The Barren Luna’s Revenge

I stood paralyzed behind the shelf, my blood turning to ice.

I bolted before he could spot me, reaching the car on trembling legs. Tears blurred the road as I followed Fred’s SUV at a distance. He pulled up to a cabin deep in the woods—a cabin I owned.

I’d bought that place when I was pregnant, dreaming of a nursery. I’d spent five months hand-picking every piece of timber, only for the pup to die and the dream to rot. I hadn’t stepped foot inside since. I never imagined Fred would turn my sanctuary into his personal brothel.

Cynthia was waiting in the doorway, draped in a sheer white nightgown. The moment Fred cleared the car, she was on him. Her lips crashed into his, and Fred’s arm locked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand slid beneath her hem, gripping her with a raw possessiveness he never dared show me in the Pack.

"Bold tonight," he growled—that primal Alpha-rut sound I hadn’t heard in years. "Nothing underneath."

Cynthia let out a sharp, playful laugh. "You love it when I'm bad for you."

"I want to be buried in you every single day," he rasped, dragging her inside.

I sat in the dark, my muscles locking until I felt like stone. With shaking hands, I dug a cigarette out of the console. I’d quit years ago, but right now, nicotine was the only thing keeping me from screaming. I struck the lighter fifteen times before it caught.

The smoke hit my throat, but it couldn't touch the agony in my chest.

Why her?

I had raised Cynthia. I had fought for her, fed her the best cuts of meat, and even turned down a high-ranking Pack just to stay and protect her. I loved her more than my own life.

I pulled up the cabin’s security feed on my phone. The screen burned my eyes. Cynthia’s pale limbs were wrapped around Fred, and the hunger on his face was something I’d never seen—not even in the honeymoon phase of our bond.

Between gasps, Cynthia arched her back and whispered, "Who do you love more, Fred? Me... or my sister?"