The Alpha Cousin's Luna

My wife is on her knees for another man in our bed.

The photo on my phone is from our own security cam. Tribeca loft. 9:42 PM. White timestamp burning in corner. Sarah Whitmore, 27, blonde, my wife of three years, wearing the white wedding dress I paid for, ring still on her left hand, mascara running, on her knees on our white rug that I vacuumed this morning for her.

For Malrik Dread.

6'5 Beast Alpha of the Manhattan underworld. Yellow eyes that glow in dark like cheap streetlight. Neck tattoos that crawl up to his jaw like black vines. Shaved sides black top. The man who runs SoHo after midnight with a black SUV with no plates and smells like wet dog and blood and smoke. The man every boutique owner on Prince Street pays protection to and whispers about when he walks in with leather boots.

In our bed. In her wedding dress. With my ring on. In the loft I pay $4,800 a month for with two jobs.

I am Jace Cole, 28, brown hair, brown eyes that sometimes flash gray-gold when I am mad, human, accountant from Ohio, J.Crew shirt, cheap soap, black titanium moonstone ring I wear every day, the ring Sarah said was too cheap but I saved three months for. Two jobs. Day job taxes for rich men on 5th Avenue who make $200k a month and tip me $20. Night job QuickBooks for restaurants in Hell's Kitchen who pay late. I paid for that loft. I paid for her SoHo bridal boutique on Prince Street that says JACE & SARAH BRIDAL in white letters I installed myself on ladder in winter while she drank wine inside. I paid for her mother’s dentist in Queens. I paid for her Tesla Model 3 white. I stayed loyal. I stayed home when she went out with girls till 2 AM.

I was bringing her favorite soup from deli downstairs, chicken noodle extra pepper, because she texted she had cramps. She said come home early, babe. She said she loved me. She said she missed me so much. She said bring soup.

She paid me back like this.

The front door was unlocked, which was weird, because Sarah always locks triple. I heard her before I saw her. Soft fake moan I know from our own bed when she wanted something expensive, then deep growl, not human, rattling windows, rattling my cheap IKEA frame. I stood outside our bedroom, soup in hand, cold, steam on my face, and watched through crack that I should not have watched through.

Her white dress pooled around her knees, expensive lace I paid $3k for at Kleinfeld, now wrinkled. His huge hand, claw black nails, long, dirty, fisted in her blonde hair, pulling hard. His other hand on her shoulder, yellow eyes looking down, enjoying. Her hands on his thighs, ring catching light, my ring, my moonstone ring on my finger matches hers but hers is diamond $12k I paid on credit.

He saw me in mirror. Malrik Dread saw me standing with soup. Yellow eyes met mine in reflection. He smiled, fangs out, long, wet, yellow, and kept going. He wanted me to see. He wanted human accountant to see what Beast can do.

Sarah saw me in mirror second later. She didn't stop. She looked at me, eyes glazed, then at him, and moaned his name louder for me to hear. Malrik. Not Jace. Malrik. She said it like prayer.

I didn't yell. My father in Ohio taught me when I was 10, when house burns in winter, you don't scream, you get water. When your mom died in Ohio hospital, you don't cry in funeral, you pay bill. So I lifted phone, old iPhone 12 cracked screen. One photo. Click. Sound off. Security cam already recorded everything to cloud on my laptop, but I needed my own proof for court, for Carter Legal, for judge who loves rich.

My hand did not shake. My brown eyes went cold, gray around edge. My cheap soap scent mixed with his wet dog blood smoke scent in hallway.

Then I turned around, put soup on kitchen counter, lid still on, receipt under, and left. Quiet. Same way I left every time she screamed about money, about me not being alpha enough, about me being just human from Ohio, about me not being like her cousin Kael who is rich and tall and beast.

Outside on Chambers Street, Manhattan cold February bit through my J.Crew shirt, through my bones. Wind from Hudson. I sat on curb like homeless man, like I saw every day outside deli. Phone in hand. Photo open. My wife on knees for Beast. People walked by, looked at me, kept walking. New York way.

Three years. I built world around her. I met her in Ohio State, business class, she was pretty blonde who said she hated Ohio and wanted New York fashion. I followed like dog. I worked. I believed loyalty was love, because my mother said loyalty is only thing human has when no fangs. She wanted boutique, I signed $150k loan with my name only. She wanted loft, I signed lease with my name only. She wanted time, I gave two jobs time. She wanted ring, I gave black titanium moonstone I saved three months for while she bought diamond with my card.

She wanted Malrik Dread.

Black SUV across street, no plates, engine running, windows tinted 100%, driver watching me. Thin man, neck tattoo same as Malrik's crew, Beasts at the Border gang that Luna's Pack fights every night. Warning. Human, this is underworld, stay away. I have seen that SUV parked outside her boutique twice last month, Prince Street, she said client from Queens, big wedding.

My phone buzzed, loud in cold. Sarah.

SARAH: Jace??? Where did you go?? Come back we need talk pls! You left soup!

Second text, photo of her in bed alone now, white dress torn, fake crying face, trying to look innocent, hair messy on purpose.

SARAH: He forced me! Malrik forced me! He said he would hurt you if I didn't do it! He said he would burn boutique if I said no! He came for protection money! Please baby I love only you! Come home!

Forced? Her ring on. Her dress she chose this morning from closet, I saw her iron it. Her knees, willing, on rug I vacuumed. Her moan, willing.

I typed with frozen fingers, thumbs red: You asked for $15k a month divorce last week via Carter Legal. You get zero now. I have photo and video from cloud.

I blocked her number. I blocked her I*******m @sarahwhitmorebridal. I blocked boutique page. I blocked her mother.

Phone buzzed again, unknown number, P*F with Carter Legal letterhead, my least favorite law firm on 5th Avenue that charges $800 an hour.

CARTER LEGAL - DIVORCE MEDIATION NOTICE - TOMORROW 9 AM SHARP - BLACKWOOD TOWER 58TH FLOOR 5TH AVENUE NEW YORK - YOUR PRESENCE REQUIRED - COUNSEL FOR SARAH WHITMORE RETAINED - CLIENT OBSERVER: KAEL WOLFE BLACKWOOD - BRING ID AND FINANCIALS

Kael Wolfe Blackwood.

Sarah's cousin. The one man no one dares to touch on 5th Avenue. The name every boutique owner whispers when Malrik comes for money, they say call Blackwood.

6'3 billionaire Alpha CEO, Tom Ford black suit black shirt open at top silver chain catching light on dark chest hair, black hair pushed back neat but wild, amber eyes that turn gold when mad or possessive or hungry, burning hot hands that steam in winter and burn human skin, cedar and rain scent that fills whole room and makes human dizzy, wolf tattoo on collarbone that moves when he breathes, owns Blackwood Tower and runs Luna's Pack, the only pack that guards Manhattan from Beasts like Malrik Dread. The pack that has Luna Skye Ashford silver hair to waist moon tattoo glowing blue on forehead blue ice eyes white silk dress snow jasmine scent and Kade Fang 7ft gray-brown fur leather steel armor fangs out brown loyal eyes claw hands black nitrile gloves who kneels fist over heart and says My Luna and dies for Luna.

I had seen Kael once, at our engagement party two years ago, SoHo boutique opening, Prince Street, champagne cheap because I paid. I was fixing Sarah's dress that tore because she pulled too hard showing off to Malrik who was already there that night as plus one of someone. He stood in corner, 6'3, black suit, silver chain, amber eyes watching me. Watching me stay loyal while Sarah flirted with Malrik that night too, even then, touching his arm, laughing. Kael said nothing. He handed me napkin when I cut finger on zipper fixing dress, blood dripping. His fingers brushed mine, burning hot, almost burned me, I pulled back. He smelled like cedar and rain in room full of cheap perfume and Malrik's wet dog. His amber eyes looked at my cut, then at my brown eyes, then gold flash. He said, You bleed too much for human who works too much.

Sarah had pulled me away and whispered, Stay away from Kael. He's dangerous. He's Beast too, but richer and colder. He will eat human like you for breakfast and not burp. He doesn't like us.

Now his name is on my divorce paper as observer. Tomorrow 9 AM. Blackwood Tower 58th floor. 5th Avenue.

I stood up from curb. Knees cracking like old man. Cold. I looked at black SUV with no plates. Driver still watching, phone to ear, probably calling Malrik inside my loft, still in my bed, still in my wife's wedding dress, still smelling my soup.

I should have broken. Human accountant, 28, broke, cheated, wife on knees for 6'5 Beast, sitting on curb like dog, no family in New York, mother dead, father dead, Ohio gone.

Instead, something cold and old woke in my chest, under ribs, behind heart, gray fur, golden eyes, low howl I had not heard since I was 8 in Ohio when my mother died in hospital and held my small hand and said Jace, you are not fully human, your father was Ghost Wolf, last of kind, gray fur golden eyes, sleeping 28 years, will wake when you find true mate who marks you with gold bite on neck and loves you forever not contract.

My brown eyes flashed gray-gold for second, I saw in phone reflection. I felt hot, not cold anymore.

I walked. Not home. Not to loft where Sarah fake cries in wedding dress on white rug. I walked toward 5th Avenue. Toward Blackwood Tower. Glass tower that touches sky, black glass, gold lights. Toward Carter Legal tomorrow 9 AM. Toward Kael Wolfe Blackwood who has watched me for two years, amber to gold eyes, burning hot hands, Tom Ford, silver chain, cedar rain.

And I had idea that should have been crazy, but wasn't crazy anymore, because if my wife can get on her knees for a Beast to destroy me, I can get on my knees for an Alpha to save me and burn her.

I will walk into Carter Legal tomorrow, 58th floor, and I will look at Kael Wolfe Blackwood, the billionaire Alpha who owns half Manhattan, Sarah's own cousin, the man every human and Beast bows to, and I will say, Marry me. In front of her lawyer, her, everyone.

I will ask billionaire to marry me. Flash marriage. Not contract. Forever. Just like he wanted two years ago when he gave napkin.

Phone buzzed again. Same unknown number, yellow eyes emoji, photo of my front door, my soup on counter, from inside my own loft. He is still inside.

UNKNOWN: NICE PHOTO, HUMAN. SHE TASTED GOOD ON KNEES IN WHITE DRESS. SHE SAID YOUR NAME WHEN DONE THO. CUTE. SEE YOU AT MEDIATION TOMORROW. TRY NOT TO CRY IN TOWER. - M

Malrik Dread. Still in my loft.

I didn't block. I saved message. Evidence for Luna's Pack. And I kept walking toward 5th Avenue, toward Blackwood Tower, where my future husband waits on 58th floor and doesn't know yet he's about to be married to accountant from Ohio who just caught wife on knees for Beast and will become Luna King.

Tomorrow 9 AM, I become Luna of Blackwood Pack, crowned by Luna Skye Ashford, guarded by Kade Fang, and bitten gold by Kael.