The Luna He Lost: Alpha's Endless Regret

Lyra

"I'll bond her with me."

The hall erupted into chaos. My eyes widened as I looked at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean by you'll bond her?!" I could hear Helena angrily shout. "She's a fucking murderer! She drugged you, climbed onto your bed, and even killed your Luna!"

However, he ignored all of their words-even his mother's.

"From this day forward," he declared while coldly looking at everyone. "Lyra will be bound to me as Luna of the Crescent Moon Pack."

"You're crazy..." I whispered, my chest tightening as a chill spread down to my spine.

He let out a cold laugh. "You badly wanted to be my Luna right? Now, you're my Luna. A title you don't deserve."

It had been three years since that night-three years since everything was changed.

I become Alpha Kyle's Luna.

And I was labeled as whore, a murderer, and the name Luna-the title I had once longed for-became a shackle for me. It was no longer an honor; it was a chain I couldn't escape. A cruel joke that fate had on me.

I lived like a shadow inside this pack. Whenever I go out, the pack would look at me in disgust, curse me heavily for killing the Alpha's Luna, throwing rotten eggs at me...there was no time that I wouldn't get laughed at for being the Luna.

Never as Kyle speak to me after that day. We shared a house, but he lived as though I didn't exist. He'd pass by me in the hall without a glance, his presence cold and commanding, he'd just watch from the shadows whenever I get mocked at.

Yet every time I thought he would finally release me, he didn't.

I let out a mocking laugh. Right. He wanted me to suffer. He wanted me to pay the price of killing his Luna.

Although we have been bonded, he never marked me.

I mean, how could he mark the woman who killed his Luna?

During the three years, the only thing that kept me sane was music. Late at night, when the moonlight slipped through the window, I'd sit by the piano-the one he used to play when we were younger-and let my hands wander.

Through music, I can let out the voice that I had been trying to hold back. A voice that the whole world tried to shut whenever I tried to defend myself.

It was my secret haven. A way of my escape.

I thought this dull life would continue for another year, not until a message came.

It was from Kyle.

'Come to my birthday banquet tonight. Wear something nice.'

For a moment, I just stared at the message, my heart thudding painfully.

He hasn't spoken to me in months. Whenever he sees me, his face is filled with disgust.

So, why now?

I typed a reply, hesitated, then deleted it. Maybe... maybe this was something. Maybe for once, he will finally recognize me.

So, I went.

I spent the rest of the day in the servants' quarters, sewing a small leather-bound notebook with my own hands. Inside, I wrote the music I'd composed in secret. I didn't sign it-just pressed the silver treble symbol on the first page. It was the only thing of myself I had left to give.

When evening came, I put on the dress the maids had once mocked me for wearing-a soft gray gown that no one else touched anymore. My wolf stirred weakly inside me, uneasy, but I ignored her.

When I got there, the hall was glowing with laughter, music, the scent of foods-the warm atmosphere I hadn't felt in years.

As soon as I got there, everyone turned their heads to me. Their smiles had been replaced with a frown and disgust as they whispered each other sharp words that I could hear.

"Why is she here?"

"Fuck, such a mood killer. Who invites that murderer here?"

"She still has the nerve to show her face?"

And there I saw him.

At the head of it was Kael, who was sitting, filled with authority and dominance.

My heart stumbled. The Alpha of the Moonfang pack, my mate, looked devastatingly majestic in his black attire. His golden eyes glinted as he raised his goblet.

And in his arms...was another woman.

Rhea Harper.

The late Luna's younger sister.

Her delicate fingers rested on his chest as she laughed softly, tilting her head toward him. It was a dagger straight to my heart seeing this scene.

I froze, every breath shallow. My gift box slipped slightly in my trembling hands.

"Oh, look who decided to show up," I heard Rhea say, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her voice dripped with mockery. "The murderer Luna herself."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Rhea," Kyle's tone was low-a warning-but she ignored it.

"What's that?" she sneered, pointing at the box in my hands. "A gift? How sweet. Did you carve it between prison breaks?"

My throat burned. "It's not for you," I whispered despite the tremors of my voice.

She laughed, tossing her hair. "Of course not. It's for him, isn't it? You think he would accept a gift from a murderer? A slut who climbed her way to become the Luna?"

"You used Kyle's number to text me..." I pressed my lips together. The last fragile piece of pride I'd been holding on to, had crumbled.

Rhea laughed, tilting her head. "My bad, I thought I was using my own when I did that."

When I look at Kyle, he just looks at me coldly, and doesn't deny it.

Right. I let out a bitter laugh. What should I expect? I spun on my heel, desperate to escape from their mocking stares, my chest tightening with shame. How could I be so foolish as to think that it was him who texted it? That he want to see my presence at his birthday party?

As I hurriedly walked away, a sudden grip on my hand made me stumble. I looked up, expecting Kyle, but it wasn't him. It was a stranger, a drunk stranger whose eyes were looking at me with pure malice, deeply hiding the lust in them.

"Where are you going, little Luna?" he slurred. "Stay and dance with me." His grip tightened while caressing my hands, sending shivers down my spine.

"Let go!" I tried to pull away, panic rising as I looked at him in disgust.

"Aw, don't be shy-"

A low growl split the air.

The sound was primal, commanding enough to silence the hall.

Kyle.

His eyes glowed red again-the same way they had three years ago-and before I could process it, he was in front of me.

The drunken stranger released me instantly, stepping back in terror.