All Chapters of Loner for Luna: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

PrueI’ve done my homework. For the past week, I’ve tracked Tom like a shadow – eyes on him at school, eyes on him after. I know his routine better than he does. When he trains. When he showers. When his doting parents get home from work and start slicing vegetables like it’s a cooking show. Such a wholesome picture of little loving family.Only child. Of course he is. Explains that inflated sense of importance he struts around with.It’s Monday night. Tom’s at basketball practice. His parents have been home for about thirty minutes – chopping, frying, laughing like the world’s still safe. Oh, the perks of wolf senses. Eavesdropping is a breeze when you can hear onions sizzling from a block away.If you saw me now, you wouldn’t recognize me.Red, blue, yellow, and purple bruises blot my arms, my legs, even my face. I look like a crime scene had a baby with a Jackson Pollock painting. A rattled, twitchy rainbow. What about superhealing, you ask? Let’s just say I kept my wolf on a stric

PrueI heard my alarm and immediately wanted to die. Despite the decent sleep, I felt like I’d been body-slammed by Monday itself. I groaned, slapping my phone to shut it up. Head pounding, stomach churning – ugh, why did I feel like I’d only slept four hours? Since when was seven hours not enough?Maybe the teenage hormones were doing overtime again. Though, at nineteen, I should’ve been past that stage, right?Little help here, I whined to my wolf, still buried under the weight of exhaustion.She responded with a gentle push – an odd, out-of-body feeling, like I’d just become a puppet dragged by invisible strings. My limbs moved on their own, nudging me upright, then toward the bathroom.And just like that, I was standing in the shower as warm water jolted me awake like a caffeinated slap to the face. I always said my wolf had impeccable timing, especially during miserable mornings like this. She always knew what I needed. We were synced like Bluetooth.While I washed, I mentally bra

PrueI was a sobbing mess, my chest tight, throat raw, tears spilling freely down my cheeks as I sat across from the principal. My fingers trembled as I clutched the edge of the chair, trying to steady myself, to find strength in the middle of the storm swirling inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to remember all the lonely nights I cried myself to sleep because I had to grow up without a mom. This pain wasn’t new – but right now, it felt fresh all over again. And it was exactly what I needed to look like a victim.I finally looked up, my voice cracking like glass."Why am I even here?"The principal, composed behind his desk, replied with maddening calm."Fighting is not allowed in our school."I let out a bitter laugh, the sound wet with grief and fury. It’s not like I didn’t expect to end up in this chair after the scene I caused in the cafeteria. Too many prying eyes who liked to add oil into the fire by ratting other students to principals.But one of the greatest skill

PrueI sit at my usual table with my girls, trying to tune into the chatter around me, but I feel edgy – like I'm being watched. No, not just watched – glared at.I scan the room, and sure enough, it’s him. The Alpha. He’s watching me like he’s daring me to breathe wrong, eyes firing sharp, silent accusations across the cafeteria.If you don’t like me, don’t look at me, as.shole.The thought flares hot in my head.I try to chew my sandwich, but his damn stare dries my throat like I’ve swallowed dust. I choke down some juice, hoping it’ll help the food go down. It doesn't.I can't focus on food or the conversation. My skin itches under his gaze. He's pissing me off. I need him off my back – or in this case, out of my face.“Do you like girls, Kate?” I blurt.She blinks, caught off guard. Her eyes widen for half a second before she schools her expression, but I’ve already seen it. I narrow mine, studying her face like I’m daring her to dodge the question. Is she gonna lie? Or is she jus

AndrewI felt her before I saw her.Her scent hit first – that earthy and citric smell mixed with bathroom products of wild cherry, vanilla, heat. Like sin baked into sugar. It made my wolf rear up, clawing just beneath my skin, howling for a claim I hadn’t accepted, hadn’t chosen – but felt anyway. I hated that it thrilled me. Hated that it made me brace. And still, I looked.And there she was. Walking in like a Porche I couldn’t afford.Every male eye followed her. So did mine. I didn’t even try to stop it. Sexy top on. That skirt – Goddess help me – that skirt was war. No, she was war. And I was already bleeding from wounds she hadn’t even delivered yet.Her gaze locked on mine. My lungs squeezed.Then she started her performance. And that’s what it was – a calculated, dangerous, dazzling performance. Every move rehearsed to make me burn. The lollipop. The too-sweet voice. The saccharine seduction she poured over some poor bastard who just happened to sit too close.Jealousy flared