The Phantom Luna

I checked my phone again—5:47 PM.The candles were already lit—thirteen of them, one for each year we'd been together. The hotel suite looked perfect. I'd spent three hours getting it right, draping fairy lights across the curtains, scattering rose petals on the bed, setting up his favorite wine. The food I'd cooked myself was staying warm in the containers I'd brought. Pasta carbonara. The first thing I'd ever made for him that didn't turn out like garbage.My hands were shaking as I smoothed down my red dress. The one he'd bought me on our fifth anniversary. Back when he still noticed what I wore.I texted him: I'm here. Can't wait to see you.Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.On my way. Be there by 6.I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. My heart was doing that stupid thing where it beat too fast, like I was some teenager waiting for her crush. God, I was pathetic. But today had to be different. Today was ours.Six o'clock came.Then six-thirty.I called. It ran

The suitcase handle cut into my palm.One bag. Thirteen years reduced to one fucking bag.My heels hit the marble. Each step echoed. Sharp. Final.No one moved to stop me.My hand closed around the doorknob."Mummy?"Every muscle in my body locked."Mummy, are you going away?"His footsteps. Running. Getting closer.Don't turn around. Don't look at him. Don't—"Mummy, please don't go!"His hands fisted in my dress.I closed my eyes. Breathed through my nose. Then dropped to one knee.Richie's face was red. Tears streaked down his cheeks. His bottom lip shook.He looked exactly like Desmond."Baby." My throat burned. "Mummy has to go.""Why?"Because they broke me. Because I'm nothing here. Because your father fucks other women in our bed."Because Mummy isn't valued here. No one wants Mummy here."His face twisted. Tears fell harder.Then something shifted in his eyes. Something cold. Something Desmond."Fine then." His voice went flat. "Go."The air left my lungs."I don't even want

Five years ago— Luna Albert died quietly. There was no funeral, no mourning, no one noticed how deeply she was hurt, no one noticed the exact moment she disappeared. Except her.New York had not welcomed her. It had tested her. But she had no choice than to stay. Because it was for the best.The first night, she slept in a penthouse that didn’t feel like hers. It felt strange to her. It was too big, too clean, and too empty. She sat on the floor with her back against the glass wall, staring out at a city that didn’t know her name. And didn't care who she used to be.And for the first time in thirteen years— no one was watching her, no one was judging her, no one was hurting her, and no one expected anything from her. It should have felt like freedom but it didn’t. It felt like silence.Her hands had shaken. It was not from fear, but from withdrawal, habit, and the absence of something that had defined her for too long. Which were pain, expectation, and neglect.She didn’t know who sh

The mask hit the floor with a soft, almost insignificant sound.But to Luna, it echoed. It was loud, violent, and wrong.For a fraction of a second, she froze. It wasn’t visible and no one else would notice.But inside, everything stopped. Because she knew that symbol. Not vaguely, not distantly, but intimately.A black ink, curved like a broken spiral, cut through with three diagonal slashes, burned into the skin just below the ear. That's the mark of Black Helix.Her mission. Five years ago. One of the last before she disappeared.Her breath didn’t change, her posture didn’t shift. But her mind snapped wide open.That’s impossible. She stepped forward slowly. Like nothing had happened, like this was just another body, just another threat neutralized.The attacker groaned faintly beneath her. Barely still alive.She bent down, placing two fingers gently on his neck to check for a pulse, which she found to be faint.“Stay with me,” she said quietly.It wasn’t kindness, it was an order

The silence after Alexander’s warning was worse than shouting.It spread through the ballroom like poison, thick and choking, until even the orchestra had stopped playing. No one moved. No one breathed too loudly. Hundreds of people stood frozen beneath the crystal chandeliers, watching the most dangerous man in the supernatural world slowly crush Desmond Cross’s wrist with one hand.Desmond’s face had gone pale, like he was scared. Luna watched it happen with detached calm, champagne droplets still clinging to the sleeve of Desmond’s ruined suit. Five years ago, seeing fear on his face would have shattered her. She would have rushed to soothe him, reassure him, protect his pride.Now? She felt nothing.Alexander tilted his head slightly, eyes glowing red in the dim light. “You raised your hand against her once before,” he said softly.Desmond froze. The ballroom somehow became even quieter. Luna’s gaze sharpened. Interesting.Alexander looked at him like a predator studying prey alr