The Scarred Luna: Taming The Ruthless Alpha

A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness.

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move.

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me.

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist.

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds.

A cry escaped me despite myself.

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves.

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain.

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival.

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me.

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food.

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands.

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now.

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer.

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time.

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace.

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin.

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning.

And there was something else. The worst part.

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf.

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone.

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me.

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation.

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back.

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat.

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her.

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress.

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force.

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore.

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle.

Bells.

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched.

My father.

The one who had ignored me my entire life.

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him.

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his blood.

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow.

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer.

As for me, I remained hidden.

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place.

Then I stopped dreaming.

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under.

...

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone.

His face was closed off, hard as stone.

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation.

For the first time in decades, he had lost.

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack.

Worse still, to Xaeron.

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead.

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage.

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee.

It was a shame he had never known before.

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves.

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more.

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted.

"We lost," he finally said.

The shock froze her in place.

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation.

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power.

Then betrayal had destroyed everything.

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bloodline.

But Xaeron had returned.

And now, he demanded reparation.

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall.

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly.

The silence became oppressive.

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my blood."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."