Chapter 3 - The Last Lunarborn

I have never been held captive before. Never. No one dared to lay a finger on the Beta’s daughter—not when my father was alive, and not after he passed. My brother made sure of that. No one ever touched a single strand of my hair. And now… here I am, locked in a place that looks and smells like a damn basement.

I’d been awake for maybe thirty minutes… or longer. It was hard to tell. Time didn’t feel real here. I’d already looked around, hoping to find some way out, but there was nothing—no windows, no real doors, just old, forgotten furniture shoved into the corners and walls so cracked and faded, it looked like no one had touched this place in years. Dust covered everything, thick enough to choke on, and cobwebs draped from the ceiling like something out of a nightmare. The air was cold and stale, carrying a sharp, metallic scent—blood, maybe? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. All I knew was this place felt... wrong. Empty. Like it had been abandoned by the world a long time ago. And now, I was starting to feel the same way.

I was just about to scream my lungs out when I heard footsteps—coming from below. That’s when it hit me… I wasn’t in a basement. I was being kept somewhere higher. An attic? A rooftop room? I didn’t know, but the steps were definitely climbing up toward me.

“Hey, our Luna is up!” a cheerful voice called out. A red-headed guy appeared, grinning as he opened a hatch-like door from beneath me. His smile didn’t match the situation at all—it felt wrong. Before I could even say a word, he ducked back down and disappeared just as fast as he’d shown up.

That was my cue. I screamed. I screamed like my life depended on it—because maybe it did. Maybe the next person who came through that door would be the one to end me.

After screaming my lungs out, my voice hoarse with desperation, I suddenly noticed something—the red-headed guy hadn’t locked the door behind him.

My heart pounded as I stood up from the corner I’d been crouched in. Step by careful step, I made my way down the creaky wooden ladder, hoping—no, praying—for an escape.

The moment I stepped into the room below, I was hit with a wave of fresh air. It was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of warm bread and herbs. The place was unexpectedly neat, a complete contrast to the attic I’d just left behind. Sunlight poured in through a small, open window, casting golden streaks across a tidy kitchen.

That’s when it hit me—it was already daybreak. How long had I been up there? Hours? A whole night?

Before I could even process that thought, my eyes caught movement. Two people stood by the counter, locked in a petty argument. One was a guy, and the other a woman who looked like she wasn’t about to back down.

“That is not the way to spread butter on bread,” the woman said sharply, grabbing the knife from his hand. “You use the knife like this.”

The guy leaned back with a playful grin. “Kira, you don’t have to show me how to spread bread. I like my bread this way,” he whispered teasingly, then quickly shoved the uneven slice into his mouth before she could argue further.

I froze.

His eyes suddenly lifted and met mine. For a moment, I hoped—begged, even—that he hadn’t noticed me. Maybe I could slip away. Maybe I could still run.

But it was too late.

“Oh! Look who decided to join us for breakfast,” he said, grinning as if I hadn’t just been screaming moments ago. “Hello, my name is Frank.”

He stepped toward me, hand extended in greeting.

I didn’t move. My entire body shivered involuntarily.

Then I noticed them—five others sitting at a dining table across the room, all casually eating like this was just another normal morning. Like I wasn’t some kidnapped stranger standing in their kitchen. The realization made my stomach twist.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Frank called out again with a teasing grin, “want some bread? Kira here will spread the butter for you. She's basically the goddess of butter.” He winked at the woman, who was still holding the butter knife midair, clearly not amused.

Before I could respond, another guy—one of the five already seated at the dining table—lifted a cereal box like it was some kind of offering.

“Hello, Luna Nyra,” he said, smiling warmly. “Would you like some cereal? I could pour you a bowl. We’ve got milk too.”

I just stood there, frozen.

None of this made sense.

Strange faces. Smiling faces.

Was this how kidnappers behaved now? Friendly? Casual? Offering me breakfast like I hadn't just woken up trapped in an attic?

“Please,” I said, my voice trembling as I took a step back, “I have no idea who you people are or why you’ve taken me. But I must warn you—my brother is the Beta of Oakland. This is treason. Holding me hostage is not something you’ll get away with.”

Maybe they didn’t know who I was. Maybe they thought I was just some lost girl. Maybe that was why they took me. Still, I had to keep reminding myself: I wasn’t just anyone.

The guy with brown hair—the one who looked like the redhead guy earlier but with brown hair—took a small step toward me, hands raised slightly as if to show he meant no harm.

“Luna Nyra,” he said gently, “we’re not kidnappers. We’re the good guys. I promise.”

Good guys don’t drag people out of the woods unconscious, I wanted to say.

I stepped back again, inching toward the door behind me, trying to keep every face in sight. But one thing kept ringing in my ears—Luna Nyra. Why were they calling me that?

I paused. My hand rested on the door handle.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked, my voice low but sharp. “I’m Nyra Black, not your Luna.”

Maybe they had seen me at my shifting ceremony, maybe that’s why they were confused. But if they had been there… then they should know.

“You must be mistaken,” I continued, swallowing the knot in my throat. “The Alpha rejected me. He never accepted me as his Luna.”

And just as I turned the knob, ready to bolt, the door across the room creaked open.

Two figures stepped in.

One of them was the red-headed guy from earlier. But this time, he didn’t look as cheerful. He was quieter now, more composed. Standing beside him was someone else—taller, broader, and with an energy that made the air in the room shift.

He had dark blond hair and wore a black leather jacket that looked as worn as it was commanding. His expression was unreadable, and he didn’t even have to say a word—his presence alone was enough to silence the entire room.

Everyone parted instinctively as he walked forward, like water moving around stone.

“So…” His voice was deep, steady, and laced with quiet authority. “Our Luna is finally awake.”

My breath caught in my throat.

He stopped a few feet away, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Welcome, Nyra,” he said. “We are the warriors of the Lunaborn. And you, Nyra… you are our Luna. The last Lunaborn.”