LOGINBeing "perfect" was never something I aimed for, but here I am, sitting in a high-end café dressed in a sleek beige outfit that hugs every inch of me like a second skin. My legs are crossed just so, my posture elegant and deliberate. The soft leather of the chair beneath me feels too plush, like it knows I don't belong here. But I make it look like I do. My every movement is measured, calculated, and graceful. I lift my coffee cup to my lips, pinky slightly raised, and sip slowly. My eyes stay forward, focused, even though I can feel the stares of passersby through the glass window.
They always look. Men. Women. Even the baristas try to be subtle but fail miserably. I can’t blame them. It’s the aura I’ve built. I’m not just another woman sitting in a café. I’m the Luna. Cale’s Luna.
The girl who once flinched at the mention of his name is gone. She’s buried so deep I doubt I could dig her up if I tried. This version of me? She walks beside him into meetings with alphas of other packs, sits at his right hand, and nods like she understands every word they’re saying, and I am taking everything in. Learning. I’ve watched how they move, how they bargain. I know the difference between an alpha looking for allies and one looking for weaknesses.
I learned it all. I became it all.
At first, I thought Cale wouldn’t fall for it. I thought he’d see right through me. But the more I smiled during his "tests"—the more I leaned into his touch and his kisses—the more he loosened his grip. Not just on me, but on everything. Freedom started as a trickle. He'd let me walk the pack grounds without him by my side. Then came solo day trips with an "escort." A trial, I knew. But I played the part of the grateful Luna so well he didn’t even see it for what it was—a chance for me to breathe.
My biggest win so far was Derek. When I asked to choose my own Beta, I was ready for Cale to laugh in my face. Instead, he tilted his head, his sharp eyes watching me like he was waiting for a punchline.
"Who?" he asked.
"Derek," I said without hesitation.
For a second, I saw something flicker in his eyes—maybe doubt—but then he gave me that smug grin of his and shrugged like it didn’t matter. I expected a catch, but there wasn’t one. Not that I could see, anyway. Derek was mine. My shadow. My eyes and ears. My ally.
It wasn’t instant, though. At first, Derek was stiff and formal, his eyes darting between me and every shadow like he thought I’d break if he looked away for a second. But over time, something shifted. It started with small things. Like how he'd hold the door open for me without me asking or how he'd step just a little too close when we passed unfamiliar wolves. It was protective. Genuine.
Now, I trust him. More than I trust anyone else in this pack. Even Trinity trusts him.
“Your perfect Luna act is really paying off." Trinity’s voice echoes in my head, sly and sweet like she’s sharing some inside joke only we know. I don't respond aloud. Talking to a voice in your head tends to draw attention. But I glance down at my coffee, swirling the foam with a spoon, and think back. Yeah, it really is.
Mating. God, that word alone used to make my stomach twist into knots so tight I thought I'd suffocate. The first time Cale dragged me to that room, every inch of me screamed. I hated every second of it, and he loved every second of that hate. He fed off it.
But now? I play his game better than he does. I don’t flinch. I don't wince. I don't cry. Trinity made sure of that. “Smile, Quinn,” she’d purr in my head, and I’d do it. I’d smile even when every part of me burned with disgust.
“You’re thinking too much,” Trinity says now, her voice playful. “Drink your coffee. Look pretty. Be seen.”
I do. I sip slowly, lean back, and let my gaze drift to the street. The world keeps moving, oblivious to the war I’m fighting from the inside out.
My phone buzzes on the table. I glance down, already knowing who it’s from. Cale.
Before I can reach for it, Derek’s voice cuts through the café’s gentle hum. “Pardon me, Ms. Quinn.” He’s at my side in an instant, his large frame casting a shadow over me. People stare, but they always do. They see the broad-shouldered Beta talking to the refined Luna, and their minds jump to the most dramatic conclusions. They have no idea how wrong they are.
“Yes, Derek?” I keep my voice light, calm, and Luna-like.
“Alpha Cale has asked you to meet him at an address for a meeting ten minutes from here. He’s already nearby.”
“Where?”
Derek hesitates, his jaw clenching. His eyes dart to the side like he doesn’t want to tell me.
“Derek,” I say, low but firm. “Where?”
He sighs. "Blackthorn residence."
My blood goes cold. Ice floods my veins so fast it feels like I might pass out. The Blackthorn residence. No. No, no, no. Not there. Not them.
"Quinn?" Trinity's voice sharpens in my head, sensing the shift in me. "What’s wrong?"
I can’t answer. My breathing’s too shallow. My hands tremble as I reach for my bag, sliding it over my shoulder with a practiced calm I don’t feel.
"Quinn," Trinity’s voice presses harder. "Focus. You’re slipping. Keep it together."
I push out a breath and nod to Derek. "Let’s go."
My steps are steady as I follow him, but inside, I’m crumbling. The Blackthorn residence. Of all places, why there? Why them?
“You can do this,” Trinity says like it’s simple. Easy. “You’ve come too far to break now. You are Quinn, the perfect Luna.”
I nod to myself as we step outside, letting the sun hit my face like a slap. Derek walks ahead, scanning every angle like a soldier on patrol. I watch him. Steady. Reliable. Unshakable. I need to be like him.
We climb into the black SUV, and Derek doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. He knows I’m thinking too much again. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching my gaze for a split second.
"You good, Ms. Quinn?"
No. I’m not good. I’m a storm brewing in a teacup, but I force a smile anyway. "Of course."
We drive in silence, and with every passing mile, my heart beats harder, louder, until I swear Derek can hear it. I clutch my bag tighter, nails digging into the leather, my breathing shallow.
Trinity hums softly in my head. "Don’t look so scared, little Luna. You’ve already won. The game’s yours now. This is just another move on the board."
But I know better. This situation will be unpredictable. Dangerous. Ruthless. Cale didn’t bring me here to show off his perfect Luna. He brought me here for something else.
What does he want me to prove this time?
The SUV slows as we pull into a long driveway. The gates slide open with a heavy, metallic groan. I spot the house—large, modern, and too sleek for a pack of savages like them.
Derek parks, and the moment the engine cuts off, I feel it. A weight. A presence. Eyes watching. Waiting.
The front door swings open slowly, and I see him. Cale. Standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, grin sharp as a blade.
“Come, my Luna,” he calls down to me, his voice warm like honey, but I know better. "We have much to discuss."
I step out of the SUV, the sun too bright, the air too still. My heart thunders in my chest as I look up at him, and for the first time in months, I’m afraid.
“Welcome to the Blackthorn Residence,” he says, his eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than love.
And I know then this is not a meeting.
This is a reckoning.
As she should. Respectfully
The sun was setting low behind the towering Blackthorn estate, casting streaks of amber and crimson across the sky. The place looked more like a fortress than a home, with its wrought-iron gates and endless rows of perfectly trimmed hedges. My heart was already in my throat, but when I saw her walking toward us, I felt my chest tighten like a vice.Casey.Her smile was polite but sharp, the kind that felt like it was carved from marble—cold, unyielding, and fake as hell. She strolled up with the grace of someone who knew she was untouchable, her sleek navy-blue dress hugging her figure just enough to be classy but not so much as to be vulgar. Her eyes flicked to me, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and I knew she was assessing me. Calculating.“They’re waiting for you inside,” Casey said, her eyes darting to Cale like she wasn’t sure if she should curtsy or bow. Her gaze barely touched me. To her, I wasn’t a threat. Not yet, anyway.Cale’s grip on my arm tightened as if h
Being "perfect" was never something I aimed for, but here I am, sitting in a high-end café dressed in a sleek beige outfit that hugs every inch of me like a second skin. My legs are crossed just so, my posture elegant and deliberate. The soft leather of the chair beneath me feels too plush, like it knows I don't belong here. But I make it look like I do. My every movement is measured, calculated, and graceful. I lift my coffee cup to my lips, pinky slightly raised, and sip slowly. My eyes stay forward, focused, even though I can feel the stares of passersby through the glass window.They always look. Men. Women. Even the baristas try to be subtle but fail miserably. I can’t blame them. It’s the aura I’ve built. I’m not just another woman sitting in a café. I’m the Luna. Cale’s Luna.The girl who once flinched at the mention of his name is gone. She’s buried so deep I doubt I could dig her up if I tried. This version of me? She walks beside him into meetings with alphas of other packs,
The smell of rosewater and jasmine clung to my skin, the oils still fresh from the omega women’s hands. My skin felt slick and soft, like I’d been molded from wax and dipped in honey. They’d scrubbed every inch of me, their faces blank as they worked. No words. No kindness. Just hands rough from duty. My hair was pulled back, loose curls spilling over my shoulders, and the dress they’d given me—if it could be called a dress—was nothing more than a slip of silk clinging to my body like a second skin. Every part of me was on display. Every flaw. Every scar. Every reminder of what had been done to me.But they didn’t see that. No one did. Not anymore.I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room and barely recognized myself. Pale blue eyes, sharp and unyielding. Not the dull, lifeless stare I’d seen for years. My gaze flickered with something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Control. Purpose.He thinks he’s testing me.“Trinity,” I whispered in my mind, my lips unmoving."I’m here,
CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains contents of violence that may disturb sensitive readers and can be triggering for survivors of trauma and abuse.(Quinn’s perspective)Pain used to be a constant. Not the kind that fades after a few hours or even days. No, this was the kind that buried itself so deep in your bones that it felt like it would be part of you forever. But now… I don’t feel it anymore.The first time I noticed it, I thought I’d gone numb. It wasn’t a slow process either—one day, I was screaming and thrashing under their blows; the next, I just... stopped. The barbed wire bat hit my ribs with a sickening thwack, but I didn’t flinch. The guard cursed under his breath and swung it again, harder this time. Still nothing. My skin tore, and my bones ached, but there was no reaction. No sound. No satisfaction for them.I’d won that day. Not because I fought back. No, because I didn’t. They couldn’t break me anymore. Their weapons, their fists, their fire—none of it mattered.
(Luca’s perspective)I used to believe in things like love. Loyalty. Humanity. I thought those things made us strong—made me strong.They didn’t. They made me weak. A fool. A dreamer who thought he could keep his world intact with hope and sheer determination.But hope is a liar.It whispered in my ear for months, telling me she’d come back. That I’d find her. That Quinn would be okay.She wasn’t.I knew it the moment I burned the last picture of her. The edges curled under the flame, the image of her face shrinking into black ash. That photograph was the final piece of her—the last link to the boy I used to be.The boy who searched for her.The boy who loved her.Gone.I stood there, staring into the fire as the smoke curled into the night sky. My hand tightened around the lighter until my knuckles turned white. This was it. The final step.I let the lighter fall into the flames, and with it, I let Quinn go.I used to think I was different from my father. That I could lead this pack
CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains contents of violence that may disturb sensitive readers and can be triggering for survivors of trauma and abuse.(Quinn’s perspective)I lay on the cold stone floor, the chill biting into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my bones. Every part of me throbbed, a dull reminder of what I had become—a prisoner, a plaything for the pack to break.My breathing was shallow, each inhale laced with pain. Ribs—probably cracked. Lips—split and crusted with dried blood. Eye—swollen shut. The room stank of iron, sweat, and fear. My fear. Their victory.They’d beaten me again today, just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.At first, I thought I’d die from it. I hoped I would. Death would’ve been a mercy, an escape. But no. My cursed blood healed me. Every single time. Bones snapped back into place, bruises faded, and cuts stitched themselves together. I was the perfect punching bag—never staying broken long enough







