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0.53% Avenging Luna / Chapter 1: Killing Alpha
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Avenging Luna

Autor: lucy_mumbua

© WebNovel

Kapitel 1: Killing Alpha

Prologue:

Leila had always lived in the shadows. From a young age, her father, the Alpha of the Moonshine Pack, forced her into hiding, stripping her of any sense of identity. She was forbidden from playing with the other pups and never once allowed to call her parents "mother" or "father." Instead, they were Luna and Alpha—nothing more, nothing less. To the world, she was just a lone pup the Alpha had rescued after her real parents were killed in a rogue attack. That was the lie she was made to live.

Close members of the pack, like the Beta and his mate, knew the truth—that she was the firstborn of the Alpha. But they played along with the deception, refusing to acknowledge her lineage. Their silence burned deeper than the lie itself.

The day her younger brother was born was the day her world shattered completely. He was celebrated as the true firstborn, the future Alpha. The love and attention that should have been hers were showered upon him. Leila watched as her mother cradled him with tenderness, a tenderness she had never known. Her mother, who should have been her protector, never missed an opportunity to remind Leila of what she was—a mistake. Her father, the Alpha, looked at her with nothing but contempt, calling her an embarrassment and a disappointment.

As she grew older, Leila learned the twisted truth: firstborn Alphas were always male, destined to inherit the title and rule the pack. A female as the firstborn was unheard of, shameful even. Her father had hidden her identity out of fear and scorn, leaving her to be treated like an outcast by the pack. The abuse from the other pack members was constant and relentless, and her father did nothing to stop it. They worked her to the bone, forcing her to clean, cook, and bear the brunt of their cruelty. She tried to gain her father's approval by training in secret, pushing herself to become strong, but when he found out, he forbade her from fighting and ordered her back to the chores.

Then, at eighteen, everything changed. The Moonshine Pack found itself in debt to the ruthless Blood Moon Pack after a deal went sour. When Alpha Vanvil, the leader of Blood Moon, came to collect what was owed, he demanded Leila as part of the payment. Desperate, she begged her father not to send her away, promising she could be useful, but he dismissed her like she was nothing. In that moment, any hope she had left in her heart shattered. That was the moment Leila's heart hardened. As she was handed over to Alpha Vanvil, she swore vengeance against the Moonshine Pack.She left with nothing but the bitterness in her soul and the hatred burning in her heart.

Yet, she had no idea that the true nightmare was just beginning. she was trading one hell for another. Under Alpha Vanvil's rule, she suffered tenfold. She was nothing more than a slave, forced to clean the entire packhouse and cook for the pack members without ever tasting the food she made. Most days, she survived on scraps or nothing at all. She bathed once a week, wore the same tattered clothes, and lived in the filthy basement among rats.

The pack treated her like a toy, something to be used and abused for their own amusement .The children of the pack were no better, little sadists who delighted in watching her heal from the wounds they inflicted. To them, she was nothing more than a plaything, a pet to be tormented. The teenagers were worse, spitting on her, mocking her, and running to Alpha Vanvil with every fabricated tale of rebellion.

And Vanvil... he was the worst of them all. He forced her into the dungeons, making her torture prisoners as he loomed over her, reminding her that it was either their lives or hers. The first time, she wept as she spilled blood. The second time, her tears dried. By the third, she had learned to shut off her humanity entirely, becoming a hollow shell of the girl she once was. She did whatever was asked of her and cried herself to sleep in the cold, dark basement. Her bed was nothing more than a pile of old cardboard, her mind a battlefield of plans for revenge.

Leila's POV:

I killed him! I fucking killed him! Damn, it felt great. I cherished the moment I saw those wicked eyes of his loosing their life. He was shocked. Died surprised that little me could do it. I bet he never saw it coming. He never ever imagine I would be the one to end him.

How the mighty has fallen. As much as I felt relief after killing him I think I left him off easily. I should have made him suffer for everything he has put me through. Any way its now over, I hope he rot in hell for all eternity.

Little did I know I've just open a pandora's box which should have never been opened. But first things first we should run before they see us. We should hide. They won't immediately suspect that I've killed their Alpha, which should buy me enough time to escape. As they scramble to find the culprit and piece together what happened, I should be long gone—far from these barbarians, far from their horrid clutches.

I moved carefully out of the Alpha's chamber, grateful to find the corridor empty. Taking a path known only to me, I slipped through the shadows with practiced ease. Each step was a calculated risk, but I had planned for this moment meticulously. My heart pounded, not just from the adrenaline but from the anticipation of freedom. To achieve that freedom, however, I had to adhere to my plan with unwavering precision.

Mentally ticking off my list: Conceal my scent—check. Sneak into the Alpha's room unnoticed—check. Eliminate the bastard—check. Escape—check.

With each successful step, my confidence grew, but I knew I couldn't relax yet. The true test lay in waiting for the aftermath of the Alpha's death. The pack would soon react, their confusion and grief providing the perfect cover for my escape. As I anticipated, the first signs of commotion erupted as pack members began to notice the anomaly, rushing in a frenzy toward the pack house. Their collective unease and the palpable sense of loss would mask my departure, giving me the opportunity I needed to slip away unnoticed.

 From my vantage point, I watched as the once-organized pack devolved into a scene of chaotic despair. Members scattered in every direction, their panic almost comical in its intensity. I couldn't help but feel a dark satisfaction. They deserved every ounce of this turmoil. Their Alpha's death was a bitter dose of justice, and now it was my time to vanish into the night.

As I observed the frantic pack members, moving about like headless chickens, a grim promise formed in my mind. I vowed to return one day, to come back and finish what I had started. Every single one of them would pay for their arrogance, for their cruelty. None would be spared.

I shifted into my wolf, Layla, feeling the familiar surge of power and instinct take over. Without hesitation, we bolted into the night, our paws pounding against the earth as we sprinted away from the pack. I urged Layla to run faster, the urgency of our escape gnawing at me—soon, they would notice our absence, and the hunt would begin.

We ran without looking back, our only focus on putting as much distance between us and them as possible. Just as we crossed the borders, I heard it—the howls of the pack, signaling the start of the chase. They knew. They were hunting me.

"Goddess, forbid they find me," I whispered to myself, though I knew Layla could hear my thoughts. She growled in response, determined and fierce. 'They will never capture us again,' her resolve echoed in my mind. 'Never again,' even if it means we die in the attempt. I would rather embrace death than face the horror of being captured once more.

We zigzagged through the dense forest, weaving between trees to throw off our pursuers. Layla moved with such grace and precision, her instincts guiding us effortlessly through the thick underbrush. We ran until the sounds of the pack faded into the distance, until the only noise was the rustling of leaves and our own labored breaths. Finally, our strength waned, and we collapsed onto the forest floor, the cool earth welcoming our exhausted bodies. As darkness began to claim my consciousness, a single thought lingered in my mind: 'So this is what freedom tastes like.

Before I opened my eyes, I sensed something was off. The floor beneath me was too soft, far too comfortable for the forest floor I had last felt. Had I somehow ended up in heaven? As I blinked awake, I found myself in a room with a scent that drove Layla, my wolf, into a frenzy. The fragrance was alien, confusing, and unsettling. One thing was clear—I had not expected to wake up in a soft, cozy bed. The last thing I remembered was the cold, unforgiving forest floor.

Wait a minute—where were my clothes? Panic surged through me as I realized I was clad only in my panties and sports bra. Someone is going to pay for this, I thought fiercely.

Just then, the door creaked open, and instinct took over. I sprang from the bed and launched myself at the intruder, not caring in the slightest about my state of undress. My adrenaline-fueled fury was all that mattered.

"Woah... chill out, mate!" the intruder exclaimed, raising their hands in a gesture of surrender. "No need to be so aggressive."

"I didn't know you were that desperate," he quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. "At least not at the doorway." The teasing lilt in his voice was unmistakable. It was only then that Layla, my wolf, alerted me to the truth—I had just attacked my mate. I quickly released my grip from his neck, which I had been seconds away from crushing.

'Shit,' I thought, suddenly realizing the full extent of my situation. I was practically naked. Scrambling to my feet, I darted to the bed, snatching the bedsheet and wrapping it around myself in a poor attempt to preserve my dignity.

"Oh, so now you're shy?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "After nearly molesting me at the door? Hush, don't cover yourself. I was just starting to enjoy the view."

The tall, attractive man, whom I now realized was indeed my mate, flashed me a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. My cheeks flared with heat, and I desperately needed a distraction.

"If I may ask, where am I and what's your name?" I stammered, hoping to steer the conversation away from my recent embarrassment.

"Mmmh," he mused, as if savoring the sound of my voice. "Well, mate has a pretty voice," he murmured to himself, almost as if forgetting I was standing right there. 'Great,' I thought, 'I'm mated to a lunatic.'

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I felt an overwhelming pull, a magnetic force drawing me into uncharted waters I wasn't sure I was ready to navigate. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made my heart race.

"Okay, so apparently you're in my room," he said, gesturing to our surroundings with a casual sweep of his hand. "And as for my name, I'm Drake, but my wolf's name is Gile. Though, to be honest, we'd both prefer if you called us something more...endearing, like honey, babe, or whatever that pretty mind of yours can conjure up."

One thing was clear from this ordeal: I was mated to a sweet-talking charmer. As much as his wit and good looks might have swayed another, I knew better. Drake was a distraction, and distractions were the last thing I could afford right now—not until I had exacted my vengeance, not until everyone who had wronged me was dead by my hand. I couldn't allow myself to fall for him. Happiness, love, and all those lovey-dovey feelings weren't in my future. They simply weren't meant for me.


next chapter

Kapitel 2: Mate

Knowing he didn't want to spill the beans about which pack I was currently in, I decided to act like he wasn't even there. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself," I muttered, feeling a bit dramatic for added effect. I marched over to his closet, rifling through it as if I were hunting for treasure. I snatched up a shirt and a hoodie, not caring if he threw a fit. After all, he was the one who had undressed me, and his aim with my clothes seemed to be as erratic as his aim with darts—since they were nowhere in sight.

As I made my way to the bathroom, I could feel his eyes boring into my back like laser beams. I shot him a sidelong glance. "What?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Don't mind me, sweet," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Gile and I are just admiring our mate from afar. But it would be a huge favor if you could ditch that fashion disaster you're wrapped in. It's giving us second-hand embarrassment." 

I gave him a look that said, "Seriously?" before I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door with as much force as I could muster. The loud bang was followed by his hearty chuckle, which seemed to follow me even into the bathroom. I could almost hear him saying, "Maybe you'll find your sense of style in there too!"

Determined not to let him get on my nerves, I showered quickly and pulled on his shirt and hoodie. And boy, were they enormous! I had to fold the sleeves up about four times just to see my hands. I gathered my hair into a messy ponytail, then grabbed a black cap I found hanging on a hook. Putting it on hiding my face like I wanted it to and, voilà, my outfit was complete.

Satisfied with my impromptu ensemble, I emerged from the bathroom. "Whoa, sweet, you're really giving me a hard time here," Drake said, his eyes roaming over my outfit with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

I scrunched up my nose at the nickname he'd given me. "Sweet" was the last thing I was. The "sweet" version of me had been buried a long time ago—Alpha Vanvil made sure of that before I finished him off. That sweet version wouldn't have had the courage to do what I did. The sweet me was six feet under buried in the darkness fueled by vengeance. And I would love it to remain like that because sweetness and innocence was not something I needed right now.

The real problem was the shoes—his were so comically large that even trying to make them work was a joke. I tried searching around the room, under the bed on his shoes rack but nothing. "Where are my shoes?" I demanded, turning to Drake, who was now lounging on the bed with an odd smirk.

Drake's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You know, if you keep bending over like that, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold myself back. The hoodie might be long, but it's not long enough to cover everything when you bend."

I shot him a look that could have frozen lava. "Hey, buddy, my eyes are up here," I said, noting that his gaze had strayed to my legs, making me shiver with a mixture of irritation and unexpected delight. "Stupid mate bond," I muttered under my breath, assuming he heard me when he chuckled. The sound wasn't helping my already frazzled nerves. 

"You know," he said with a grin, "I could be your feet and carry you wherever you want to go."

I rolled my eyes at his suggestion. Well, if he wasn't going to help me find my shoes, I might as well show him I didn't mind going without them. It wasn't like I'd worn shoes much before. Back at the Blood Moon Pack, I'd been a slave, and the ragged clothes and shoes I had were just what I'd stolen from a girl there before I shifted and escaped.

I turned on my heel and headed for the door. "Hey, not so fast!" Drake called after me, his voice dripping with playful frustration. Looking down at his pants he said, "What am I going to do with this problem you've caused? I can't just follow you around like this."

I knew exactly what he was hinting at and shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't ask you to accompany me." Without waiting for his response, I dashed out of the room, my cheeks burning from his teasing and the way his brown eyes had been looking at me.

I needed to get out of this pack house—wherever it was—before this mate bond thing turned my plans into a total disaster. I hoped that nobody had seen Drake escorting me to his room, especially not the Alpha or Beta of this so-called pack.

Drake's room, apparently located in what was definitely a pack house, was on the third floor. The grand staircase seemed to stretch endlessly as I made my way down, each step taken with the utmost stealth to avoid making any noise. I hoped against hope that no one would be coming up or down the stairs. The last thing I needed was to bump into someone, especially in my current state—looking like a misplaced scarecrow with no shoes.

The cacophony of voices from the kitchen hit me like a wave as I approached the ground floor. It sounded like a small crowd was gathered there, which did nothing for my already heightened nerves. I took a deep breath and made a beeline for the door, trying to stay out of sight. My heart raced as I silently navigated through the hallways, each creak of the floorboards sending a jolt through me.

The thought of encountering anyone, especially in this disheveled state, was unbearable. I maneuvered around corners with exaggerated caution, my mind racing with scenarios of how I'd explain myself if caught. With every step, I hoped the door to the outside would appear sooner rather than later.

As I reached the entrance, the clamor from the kitchen grew louder, intensifying my anxiety. I glanced over my shoulder one last time, bracing myself for any potential interruptions. The door was almost within reach. Just a few more steps and I could escape this chaotic pack house and figure out my next move.

I couldn't believe my luck. Just as I was opening the door, relieved that I hadn't been spotted, I nearly walked straight into a girl about my age. She was impeccably dressed, her clothes clearly indicating she was one of those "girly girls" with a soprano voice that could probably shatter glass. And sure enough, she didn't disappoint.

"AAAH! Why are you wearing my man's clothes?" she shrieked, her voice piercing the air and drawing a crowd of onlookers like moths to a flame. Her scream cut through the hallway, and before I knew it, my stealthy escape plan had gone up in flames.

The girl continued to scream, her words tumbling out in a rapid-fire succession that I couldn't even begin to decipher. The gist of it became clear, though—Drake had a girlfriend, and this was her. And from the way she was carrying on, it seemed she wasn't thrilled about seeing me in her boyfriend's clothes.

I could feel my frustration boiling over. Not only was I stuck in a pack I didn't want to be in, but now I was being yelled at by a self-absorbed drama queen. My irritation flared up, and before I could think twice, I landed a punch squarely on her jaw. The impact was enough to knock her out cold, and she crumpled to the floor, giving me a brief moment of blessed silence.

The crowd of onlookers stared at me in stunned silence for a moment before some of them started giving me thumbs up, as if I'd done them a favor. Apparently, in this pack, knocking out one of their own earned you a round of applause. I was starting to suspect that Drake wasn't the only lunatic around here.

With the unexpected support of the crowd and a path cleared, I took my chance and bolted for the exit. My mind raced with the realization that I was dealing with a pack that seemed to reward chaos and disorder. Whatever pack this was, it was definitely not where I wanted to be.

 


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