Ghosts of the Past

I shouldn't have been there. Nor should I have heard that. But I did.

And the moment my fingers touched the glass jar, the sound echoed like an explosion.

The omegas turned around.

Three of them. The oldest pressed her lips together. The youngest lowered her eyes. The one in the middle... the one in the middle looked at me like someone looking at an old photograph forgotten in a drawer.

With pity.

With... a hint of contempt.

I hate myself for trying to smile.

I couldn't.

I turned my back and went upstairs. I almost ran.

I closed the bedroom door as if that would be enough to silence what I had heard.

“Since Maura came back, the Alpha only has eyes for her.”

“That idiot Camila still thinks she's Luna...”

Idiot.

I've never seen Maura up close.

But the stories reached me even before I knew where the master bedroom of this mansion was.

The wolf, Carlos' childhood friend.

The two had been inseparable since they were little.

The whole pack thought they would end up marking each other. Half of them already called her the future Luna.

They said she ruled him. That he would cross the city if she cried.

“She was the only one who could make Carlos let his guard down,” said a cleaning omega months ago. She didn't even notice I had heard her.

“Carlos was devastated when she left,” said the Beta in the middle of dinner.

“He lost his way for years,” whispered another, when she thought I had left.

But no one talked about Maura openly.

Because there was a day—and I remember it as if it were yesterday—when Carlos lost control.

I was at the hospital waiting for some test. It was still early in the relationship, and I was trying to be the perfect Luna.

And suddenly, his voice cut through the hallway like thunder:

“Starting today, no one talks about Maura around Camila. She's the past. Camila is the future.”

I stood still, his words convinced me. I clung to them like someone clinging to a buoy in the open sea. I believed him. I really believed him.

Maura was gone, or so they said.

She had found her partner. A filthy rich human.

And she didn't even look back.

Carlos begged her.

That's what they told me. That he even knelt down. That she laughed.

And that was it.

She turned her back in her high heels and went to live her life of luxury.

After that, he changed.

He became half ice, half knife.

And every time someone mentioned her name, he turned into a time bomb.

That's why he forbade it. And that's why I believed Maura was just a ghost. But now... she's back.

And I saw it in those omegas' eyes: to them, I was no longer Luna.

I was just the woman who stayed.

I couldn't sleep.

I tossed and turned in bed, pulling the sheet up to my neck and then kicking it away.

The pillow was wet. Sweat or tears — I don't even know anymore.

The night seemed endless.

It was only at dawn that I heard the sound of keys in the front door. The heavy wood closing slowly.

Carlos.

I held my breath, his footsteps crossed the hallway, then there was a moment of silence.

And then the click of Tiago's bedroom door handle.

I closed my eyes tightly, Carlos was putting our son to bed. After a walk with her.

With her.

A dry nausea rose, tearing at my throat. The image of the two of them together — Maura smiling, holding Tiago's hand — made me want to vomit.

The doorknob turned again.

Now it was our bedroom door.

Carlos entered silently, wearing only a dark T-shirt and his hair messy — as if he had come straight from her arms.

He looked at me. Just by looking at me, he knew. I saw him sigh, as he always does when he faces a problem.

“You should already be asleep. You stayed home to rest, remember?”

He came over to me.

He kissed my forehead.

As if nothing had happened.

But something broke inside me. And my voice came out... small. Weak. Trembling.

“Is it true that Maura is back?”

Carlos froze.

The hand that was in my hair stopped in midair.

He moved away.

“Yes. She arrived a few days ago. It seems the marriage didn't work out. She moved back to her parents' house.”

The confirmation hit me like a door slamming in my face.

I trembled.

"And you... have you been with her? All those appointments... all those days you asked me to stay home... Have you been taking Tiago with you to see her?“

Carlos stared at me.

For a second, his eyes hardened. But soon his expression softened.

He took a deep breath and approached me again.

”She's working as my secretary now, Camila. That's all. It's a professional relationship. Nothing more."

I tried to believe him.

Really. I wanted so badly to believe it that, for a moment, I forced my eyes to say something else—anything but doubt.

Carlos pulled me with that rehearsed firmness of his, wrapping his arms around my shoulders as if he could protect me from what he himself had caused.

He pressed his face against my neck, breathing deeply there, as if he wanted to memorize my scent or distract me from his.

“Don't believe the gossip, my love. You're my mate. My Luna.

She's just a friend. Nothing more.”

The words came out with calculated calm, as if he knew exactly where they should land.

And I... I wanted so badly for it to be true.

Once again, I clung to those words like someone clinging to a rope about to snap. I forced myself to think that maybe I was overreacting. That maybe it was just the weight of insecurity, of inevitable comparison, of the vivid memory of a woman he never forgot.

After all... he marked me. We are companions. And no one can break that bond.

Right?

He kissed me as if he wanted to erase everything.

He didn't say anything else. He just pushed me lightly against the bed and came on top of me. His breath was already hot, his body hard against mine.

His hands went under my shirt, pulling everything off quickly. His beard scraping my skin. His fingers squeezed my waist as if marking his territory.

When he moved his mouth down to my neck, I should have pushed him away. I should have said something. But my body was already reacting. It was too late.

His tongue moved down my chest. He knew exactly where to touch me. He opened me with his mouth as if I were his. As if I still were.

I grabbed the sheets, trying not to moan. I wanted to resist. Out of pride. Because of everything I had heard that night.

But when he stuck two fingers inside me and started working me with his tongue... I forgot.

I forgot about Maura. I forgot about the omegas. I forgot about myself.

He climbed back up with his hot body, his eyes burning into mine.

“Mine,” he growled, as if it were true.

I dug my nails into his shoulders. I wrapped my legs around his waist. When he penetrated me, I felt everything come back. Everything I tried to hide.

He fucked me like he wanted to convince me. Like he wanted to keep me there.

“My mate,” he said, panting. “No one else.”

I believed him.

Because at that pace, in that heat, it was easier to believe than to face the truth.

He came inside me with a hoarse moan. I came right after him. My whole body was shaking.

For a few seconds, it was as if nothing else existed.

When he penetrated me, I felt it. It wasn't just the impact of his body inside mine. It was the smell. Sweet, feminine, sickening. It was there, stuck to his neck. A woman's perfume. One I didn't wear. One that wasn't mine.

My body froze for a second. My mind screamed. But Carlos didn't stop. Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe he pretended. He sank his teeth into my shoulder as if he wanted to mark his territory, as if the taste of my skin could erase what was there, so obvious.

Even so, I let him. My body responded, as it always responded to him. When he quickened his movements, when he pressed his hips against mine harder, when his sweat fell on my skin, I came with him. Not because I wanted to. But because my body still remembered the way.

He fell on top of me, panting, his chest rising and falling against mine. His hand still on my hip, as if holding me there. As if that were enough.

I turned my face to the side. I took a deep breath.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

And I lied to myself, once again. I pretended I didn't smell it, that it didn't hurt.

I pretended I didn't know.

Then he lay down beside me. He pulled the sheet. He kissed my forehead.

He fell asleep in minutes.

And me?

I lay there, awake, staring at the ceiling. Trying to convince my heart to believe his words — and not the smell on his neck.

The next morning. I woke up alone. The sun was streaming into the room when my cell phone vibrated with a message from the hospital.

Sacred Heart Hospital

“Dr. Rodrigo Sales asks that you come in as soon as possible to discuss your test results.”

My stomach sank.