THE LUNA OF MY DESTRUCTION.

~~ELENA~~

“Our condolences, Mrs. Ivanov,” said the tall man in a black suit, his head bowing slightly as a group of men stood rigid behind him.

“The boss… he spoke highly of you,” he added, his tone measured and polite, but his eyes scanned me with an intensity that made my skin crawl… as if he was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't belong to him.

Through the black veil that covered my face, I inhaled the sharp, heavy scent of incense mingling with the faint tang of polished wood. My gaze flicked over the men again. Their subtle glances, their fingers brushing the handles of guns tucked at their hips, and their posture that seemed to hum with silent authority.

“Thank you,” I finally murmured, bowing just enough to acknowledge them without breaking my composure.

One after another, they approached, offering their formal condolences while their eyes lingered, calculating, and probing. I could feel their unspoken questions press against me. Measuring whether I belonged in their world now that their boss was gone or not.

I shivered involuntarily and pressed my lips together, closing my eyes for a moment. Across where I stood, was a coffin, and in it, rested my husband.

Antonio Ivanov.

The mafia leader.

Not a single pang of grief touched me. God knows I was not mourning him and my thoughts were only on survival. On the fragile thread of safety that had kept me alive all these years.

Antonio had been my shield, and my protection in a world of predators, and now that he was gone, the danger I had long kept at bay crept closer. My marriage to him had never been about love but survival, and he sure played his role to perfection.

For four years, I lived as his wife, wore the identity he had crafted for me, sheltered under the protection he provided, and pretended to be someone else entirely.

Now, with him gone, the freedom I had felt for years felt fragile and hollow. The eyes of his men still lingered on me, calculating, watching, and whispering in a language I barely understood. Each glance lingered too long that they reminded me of what I had lost and what I had fled from.

Years of hiding, and years of pretending to be human.

I was free. Or so I thought.

The elder stepped forward, his voice rising in solemn prayer, the murmurs of the congregation following. For a brief moment, the whispers lessened, and the room seemed to hold its collective breath in respectful silence.

Just then, the doors of the church slammed open.

The sudden crash of wood against stone echoed through the chamber, freezing every breath. A ripple of fear swept through the crowd. Whispers died mid-word, and eyes darted to the entrance.

And I felt it instantly.

That old, feral pulse. The presence that pressed against my chest like a blade.

My wolf… The part of me I had long believed dead, stirred.

A low, aching hum began deep in my bones, and a soundless growl clawed up from within, scraping against my ribs.

‘He’s here.’ Her voice, raw, wild, and half-forgotten whispered through the hollow space of my mind. ‘He has come for us.’

My knees weakened. No, no… she shouldn’t be able to speak. I had buried her. I buried us the day I severed the bond.

All eyes turned to the door as shadows extended across the polished floor and a figure stepped into the church.

Tall and broad, every moment controlled and every breath commanded the space.

Wolves in human forms radiating untamed power, hovered around him, and then he came into focus.

Darius.

Alpha Darius Veylor Thorne.

The man who had once claimed my soul.

My heart tightened so hard in my chest like it was about to rip out and I wince softly under the veil I am now grateful for wearing.

Time hasn’t weakened him, instead, it has sharpened him further.

That firm jawline, those cold eyes, that darkness and power I know all too well.

Even through the crowd, his aura cuts like a blade, forcing the men around him to step back unconsciously.

My chest tightened and my veil felt heavier. I could smell him already. That intoxicating blend of pine, smoke, and danger that once anchored me. My wolf whimpered beneath my skin, a sound I hadn’t heard in years.

I thought I had buried the bond, hidden it beneath years of survival. I was wrong.

Four years.

Four years since I ran away from my pack.

Four years since I abandoned the mating ritual that bound us.

Four years since I cut ties with my fated mate and ran into the human world

Four years of accepting marriage to a human gangster widower, Antonio, just for survival.

Ignoring the chaos he had caused in the church, Darius’s eyes locked onto mine. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips, slow and deliberate, as if he could read every secret I had buried during those years. My fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

Antonio’s men tensed, sensing the threats drew their guns, aimed them at Darius’s entourage in a move meant to maintain control.

Only if they knew how useless their weapons would be against him and his wolves.

Slowly, and deliberately, he closed the distance between us. Each step was measured, and every movement was radiating a power I couldn’t ignore.

Finally, he stopped just inches away from me. This man was larger than life itself as his hands casually rested in his pockets and his gaze boring into mine.

“Playtime is over, mate,” he said, his voice deep, and commanding, which made my knees weaken. “We are going home.”

My body recoiled despite how I tried to compose myself, betraying the careful control I had practiced for years and my claws tingled beneath my skin, itching to break free.

This bond… this connection wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. Not after all this time.

“I… I am going nowhere with you,” I breathed roughly, but each word sounded weaker even to me.

He leaned just slightly closer, enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Cry for him if you want, Elena,” he murmured, voice low, and lethal.

“Mourn, if you wish. But when you’re done… you are coming home with me. You were mine before him. You will be mine after him.”

My breath hitched as my body screamed in protest, and something scary that I had tried to bury for four long years.

And deep down, I knew the fight wasn’t just about survival.

It was about him, about the mate bond, and about a pull I could never truly resist.