After I Died, He Made Me His Only Luna

When the news of my death on the battlefield, pinned to the pack's watchtower by silver arrows, reached my pack, my Alpha mate, Killian, simply laughed.

He thought I was just jealous he was going to claim the Rogue, that I was faking my own death just to get his attention.

"I was just trying to bring Valerie into the pack, and this is how she threatens me? With her own death?"

"I left her with my most elite warriors. How could she possibly be dead!"

"Tell her to get back here. I will claim Valerie, but after that, the title of Luna is still hers."

Seven days later, he appeared before my family's home, carrying the ceremonial Luna circlet.

He saw me in my white ceremonial dress, resting quietly beneath the white birch tree in the garden, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I knew it. You were just giving me the silent treatment again."

But in the next second, a pack elder's voice thundered:

"Prepare the funeral pyre. Let us pay our final respects to our fallen warrior, Sloane!"

...

"Alpha, the battle at the border watchtower was a slaughter. Sloane is dead, a silver arrow through the heart! The survivors saw it with their own eyes."

Killian crushed the crystal goblet in his hand, red wine dripping through his fingers.

He sneered, "Sloane, defending a watchtower by herself? What a joke."

"What did she offer you to turn my own warriors against me!"

The warrior shrank back, trembling.

"Everything I said is true! I would never dare deceive you, Alpha!"

"Enough!"

Killian slammed the shattered goblet down at the warrior's feet, his voice laced with rage and impatience.

"A jealous she-wolf who defies my every word, even a direct Alpha command, just because I plan to claim Valerie!"

"And you expect me to believe a wolf like that would die for the pack's honor?"

"She was just coasting on her family's name, learned a few basic moves from her weak father, got lucky in a few battles, and now she really thinks she's some irreplaceable warrior?"

"I'd be grateful if she just stopped causing trouble and hurting Valerie!"

The warrior was too terrified to utter another word.

"Besides..."

Killian rose to his feet, the oppressive weight of his Alpha power instantly filling the room. "It's true I left her at the border, but I left her with my elites."

"They would have protected her to their last breath. There's no way she could be dead."

With that, he turned and strode away.

My soul floated in midair, a bitter smile my only response.

He seemed to have forgotten he had once given Valerie the wolf fang token, a symbol of his Alpha authority.

He had once declared to the entire pack:

"Valerie's words are my words."

"Anyone who defies her betrays the entire Black Moon Pack!"

And it was because of this unprecedented favor that, on that day at the border watchtower, Valerie dared to mock my fallen Alpha father, calling him a coward to my face.

And he, as if bewitched, hung on her every word.

Just because I snapped at Valerie, he broke his promise to lead the troops himself, leaving me to face a border swarming with Rogues.

He was always like that. His words and his actions never aligned.

One moment, he's saying he wants me dead at the border, the next, he's leaving his most elite warriors to guard my back.

For so many years, I could never figure him out.

After Valerie arrived, I didn't recognize him at all.

Now, Valerie's word was the Alpha's word.

Using Killian's wolf fang, still carrying his scent, she dismissed the main forces.

Only the warriors under my command stood their ground, loyal to the death.

That day, the twilight glowed the color of coagulated blood as a storm of silver arrows from the Rogue alliance blotted out the sky.

My warriors fell one by one, their blood soaking the earth of the Black Moon Pack.

In my final moments, I knelt upon a mountain of Rogue corpses and wept tears of blood.

"Father... we held the line..."

The day my body was brought back to the pack, only my mother, Cecilia, remained of my family.

She looked at my corpse, her lips trembling, but not a single tear fell.

"Take my daughter back to her room."

A pack elder came to ask when the funeral pyre would be held.

She caressed my cold face. "My Sloane hadn't even reached her eighteenth birthday."

That evening, a witch on good terms with the pack was invited into my room.

By dawn, all the wounds on my body had been healed by moonlight magic.

I was dressed in my ceremonial gown, with exquisite makeup, my eyes closed as I sat propped up before the vanity mirror.

"Madam, I've used moonlight magic to temporarily preserve Miss Sloane's body. For 7 days she will remain just as she is now, as if she were merely asleep."

My mother placed the locket, a symbol of our family's honor, around my neck, then took up a comb to smooth my long hair.

"Sloane," she said, her voice tight with suppressed fury, "wait to leave until after your coming-of-age ceremony, my daughter."

Her voice dropped to a low vow. "Just wait. I will make them pay."