THE BROKEN LUNA: MATED TO THE CRIPPLED ALPHA

“You are cursed.”

Those words had been whispered to Aria from the moment she was born, and tonight, they echoed louder than ever.

The music and the celebration thundered through the hall, all of it was for her – the broken wolf, the stillblood, the unwanted bride.

Aria stood beside the feast table, her legs cramped as she tightly clenched her fingers. This was her celebration, but she was forbidden to even sit.

She was wearing a long crimson dress that hung tightly to her scars, her shoulders throbbed where the long diagonal marks hid beneath the fabric.

No chains bound her wrist tonight, yet she felt more trapped than ever. Her eyes were down, she dared not look up – lest she provoke another beating.

“Dance, Aria, Dance.” from across the hall, someone jeered.

“You’re the guest of honour aren’t you?” another sneered, “You should dance for us.”

Ronan, her drunken half brother and the heir to the pack, lifted his goblet of wine in mock salute. Lyra, his twin, purred loudly as the entire hall erupted into more laughter.

“You’ll make such a perfect bride, dear sister.” her words were smooth, but they had a hidden bite that only Aria could perceive.

Her chest tightened as she took a step backwards. This wasn’t a celebration. This was a funeral – hers.

She kept on moving backwards, slow as a shadow. The attention of the party wolves drifted elsewhere, and when she was sure that she was unseen. She slipped towards the servant's door.

The moment the doors shut behind her, she let out a sigh of relief. Her heart pounded as she tightened her resolve and whispered.

Run. Now.

The servant’s passageway was a massive labyrinth that she knew by heart. Twice, she was forced to duck past busy staff. She moved like a shadow, hugging the cold, narrow lined walls decorated with the images of her ancestors.

She spat at their painted faces.

Cursed! Stillblood! A disgrace!

They had all made her life a living hell.

As she reached the rear door, her fingers quickly ruffled through her cloak pockets until they clamped around hard, cold steel.

The longest key slid into the lock and she turned.

CLICK!

The door groaned open and the mountains of her clawhold breathed icy air into her lungs.

She took a step forward and her foot landed in the snow. She took another step, savoring the feeling of the wind on her face, before she broke into a grin and ran.

Thorns pierced through her soles, their sharp bristles tearing through her naked feet, large thick branches clawed at her arms, all trying to stop her, to hinder her in her quest for freedom.

Her muscles screamed, and her heart pounded within her chest.

Aria ignored them, she was not going to let a little pain stop her from getting what she had always wanted. Freedom.

She ran faster.

She was almost free.

She could almost taste it.

The moment she passed through the treeline that separated her Clawhold from the wilderness. She burst into laughter.

Then –

“Leaving so soon, Big Sis?”

Aria skidded to a stop, her breath stopped beating within her chest.

Her eyes narrowed and, with trembling hands, she turned around to face the tree lines.

From behind the trees, Lyra stepped out. The sharp soft rays of the moonlight showcased her beautiful angles. She was beautiful, deadly and full of venom. She had a sinister gleam in her eyes.

Aria took a step back.

Lyra smiled, her eyes taking in the fear in her half-sister’s face.

“Oh my God. You almost made it.” She chuckled, “You know we had a bet on if you were going to try to escape, right? And guess what? I won.”

She laughed harder, her words cutting through Aria’s confidence.

“I can’t believe you actually thought we’d let you leave. Or did you?”

“No… no.. I wasn’t.” Aria lied, her words coming out in a stutter,

“I know you want freedom Aria,” Lyra said, smirking. At an unnatural speed, she rushed forward.

She reached Aria and grabbed her by her hand. “But you don’t deserve freedom, Aria. You don’t deserve anything other than what we give you. You are cursed, Aria. Always remember that.”

Aria shook her head, “Please, just let me-”

SMACK!

Aria did not see when her sister lifted her hand nor when she slapped her. One moment, she was standing in front of her sister, the next, she was flying through the air.

Her weak body smashed through trees as her sister backhanded her back through the treeline.

She lay there on the icy forest floor, too stunned and broken to move.

With slow steps, Lyra walked over to her half-sister. She bent down and smirked at her. “You are not a wolf,” she spat, “You are a thing. Cursed, Useless. Broken. You are a charity case. Know your place and maybe you can live.”

After saying that, she spat at her broken sister and walked away, her footsteps fading in the background as she left.

Aria didn’t cry.

She couldn’t.

Because deep within, some hidden part of her agreed with her half-sister.

She was nothing more than a girl with a dead mother and a cursed bloodline. A girl who could never shift, never fight, never live.

She was broken and she knew it.

She lay there on the snow, her eyes open and lifeless as she accepted her fate.

She was going to get sold off, whether she liked it or not.

The snow fell on her.

And it was cold, heavy and merciless.

Just like the world that caged her.