The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Zaliver’s POV

Slipping back into my own skin, I let the shadows curl around me like an old friend. Whatever worry lingered in the air around Albericus and Hogan didn’t faze me. If anything, their unease only fueled the slow, dangerous grin spreading across my face. I nodded once at Albericus, and I could see the sharp awareness flash through his eyes. He knew what was coming next. The time for restraint was over.

Every trace of exhaustion in my limbs vanished like it had never existed. My spine straightened, and I rolled my shoulders back until a satisfying crack echoed through the room. The tension in the air thickened. I didn’t bother pushing my hair from my eyes. Let it hang wild. I welcomed the eerie effect it gave me.

I lifted a single finger and pointed it at my Beta, my voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

"Jack Ruston. You’ll find him holed up four blocks from his mate’s last known residence, in a crumbling place called the Legrove Hotel. Room 42. If he catches wind of you, he’ll bolt for the roof. Drag him back and toss him into a holding cell beneath the compound. I want him untouched, but not unshaken. Go."

Albericus didn’t waste a second. He barked commands into his phone, emerald eyes gleaming with that barely-contained feral energy he was infamous for. He knew what this meant. We were back in the game, and blood was on the line.

I turned toward Hogan with a flick of my wrist. I didn’t need words for him to feel the full weight of my displeasure.

"You. You’re lucky, Hogan," I said, letting each word drip with quiet promise. "Protocol is the only reason you’re not currently torn apart and dropped into shark-infested waters. Now, I want every name, every call, every meeting Jack Ruston’s had over the past three months. Leave no shadow unsearched."

Hogan was already moving before I’d finished, practically leaving scorch marks on the floor. I could still smell the sweat on him.

I didn’t care.

I had my rat. Now I needed the web he’d scurried through.

And when I found the one who’d dared orchestrate this, I would show them exactly why even demons hesitated before crossing me. I’d lived through centuries of war, blood, and betrayal. I hadn’t just survived them. I’d mastered them.

With a slow exhale, I let a smile stretch across my face.

It was time to let the beast play.

..

Vivian’s POV

The scent of sizzling food stirred me awake. Warm and comforting, but it didn’t stop the heaviness in my chest as I glanced at the empty side of the bed.

I bit down on my lip.

Every morning, the same thing. I’d wake, reach without thinking, and find nothing but cool sheets. I didn’t know why I kept doing it.

Sighing, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, letting my joints crack and pop as I made my way downstairs. The smell of bacon got stronger, but so did the tension. As I stepped into the kitchen, the awkward energy hit me immediately, thick enough to choke on.

Dad sat at the table with a strip of bacon halfway to his mouth, posture stiff like a guilty schoolboy. Mom was leaned against the fridge, arms crossed over her neatly pressed shirt, giving him the kind of glare that could turn steel molten. I paused in the doorway taking it all in.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

They both looked at me. Dad seemed relieved to have a buffer. Mom was decidedly less welcoming about my presence.

I sat at the far end of the table where a warm plate was waiting. Even with food in front of me, I couldn’t ignore the weight in the air. Mom kept glancing at me, eyebrows raised, silently begging me to ask something. Anything.

That classic look. Like she was sitting on a piece of gossip and trying very hard not to be the one who brought it up first.

I sighed through a mouthful of eggs and gave in.

"All right. What is it?"

"So, how was your date last night?" I asked, trying to suppress a smirk. Twenty years together and they still went on little dates. I always thought it was sweet.

I hoped I’d get that someday. With my mate.

A sudden ache pulsed in my chest.

Ugh. Where did that come from?

My dad groaned from across the table, snapping me back. He shot me a look of pure betrayal for asking the question. I just shrugged and bit back a grin. With a dramatic sigh, he dropped his head onto the table.

Mom, on the other hand, looked more than ready to talk.

"Oh, don’t even get me started. You won’t believe what your father did last night," she huffed, voice thick with indignation.

"Honey," Dad groaned without lifting his head, "how many times do I have to tell you? I was not flirting with that woman. I only have eyes for you."

The helpless way he muttered it made me chuckle. Poor guy.

"What happened?" I asked, glancing at Mom.

Her eyes practically lit up with fire. "This man right here," she began, pointing at him like he was on trial, "this same man I chose to marry and start a family with, despite his many screw-ups while we were dating, was flirting with the waitress."

"Was not!" Dad lifted his head with a look of genuine disbelief. "And do you really have to bring up all my old mistakes? I said sorry about the hair thing. It grew back, didn’t it?"

"You set my hair on fire, Chace!"

"It was an accident!"

Mom wasn’t buying it. "Shut your face, Chace, before I shut it for you."

Dad dropped his head back onto the table with a defeated groan.

I was genuinely laughing now.

"As I was saying," Mom continued, shooting me a long-suffering look, "we were just ordering dinner when he found out the restaurant served organic food. Suddenly he’s asking the waitress everything. ’What’s your name?’ ’How long have you worked here?’ ’Has the place always been organic?’ All wide-eyed and charming."

Dad shot me a helpless look. I raised a brow.

"Mom. Dad’s a food critic," I reminded her gently.

She waved a hand. "Excuses. I expected loyalty. Especially from you. I was in labor with you for twenty hours."

She pointed a dramatic finger at me like she was about to declare war.

I raised both hands in surrender and stood, picking up my plate. "I’m not on anyone’s side."

Then I paused.

"Actually, scratch that. I’m on the side that feeds me. Or wins. Good luck, Dad."

I walked out of the kitchen with a laugh, heading for the living room.

"Gee, thanks, sweetheart! Really feeling the family support!" Dad called after me.

I laughed harder.

Despite everything, I knew they were fine. Dad adored Mom’s fire, and Mom needed someone who would argue with her and then forgive her every time without question. It was chaotic, but it was theirs, and it worked.

I flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote. I needed noise. Their voices faded into the background, though lately my hearing had sharpened enough that even muffled sounds came through more clearly than they used to. One of the many things changing in me whether I asked for it or not.

I flicked through channels without settling on anything.

Everything felt heightened lately, louder, more textured, like someone had turned up the dials on the world just to test me.

Channel after channel flashed past.

"How could you—"

"Buy this now for only—"

"Delivered fresh to your—"

"Squat, ladies! Feel the burn—"

"Tú quién piensas—"

"...not the father—"

"Damon, this is serious!" Elena screamed from the TV.

I snorted. The number of times someone screamed that name on that show was genuinely impressive.

Still, for a little while, it felt good to get lost in the noise. Even if my thoughts were still tangled and my body felt like it was operating on someone else’s settings, at least this was something like normal.

Just for a little while.

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