The Lost Luna’s Return

ZOEY

I don’t flinch anymore. That luxury’s long gone.

I just raise my arms over my head like a reflex, knowing the blows are coming.

They don’t need a reason. They never do.

“Useless, pathetic omega,” one of them spits before a kick slams into my ribs. Pain rips through me, but I swallow the scream. Screaming only makes them come back for more.

Another punch. Another boot to my back.

Their laughter echoes as they walk away, leaving me curled in the dirt like trash no one bothered to throw out.

I don’t cry. I haven’t in years. There’s nothing left in me to spill.

I force myself up—bones screaming, bruises blooming across skin that never seems to fully heal. I limp toward the kitchen, the pain sharp but familiar, like an old friend I hate but can’t get rid of.

The sink is piled with dishes again. As always.

I plunge my raw hands into the filthy water and scrub like my life depends on it. Because in this house—it does.

In the pack that should’ve been mine—I’m the ghost no one sees.

A slave in the territory my parents bled for.

A living reminder of a legacy buried in betrayal.

By the time night comes, my body drags like lead as I climb the stairs to the attic. My “room” is a rotting mattress in a space barely wide enough to stretch out in. The roof leaks. The air bites. My thin blanket does nothing to fight the cold.

But the silence? The silence is worse.

It lets the memories in.

I was the daughter of an Alpha once. The real Alpha.

I had a name. A future. A family.

Until the night they were slaughtered—and the Beta, Alex, turned on us.

He murdered them. Lied to the pack. Made me the villain.

And the pack believed him.

They let him crown himself Alpha.

They let him take everything.

They let him reduce me to this.

Even my wolf, Mia, went silent. She vanished the night my family did.

Some say I’m broken.

I say I’m surviving.

Barely.

BANG.

The attic door crashes open, and I jolt upright as heavy boots stomp up the steps. My muscles seize, every nerve alert.

Only one man walks like that.

Alpha Alex.

The devil in flesh.

“Get up,” he snarls, and before I can move, he’s already got a fistful of my hair. He yanks me down the stairs like I weigh nothing.

“You know the drill,” he says, lips curling around the syringe in his hand. “Can’t have you shifting. Not when we’ve worked so hard to keep that mutt inside you locked down.”

I don’t resist. Resistance brings pain. Obedience brings… different pain.

The needle plunges into my neck, and the sedative floods my bloodstream like fire. I shake, my body betraying me.

Then everything fades.

The next morning.

A heel slams into my ribs.

“Wake up, runt,” Luna Lily barks. Her voice is all venom now—far from the sweet friend she once was. “We’re not running a hotel for parasites.”

I wheeze, trying to sit up. Her perfume chokes the air. She’s immaculate, perfectly styled—while I smell like blood, bleach, and filth.

We used to braid each other’s hair. Whisper dreams under the stars.

Now she can’t even look at me without disgust curling her lip.

I wait until she leaves before I breathe again.

That’s the routine. Wake up to abuse. Drag myself through chores. End the day sedated and silent.

But today… something is off.

The air in the pack house is tight. Electric.

Whispers buzz through the halls like swarming bees.

“Is it true?”

“He’s coming here?”

“They say he ripped a man’s throat out for looking at him wrong.”

“He’s not just an Alpha… he’s a warlord.”

I pause mid-step, spine prickling.

Someone new is coming.

Someone dangerous.

Someone powerful.

And for the first time in years, something deep inside me stirs.

Not fear. Not hope.

Something… primal. Restless. Hungry.

“Omega!”

The voice snaps me out of it.

I turn to find Beta Jackson glaring down at me like I’m a bug he regrets not squashing.

“The Alpha needs you to clean the conference room. We’re hosting a summit.”

I nod, keeping my eyes low. But something in me is still burning. Flickering. Alive.

The whispers grow louder behind me.

Whoever is coming… he isn’t just a guest.

He’s a reckoning.

And though I don’t know his name, one thing is certain—he’ll change everything.