Chapter Five

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 she was without it. So she built herself again. Piece by piece.

HexaTech didn’t ease her back in. They threw her into the fire.

“Your first assignment,” Jennifer Chen had said, sliding a file across the table, “is to dismantle a cyber-espionage ring operating out of Eastern Europe.”

Luna hadn’t even opened the file. “When do I start?” 

Jennifer had smiled. “You already have.”

The work consumed her. She had long nights, endless code, patterns within patterns, and ghosts in the systems.

She slipped back into Phantom like she had never left. Like she had been waiting. Every keystroke was precise, every move calculated, and every victory—

Everywhere became silent.

Because Phantom didn’t need applause. Phantom needed results. But the real transformation didn’t happen in front of screens. It happened in mirrors, in training rooms, and in moments no one saw.

She rebuilt her body, strength, and endurance. Even without her wolf— She refused to be weak.

Bruises became routine, pain became data, failure became adjustment. She learned, adapted, and refined.

And slowly— The woman who had begged for love disappeared and was replaced by someone who didn’t need it.

In the second year, she stopped flinching, at loud voices, sudden movements, and memories. She started working on herself without the help of anyone. She was no longer weak. It wasn't easy but she pulled through. 

In the third year, she stopped dreaming about them, Desmond, Liora, Richie, the house, the bed, and the betrayal. They all faded. Not erased. Just…Irrelevant. 

She stopped caring about whatsoever. She stood her ground and believed in herself.

In the fourth year, her name started circulating again. Not Luna. Phantom.

Whispers in high-level circles, governments, corporations, and people who dealt in shadows. Everyone had something to say. 

“She’s back.” “She never should have left.” “Good luck surviving if you’re on her list.”

In the fifth year, she stopped looking back. Completely. Until tonight.

The ballroom lights glittered overhead; voices buzzed; deals were being made, and power was shifting hands. And in the center of it all— Luna stood. She was unshaken, untouchable, and unrecognizable.

Desmond watched her like a man seeing a ghost. He was so shocked. He never expected it. 

Because in his mind— She was one. The weak woman he had discarded, the one who couldn’t survive without him and the one who—

“Stop staring,” Liora snapped under her breath.

He didn’t respond. Because he couldn’t. Because it still looked unreal. Because nothing about this made sense.

“She’s pretending,” Liora continued, voice tight. “This is an act.”

“Is it?” Selene whispered. No one answered.

Across the room— Luna turned and their eyes met.

And in that moment— The past and present collided. Not softly, not gently, but violently.

Desmond took a step forward. Then another. It was drawn and compelled. Like something inside him recognized what his mind couldn’t accept.

“Luna—”

“Don’t,” she said. The word cut clean and sharp. He stopped.

“Don’t call me that,” she continued. “You don’t get to use my name like it belongs to you.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re still my—”

“Finish that sentence,” she said calmly. “I dare you.” 

The silence stretched, it was heavy.

Because even he knew— He had no right. Not anymore.

“You left,” he said instead.

“You threw me away,” she corrected.

“I didn’t—” “You did,” she said. “And I picked myself up.” “And I improved.” The words landed like a verdict.

Liora stepped forward. She was clinging to control. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “You expect us to believe you became… this?”

Luna looked at her. She really looked at her. And smiled. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night.” I do not care.

Ophelia’s voice cut in. It was cold and sharp. “Enough games,” she said. “What do you want?”

There it was. The real question. It was not emotion, not apology, and not regret. But transaction.

Luna’s smile widened slightly. “What do I want?” she repeated. She stepped closer. Close enough that only they could hear her next words. “I want you to watch.”

Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. “Watch what?”

Luna’s gaze flicked to Desmond. Then back. “Everything you lost.”

And that— That was the moment. The true beginning. Not when she left and not when she returned.

But when they realized— She wasn’t the same woman. And she never would be again.

Across the room— Alexander watched silently and still. But his eyes burned brighter. Because now— He understood. She wasn’t just powerful. She was inevitable.

And for the first time in a very long time— Something excited him. Luna turned away from her past and faced the future

And walked straight into it, without hesitation, without fear, and without looking back.