Where Have You Been?

Chapter Six: Where Have You Been?

The sun had barely begun to rise when Luna pushed the front door open.

The old hinges groaned like they were tattling on her.

She slipped inside, shoes in hand, holding her breath. If she could just get up the stairs, maybe—just maybe—she could avoid—

"Where the hell have you been?"

Miranda's voice stabbed through the silence.

Luna froze at the base of the stairs. Her stepmother stood in the doorway, a stained robe clinging to her frame, arms crossed tight, eyes already ablaze.

"I said," Miranda growled, stepping closer, "where were you?"

"I just went for a walk."

"At three in the morning?" She snorted. "What were you walking into? Some man's bed?"

"No," Luna said quickly, but her voice faltered. "I—I couldn't sleep. I needed air."

"You come back in different clothes. Hair all messy. You smell like sweat and perfume. You think I'm stupid?"

Luna's jaw clenched. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Miranda raised a hand—Luna flinched—but instead of hitting her, Miranda shoved her hard against the stairs. "Lying tramp. I should've known you'd turn out like your mother."

"I'm not my mother," Luna said through gritted teeth.

"No," Miranda sneered. "Your mother had some use. You? You're just a burden. Do you think wandering around like that won't bring shame on this house? Who do you think you are, running off into the night?"

Luna pushed past her and started up the stairs. "I'm not running. I'm surviving."

"You think this world gives a damn about your survival?" Miranda spat. "You've got nothing. You are nothing."

But Luna didn't turn around.

She climbed each step with fire in her chest, pain in her throat, and something new burning in her veins:

Defiance.

Last night had shown her a glimpse of something else—a world where she was seen, where someone had stepped in for her without demanding anything in return.

And even if it was fleeting, even if it was just one night of conversation and protection…

It reminded her of something she'd almost forgotten:

She deserved more than this.

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Later that day Damian an emergency call...

The Elders

Blood on Their Hands

Damian stood at the edge of the forest clearing, the sharp scent of blood still thick in the air.

It hadn't rained in days, and the ground was dry—yet there were tracks everywhere. Large. Wild. Wolf.

But what disturbed him most was what lay at the center of it all.

Two bodies. Human.

Mangled.

Ripped apart.

He clenched his jaw, fists curled tight at his sides. The night breeze stirred the trees like whispers of judgment.

Three wolves stood before him now—young, stupid, and reeking of guilt. They were from the southern pack, arrogant and reckless. He had warned them before. Controlled them. Punished them.

But now… they'd crossed the line.

"They were hunters," one of them stammered. "They had guns—they shot first!"

"You tore them apart," Damian said flatly, voice like steel. "You didn't disarm them. You slaughtered them."

"They were on our land—"

"That land is still under human law."

He stepped forward, and they shrank back. His power pressed down like a stormcloud.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he said, deadly calm. "This wasn't just bloodshed. This was exposure."

A howl echoed from far off—distant, mournful.

It was enough to make the three fall silent, fear finally sinking into their bones.

Damian turned away from them and looked toward his Beta, a tall man named Rafe with silver streaks in his dark hair and eyes like a hawk.

"Clean this up," Damian said. "Now. Burn everything. Scatter the ashes."

"And the boys?" Rafe asked.

Damian didn't hesitate. "Take them to the eastern cliffs. Lock them down. I'll decide their fate once the Elders are informed."

He paused, then added darkly, "If it were up to me, I'd rip their throats out myself."

Rafe gave a short nod and began barking orders.

As the bodies were wrapped, and the forest began to return to silence, Damian stood alone once more, staring into the trees.

His fingers twitched. His beast, barely caged, stirred inside him.

This is why I stay distant, he reminded himself.

This is why I don't get close.

Everything around him was blood and violence, masks and control. He couldn't afford softness. Couldn't afford weakness.

And yet…

Her face flashed across his mind.

Luna. Fragile but defiant. Lost, yet burning with fire.

He had seen something in her—something he didn't want to admit.

But now wasn't the time for feelings. The line between the human world and the werewolf realm was thinning, and if things like this kept happening…

There would be war.

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