The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Zaliver’s POV

My hand was around his throat before he could finish the sentence. I yanked him up, chair and all, lifting him until we were eye to eye. His feet scraped uselessly against the concrete, the chains rattling in violent protest.

I brought him in close, my breath a snarl against his face as my beast coiled in fury within me, trying to break free.

"You just made your biggest mistake Alpha god."

"So, it is a he, then?" I asked, keeping my tone deceptively even, though I could feel the fury breaking through my expression.

Jack’s eyes rolled back, a silent act of defiance, or perhaps unconsciousness trying to claim him, but I still found it rude.

I dropped him without warning, letting the chair slam back down.

"You’ll talk. They always do," I said flatly, dusting off my hands. "And don’t think I have forgotten the little bitch comment."

My jaw clenched as I stepped forward again. Grabbing his right leg, I yanked it up, stretching it high in the air at an awkward, agonizing angle. My fingers closed tight around his ankle. With one swift, relentless jerk to the side, the bone cracked and snapped like a dry twig.

His howl of agony ripped through the air. I let the severed leg drop, the grotesque sight of bone protruding from torn muscle hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

He thrashed and moaned, desperate to escape the pain, but I was already reaching for his other leg. When he tried to kick me away with what little strength he had left, I caught his foot mid-air. I didn’t flinch. I pulled hard, relentless and without hesitation.

Another scream, rawer this time, more desperate. I welcomed it with great satisfaction.

Before the sound had even finished echoing, I dropped the second limb beside the first and reached down, retrieving one of the bloody strips of flesh I had peeled off him earlier. Moving with cold precision, I shoved the chunk straight into his mouth.

Let him taste what he thought he could spit at me. Let him slowly choke on it.

His shrieks cut off instantly, replaced by violent gagging and the sickening sputter of coughing. Saliva and blood coated his chin as he tried to purge the violation, but it was too late. His body trembled uncontrollably, his legs twitching violently as he tried to avoid scraping the ruined stumps against the floor.

Tears streamed from his bloodshot eyes, mixing with sweat and grime. He looked down at the mess of flesh and broken bones beneath him, the finality of his situation sinking in.

I crouched beside him again, tilting my head.

"Now for the part I am sure you have been dreading," I murmured.

His gaze flicked toward the tray nearby, specifically to the small container that had been steaming gently this entire time. His eyes widened. I could practically taste his terror.

Sweet!!

I opened the lid and dipped the tips of my clawed fingers inside, letting the liquid silver coat them. Steam curled around my hands like smoke from hell.

"You already know I am no ordinary wolf," I said softly, stepping closer. "But I have always wondered... how do wolves respond to silver? I mean, I already know, of course. But watching it happen... that’s something else."

Jack was pale now, his skin translucent, his veins raised and pulsing from the massive blood loss. His healing had completely stalled, overwhelmed by trauma and the realization that I wasn’t done.

"Give me a name, Jack," I growled, my voice low and deadly. I pressed the tip of my silver-coated claw lightly against his chest, directly over his heart.

"N-no..." he choked out, his eyes squeezing shut.

I sighed as if disappointed, then drove the claw in.

His skin sizzled instantly, bubbling and scorching around my finger. The sharp, acidic stench of burned flesh filled the room. He screamed again, louder than before, the sound echoing off the concrete like a death wail.

With my other hand, I dragged my claws across his stomach, stripping away the skin in wet, sticky layers. I ripped it clean and watched as his body writhed, unable to regenerate, unable to endure.

His head shook side to side, tears pouring freely. Every fiber of his being screamed for mercy. My mercy

But mercy wasn’t mine to give.

Whistling softly, I circled around him, wiping my fingers casually on the hem of my shirt as if I hadn’t just promised him hell.

I stopped behind him and gripped the back of his neck. My claws didn’t even need to shift fully; the sheer pressure of my hold made him jolt like a cornered animal. I yanked him up effortlessly, letting his feet dangle as he thrashed like a fish on a hook.

"Still not ready to talk?" I asked as he spat bloody saliva onto the floor. I tilted my head. "Alright. Let’s see if this makes you a little more cooperative."

Keeping one hand clamped around his throat, I thrust the other straight into his lower back. My claws pierced muscle and sinew with ease. His scream was instant, raw, but I didn’t flinch. My fingers wrapped around the thick strand of his spinal cord, and I pulled.

Snap.

His body went slack from the waist down, crumpling like a puppet with cut strings. I ripped my hand back, leaving a section of his spine exposed and hanging grotesquely from his torn flesh.

Circling back to face him, I wiped my blood-soaked hand across his cheek. His skin twitched at the touch, his eyes wide with paralyzing terror. He wasn’t even seeing me anymore, just the pain. The horror. The mind-shattering truth that he was completely broken.

"Y-You’re a monster. You will go to h-hell," he choked out, his voice trembling.

A grin pulled at my lips. "Of course I will," I whispered, leaning in close. "Someone has to rule it."

I chuckled low and cruel, stepping behind him once more.

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