The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Zaliver’s POV

I clamped my hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave him a rough shake, leaning in until my voice was the only thing in his universe.

"What did I tell you, Jack? Breathe. It’s all in your head."

His head wobbled up slowly, his pupils dilated and lost. He sucked in breath after frantic breath like a drowning man hitting the surface. Bit by bit, the illusion peeled back from his mind. His legs were still intact. His flesh was unmarred. No blood. No exposed spine. Just a chair. Just me.

Then the reality hit him, and he started to cry.

I rolled my eyes and stepped in front of him with my arms folded, watching the breakdown unfold.

"B-But it felt real! I-I felt it. The pain... I still feel it!" His voice cracked as violent tremors racked his body. Hysteria was crawling in, his mind teetering right on the edge of breaking entirely.

He was weak the second he let the darkness into his soul. And I? I was its master. I bent it, twisted it, and made him feel every agonizing second. Three minutes—that’s all the illusion took. But for Jack, it had felt like a lifetime of bleeding out, of dying over and over again.

Stepping closer, I grabbed his face roughly, forcing his bloodshot eyes to meet mine.

"I could make it real," I said coldly. "Run you through it all over again without the mercy of illusion this time. But honestly? I don’t need to. You’ve already broken. No mate. No grip on reality. And your body is shaking from pain that never even happened."

I leaned in, my voice a quiet mockery. "Now, about that information..."

I placed both hands against his temples and shoved my mind into his.

Jack screamed—a raw, pathetic sound that echoed off the concrete.

His mental defenses were nonexistent. The trauma, the grief, the sheer physical exhaustion had left him wide open. I plowed past his favorite memories—the hollow echoes of laughter and love—pushing deeper until I hit the part he tried hardest to bury: the moment his mate died.

The bond that had barely begun to bloom had shattered into jagged shards, tearing through his spirit and leaving him cold. I could feel his despair, his darkness, the quiet snap of something sacred being ripped away.

Deeper. I needed more.

Then I found it.

"Hmm..." I murmured, my eyes narrowing. Something was off. Something didn’t add up.

I lingered a few seconds longer, combing through every fractured piece of his mind and locking away what I needed. Then I withdrew sharply.

Jack slumped in the chair like a discarded husk. Whether he was unconscious or dead, I didn’t particularly care.

"Kill me..." he whimpered, lifting his head just enough for his broken voice to carry.

I crouched until I was eye-level with him, letting my cold stare anchor his fading gaze.

"Not today," I said flatly.

I stood and turned my back, already done with him. Let the darkness finish what I started.

"I should keep you locked in a room like this," I muttered, my voice as cold as the concrete walls surrounding us. "Let you suffer the same pain you inflicted. Let you rot here with her scent clinging to everything, constantly reminded of what you destroyed... of what your life could’ve been if I hadn’t killed your mate."

He broke down again—tears spilling over, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I stood over him, my presence suffocating what little air remained in the room. My steps echoed as I circled, feeding on his dread.

I gripped his jaw, forcing his face up to meet mine. "But I’ve got better things to do."

With a swift, practiced twist, I snapped his neck.

No hesitation. No pause for guilt.

I stepped out into the hallway and summoned two enforcers to clean up the mess. My voice was completely flat—no emotion, just another task finished.

Back in my office, I paced the length of the room. My mind kept replaying everything from earlier with Albericus, but I couldn’t stop fidgeting. Something in the air felt wrong.

Then it hit me.

A sudden wave of sharp, panicked dread rushed through the mind-link I shared with the four wolves I’d stationed to guard Vivian.

I froze mid-step and turned to face Albericus. He stopped speaking, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it?"

I held up a hand, silencing him as I focused inward.

I had muted the bond earlier, but as I snapped it back into focus, I felt... nothing. Vivian was still there; I could feel her presence, but her emotions were completely blocked off. Closed tight. She wasn’t sleeping—she was wide awake, and cold.

Too cold.

A second later, Luke reached out through the link. His voice was clipped and controlled, but I caught the underlying tension he was trying to hide.

"Alpha."

My jaw tightened. "Talk. What happened? Is she okay?"

The beat of silence that followed made my blood run ice-cold.

"She remembers," Luke said finally, his voice dropping low. "She told me to tell you she’s coming back."

I straightened, the breath knocked straight out of my lungs.

"And it’s not a request."

Fuck.

Shock detonated in my chest. She knows. She remembers.

"How?" my voice came out low and dangerous.

"She... saw us," Luke admitted.

"You let her see you?!" I roared, a growl tearing from deep within my chest. Across the desk, Albericus practically jumped out of his seat.

Luke scrambled to explain—how she’d tricked them, how none of them had seen it coming. As he spoke, I moved stiffly toward my desk and collapsed into my chair, my head pounding.

"Fine," I cut in after a long pause. "I’ll send the plane tomorrow. Let her leave whenever she wants. Keep me updated."

"Yes, Alpha."

The link went quiet.

I dragged my hands down my face, pressing my palms into my eyes. My chest ached.

She remembered. She fucking remembered.

Albericus was watching me carefully, his expression cautious. "What happened?"

I met his gaze. "She remembers."

His eyes widened. "What? How? Are you serious?"

"She spotted the guards," I said through clenched teeth. "And now she’s completely shut her side of the bond off."

He let out a low whistle. "That’s not easy to do—especially not with a bond as strong as yours."

A flicker of reluctant pride stirred in my chest. She had resisted a direct command and fought through the mental fog I’d placed her in. My mate was strong.

But that pride didn’t drown out the creeping dread.

"She threw a knife at Luke," I added dryly. "Right after showing up with blood on her face and faking a stab wound just to draw them out."

Albericus stared at me, his jaw slacking. With every word, his eyes widened further until he finally cracked a smirk and let out a low laugh.

"Yeah, no. You’re fucked."

I sighed, letting my head drop back.

"Very."

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