The Cursed Luna And Her Ruthless Alpha

Elara's POV Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. I was meant to run simple errands, mind my business, and make it back to my little corner without incident. I wasn’t aiming to be noticed, especially by the pack members who always made it their mission to remind me where I stood—or, rather, where I didn’t. But sometimes, I wondered if staying out of their way only made them seek me out even more.I pulled my hood up and ducked my head, hoping the less they saw of my face, the better. The market was busy, filled with laughter and chatter, and I hoped the noise would hide my presence. I had to pass by a group of wolves, talking loud and carefree, completely absorbed in their own conversations. My steps were quiet, deliberate.But luck wasn’t on my side.“Hey, isn’t that Elara?” The voice was sharp, familiar. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Mira, the pack’s reigning queen bee and self-proclaimed guardian of everyone else’s business.I ignored her, quickening my steps.

Elara's POVI stared at Andrew, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling as though the ground beneath my feet had just crumbled away. He was really doing this, claiming me, offering me a place in his pack. It felt surreal, like something out of a dream, so unexpected that my mind couldn’t fully comprehend it. And yet, here he was, standing before me with an air of calm resolve, as if this decision was as natural to him as breathing.“Gather your things now!” he commanded, his voice steady and firm. “Meet me at Alpha Dorian’s cabin in half an hour.”I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it, utterly lost for words. The reality of the moment was too overwhelming. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of disbelief, hope, and terror, each emotion crashing against the other like a turbulent storm. I nodded mutely, unable to form a coherent response. Andrew didn’t wait for another word; without a glance back, he turned and walked away, his confidence unshakable, something only an Alpha could

Elara's POVI stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on me like the iron jaws of that trap had on my leg. Kill Andrew? It sounded impossible. The Alpha, my supposed mate, the one who’d given me a fleeting taste of hope before snatching it away with his plans? My thoughts spun wildly, clashing against the memories that kept replaying in my head.“What if he’s only taking you for his own reasons, reasons you don’t understand?” Lora had asked, her voice trembling with both fear and worry. “Elara, once you go, you may never be able to come back.”And then there were Andrew's own words, still ringing in my ears: “She’s perfect for my plans.” Plans I wasn’t privy to. Plans filled with manipulation and betrayal. I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms. Could I really do it? Could I kill him?The shadowed man’s smile deepened, cutting through the thick silence. “I see the conflict in your eyes, Elara. But you know the answer already. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’

Elara's POVAfter Andrew exited the room, the only sound accompanying me was the metallic jingle of the chains binding my ankles. I found myself fixated on the cold, unyielding door, my mind simmering in silent frustration until the weight of exhaustion finally pulled me into an uneasy slumber. When I stirred awake, a jarring realization struck me—I was no longer in the familiarity of my bedroom.The atmosphere around me was sharp and numbing, a biting chill creeping into my bones, and a metallic scent hung heavily in the air, evoking the unsettling aroma of blood. As I blinked to clear my clouded mind, I took in my surroundings with growing unease. I was inside a sprawling cavern, its rocky walls looming overhead, lined with an array of weapons—swords and daggers reflecting the harsh light, their edges glinting ominously.This space felt all too familiar from the fleeting moments of consciousness I had experienced when I was first dragged through its entrance, but now, under the cruel

Elara's POVThe room smelled of old paper and dust-a quiet place, far away from the continuous buzz of pack activity. I did not have any business being here. And yet, here I was, thumbing through brittle pages of ledgers and records.I had told myself it was curiosity, but inside, I knew it was desperation. Answers had to be somewhere, didn't they?What I overheard between Andrew and Michael didn't sit too well. They referred to me -like some scapegoat, a chess piece to be moved at every whim. But there was something beneath that, something left unsaid but very pronounced. And I was going to find it.My fingers brushed against an old leather-bound journal tucked between thick volumes of pack history. I opened it, feeling the spine creak, and revealed spidery handwriting that was decades old. These pages spoke of some "Blood Moon curse" with a very unclear origin and of some kind of artifact called Owlshard.My fingers stroked the word "Owlshard," as though touching it would somehow dr