in a child's life. Did he even remember me as his mother?

Marcus placed a possessive hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the pack territory. 'The pack awaits your return, Luna. I've arranged a proper welcome.'

The walk to the pack square was a blur of familiar paths made strange by time. Pack members lined the way, their curious eyes following our procession. Some bowed respectfully, others whispered behind their hands. I clutched Marcus's arm, desperate for stability, for belonging.

The pack square had been transformed. Lanterns hung from trees, tables laden with food stretched across the grass, and a banner reading 'Welcome Home Luna' fluttered in the morning breeze. It was beautiful—a perfect homecoming.

Too perfect.

'Smile,' Marcus murmured, his fingers digging into my waist. 'They need to see their Luna happy to be home.'

I stretched my lips into what I hoped was a convincing smile, even as I noticed the stiffness in his jaw, the forced warmth in his eyes. This was a performance, carefully orchestrated for the pack's benefit.

'Mama,' Dylan said, the word sounding rehearsed. 'We prepared your favorite foods.'

My heart soared at being called 'Mama' again, despite the hollow tone. 'Thank you, sweetheart. I've missed you so much.'

I reached for his hand, but he subtly shifted away, moving to stand beside his father. The rejection stung, but I swallowed my hurt. He needed time. We all did.

The feast passed in a haze of forced smiles and stilted conversations. Pack members approached to welcome me back, their words kind but their eyes wary. What did they believe I had done? What had Marcus told them?

Three days later, I stood at the edge of the ceremonial field, watching Dylan's warrior assessment with pride swelling in my chest. My son moved with grace beyond his years, his small body executing combat forms with precision that drew approving nods from the warrior council.

'He's remarkable,' I whispered to no one in particular, drinking in the sight of my boy.

A strange tingling sensation bloomed at the base of my skull—warm, then hot, like a dormant ember suddenly fanned to life. The mind-link. After three years of silence, the pack bond was reawakening within me.

'—can't believe how easily she's falling for it.' Marcus's voice, clear as day, echoed in my mind.

'She actually believes we want her back.' His laughter, cold and cruel, sliced through me like silver claws.

'Pathetic,' came Dylan's childish voice, an echo of his father's contempt.

My lungs seized. The world tilted. I gripped the wooden fence to keep from collapsing as their words continued to flow through the accidentally opened link.

'How long do we have to keep pretending?' Dylan asked, his voice petulant.

'Not long, son. Just until Amanda returns from her healer's gathering. Then we can put our real plan in motion.'

Amanda? The pack healer? What did she have to do with this?

The mind-link snapped shut as suddenly as it had opened, but the damage was done. The truth lay exposed, ugly and undeniable.

They didn't want me back. This homecoming—this freedom—was just another prison, built of lies instead of stone.

As I watched my son complete his assessment, his father's proud hand on his shoulder, something cold and hard crystallized in my chest. The submissive, grateful Luna who had emerged from that dungeon began to fade, replaced by something else entirely—something with teeth.