The Alpha Claimed His Luna's Killer

"Alpha, please don’t dwell on the past." Angelica’s voice was soft, almost tender, as she approached me with the ceremonial chalice—the symbol of the mark ceremony. The liquid shimmered under the dim light of the room, but my gaze didn’t linger on it. Instead, it stayed fixed on her face, searching for something I couldn’t quite name.

"Dwell?" I let out a low, bitter laugh, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. "Why would I dwell on her? She was nothing. Just an Omega. Her death means nothing to me."

Angelica’s cheeks flushed at my words, a delicate pink spreading across her skin. She was beautiful—there was no denying it. The daughter of Beta Rey Ramos, she had the grace and poise befitting her rank. Her scent, a subtle mix of lavender and vanilla, filled the space between us, but it did nothing to stir me. Not like Kalani’s had.

"Alpha," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she held the chalice out to me. "The night is deep. After we drink, we should rest."

I didn’t take the chalice right away. My eyes remained locked on her, studying her every move, every flicker of emotion on her face. She was nervous, though she tried to hide it. Good. She should be.

Finally, I reached out and took the chalice from her hands. The cool metal pressed against my palm, and for a moment, I hesitated. But only for a moment. I raised it to my lips, my eyes never leaving hers, and drank. The wine was bitter, but I swallowed it without a flinch.

Angelica followed suit, her movements graceful and deliberate. As she drank, I couldn’t help but think of Kalani. Of how she would have laughed at this, at the absurdity of it all. How she would have rolled her eyes and called me a fool. But Kalani was gone, and Angelica was here, standing before me, her scent mingling with the heavy air of the room.

When the chalice was empty, Angelica set it aside and turned to me, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for my waist. "Alpha," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Let me serve you."

Her fingers brushed against my skin, and I felt a surge of something—anger, perhaps, or disgust—rise within me. I didn’t move, didn’t stop her as she began to undo the clasp of my belt. But I didn’t help her either.

I stood there, motionless, as her hands worked. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t Kalani’s touch. Kalani’s hands had been rough from years of hard work, but they had always been warm, always comforting. Angelica’s hands were soft, delicate, but they left me cold.

As she leaned closer, her scent grew stronger, overwhelming. My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of disapproval echoing in the back of my mind. I ignored it, my gaze fixed on the wall ahead, my thoughts drifting back to that night—the night Kalani had been taken from me.

"Alpha," Angelica’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and pleading. Her hands were on my chest now, her breath hot against my skin. "Please, let me…"

I looked down at her, my expression unreadable. She was beautiful, yes, but beauty meant nothing to me. Not anymore. Not after losing Kalani.

"You don’t understand," I said, my voice cold, detached. "This isn’t about you. It never was."

Her eyes widened, confusion and fear flickering in their depths. "Alpha, I—"

"Enough," I cut her off, my voice sharp. "You’ve done your part. Now leave."

She hesitated, her hands still on my chest, her body trembling. But when I didn’t move, didn’t soften my expression, she finally stepped back, her face pale, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Alpha," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I’m sorry."

I didn’t respond. I just turned away, my gaze fixed on the window, on the darkness outside. She stood there for a moment longer, her presence lingering in the room like a ghost. But eventually, she left, her footsteps soft against the floor.

When the door closed behind her, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The room was silent, the air heavy with the weight of everything I’d lost. And for the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone.

"Kalani," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Only the silence, and the ache in my chest that never seemed to go away.