Avenging Luna
Chapter 43: Ghost from the past

Chapter 43: Ghost from the past

LEILA’S POV

We walked out of Lily’s room, her sobs echoing in the sterile hospital corridor as Nelly cradled the baby, trying to soothe him. Lily’s begging had been relentless, but there was no undoing what had been revealed. The truth was out, and now, one problem was finally dealt with. But as we left her behind, my mind shifted to the much bigger issue looming on the horizon.

’Raphael.’ The name alone sent a shiver down my spine.

As we moved toward the car, a storm of thoughts swirled in my mind. ’What am I going to do about Raphael?’ My heart pounded with anxiety. ’Will he recognize me? Should I tell Drake about my origins?’ The questions spiraled, growing louder and more insistent.

I couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at me. Drake had marked me—he had claimed me as his mate. But what would happen when he found out the truth? ’Will he regret it when he learns who I really am?’ The thought of him looking at me with disgust, of him turning away from me, was unbearable. The uncertainty of it all made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering, waiting for the ground to give way beneath me.

As we reached the car, Lucas called out to Drake, pulling him aside. Drake gave me a reassuring look, though I could sense his tension through our bond. "I’ll be right back," he said, his voice strained as he walked toward Lucas.

I watched them from a distance, my anxiety growing. They were too far away for me to hear clearly, but I strained my wolf hearing, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. The only words that reached me were "Blood Moon Pack." My heart leaped at the mention of it. ’Drake is still going to help me gain my revenge,’ I thought with a mix of anticipation and fear. Finally, after all this time, I would have a chance to destroy that awful pack. But what would it cost me?

When Drake returned, I could feel the fury radiating off him even before I saw his face. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and through the mate bond, his anger seeped into me like a toxic fog. He didn’t say a word as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, the engine roaring to life with a growl that matched his mood.

"Drake, what’s wrong?" I asked cautiously, hoping to break through his silence.

He didn’t reply, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The tension between us was thick, suffocating, and I knew better than to push him when he was like this. But the silence was killing me. I had no idea what had happened between him and Lucas, and the not knowing made my anxiety skyrocket. I bit my lip, trying to guess what could have possibly angered him so much. ’Was it something about the Blood Moon Pack? Had Raphael already contacted him?’ The questions swirled in my mind, but Drake’s stony silence gave me no clues.

He drove us back to the pack house at a breakneck speed, weaving through the streets like a man possessed. The whole time, he didn’t so much as glance in my direction. My stomach churned with unease. Whatever had happened, it was bad—bad enough that Drake couldn’t even bring himself to talk to me about it.

When we finally reached the pack house, Drake parked the car so abruptly that I lurched forward in my seat. Before I could even catch my breath, he was out of the car, striding over to my side. He yanked the door open, his movements sharp and almost angry.

"We need to talk," he said curtly, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the car with a force that left no room for argument. My heart raced as he led me into the pack house, his grip on my hand tight and unyielding. I could feel the anger boiling inside him, and it seeped through our bond, making my own nerves feel frayed and raw.

Drake didn’t stop until we reached his office. He opened the door, practically dragging me inside before slamming it shut behind us. The sound echoed in the small room, making the tension feel even more oppressive. He let go of my hand and strode to his chair, sinking into it with a heavy sigh. His eyes were stormy, filled with emotions I couldn’t quite read, but anger was the most prominent.

"Sit," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

I obeyed, sinking into the chair opposite him, my heart pounding in my chest. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as Drake’s gaze bore into me. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher—a mix of fury, confusion, and something else I couldn’t place.

"Did you kill Alpha Vanvil?" he asked abruptly, his voice low and hard, like he was forcing the words out.

The question hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My mind raced, trying to process what he had just asked me. ’Did I kill Alpha Vanvil?’ The answer was more complicated than a simple yes or no, but I knew that wasn’t what Drake wanted to hear.

I looked at him, my throat dry as I tried to find the right words. "Drake... why are you asking me this?"

"Just answer the damn question, Leila," he snapped, his voice rising with frustration. "Did you or did you not kill Alpha Vanvil?"

"I... I don’t know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I wanted to... I wanted to kill him, but I don’t know if I actually did. Everything was so chaotic, and there was so much blood..."

Drake’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean, you don’t know? Either you killed him, or you didn’t."

I shook my head, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. "Drake, you have to understand... that night, everything was a blur. I was so full of rage, so blinded by hatred, that I don’t remember everything clearly. I remember attacking him, I remember the blood, but... I don’t know if I delivered the killing blow."

The room was silent, the weight of my confession hanging between us like a dark cloud. I could see the gears turning in Drake’s mind as he processed what I had just told him. He looked away, his hands clenching into fists on the desk.

I knew I had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. I had killed Alpha Vanvil, but I couldn’t let Drake see how much darkness had taken root in my heart. The truth was, I had fantasized about killing Vanvil for days, my thoughts consumed by it. And when the opportunity presented itself, I took it without hesitation. But I couldn’t let Drake know just how deeply the desire for revenge had twisted me. If he knew, maybe he wouldn’t want me anymore. Maybe he’d see me as something vile, unworthy of his love.

I had to play the damsel in distress, the woman who had been pushed too far, who had snapped under the weight of her pain. It was a role I could slip into easily, one that would draw Drake closer, make him protective, vengeful even. And that was what I needed—to push him into a mode where he’d be willing to take down the Blood Moon Pack with me. But the problem was, in doing so, I was playing a dangerous game. I’d come to love Drake, which was never part of the plan. Now that I had, I had to find a way to balance both my need for revenge and my desire to be with him. I wouldn’t sacrifice one for the other.

Layla, my wolf, had tried to persuade me to let go of my quest for revenge, to simply live and love with Drake. She wanted us to find happiness, to heal the wounds that had festered for so long. But I couldn’t let go of the past, not after everything that had been done to me. Those who had turned my life into a nightmare didn’t deserve to walk away unscathed. So, even though I loved Drake, I couldn’t let go of my need for revenge. The world had taught me to be greedy with the things I cared about, and right now, the love of Drake and the drive to avenge my life were the two things that kept me going.

Drake’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, sharp and demanding. "As much as you claim you killed him by accident, or even if you planned on it, something doesn’t add up. How could you kill an Alpha? And another thing—I noticed your scent during your heat. It wasn’t normal, Leila. It was too strong, too enticing, even for a mated wolf. What are you really? What are you hiding that you can’t stand to tell me? Haven’t I proven to be worthy of your trust, Leila?"

As Drake’s words cut through the fog of my thoughts, I felt the walls I had built around my darkest secrets begin to crack. His questions were sharp, penetrating the carefully constructed facade I had maintained for so long. I had always known that this moment would come—that Drake would eventually see through the half-truths and evasions I had fed him. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at him, the weight of his gaze heavy on me. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, were now clouded with suspicion and hurt. I could feel his frustration through our mate bond, a seething undercurrent of anger and confusion that threatened to spill over.

’What am I really?’ The question hung in the air between us, more than just a demand for answers—it was a test of my trust in him. And that was what terrified me the most.

"I..." My voice faltered as I struggled to find the right words, words that wouldn’t reveal the darkness festering inside me, the darkness I had tried so hard to hide. But how could I explain what I didn’t fully understand myself? How could I make him see that what I had done was necessary, that I wasn’t just a cold-blooded killer, but a woman desperate for justice?

But Drake wasn’t backing down. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as if holding onto the last remnants of his patience. "Leila, I need you to be honest with me. What are you hiding? You can’t keep shutting me out. Haven’t I proven that you can trust me?"

The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability, made my chest ache. He wasn’t just angry—he was hurt. And it was my fault. I had let this go on for too long, had let my fear of rejection and my thirst for revenge dictate my actions. But Drake deserved the truth, even if it meant risking everything.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "Drake, you’re right. There are things I haven’t told you, things I’ve kept hidden because... because I was scared of how you’d react. I’m not just an ordinary wolf, and I didn’t kill Alpha Vanvil by accident. I planned it. I fantasized about it for days, and when the opportunity came, I took it."

Drake’s eyes widened, a flash of shock crossing his features before he quickly masked it. "You planned it?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "You actually wanted to kill him?"

"Yes," I admitted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I wanted to kill him, Drake. After everything he did to me, to others, I couldn’t let him go unpunished. I knew that if I didn’t do it, no one else would. I couldn’t live with that."

He was silent for a long moment, processing what I had just told him. His jaw tightened, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. Part of him understood—of course, he did. Drake was a warrior; he knew the necessity of vengeance. But the other part of him, the part that had grown to care for me, was struggling to reconcile the woman he loved with the killer I had become.

"And your scent," he said finally, his voice hoarse, "why did it change? Why did it attract, even mated wolfs?"

I just couldn’t tell him the truth—I couldn’t tell him that I am an Alpha she-wolf. If I did, it would lead to questions about my birth parents, and that would unravel everything. Drake would find out that my parents were the ones responsible for killing his parents. It would complicate everything between us. But if I don’t tell him, there’s a chance Raphael will recognize me when he sees me, and then he’ll tell Drake everything, making him hate me.

How can I possibly answer Drake’s questions about why I’m so powerful without revealing that I’m the daughter of an Alpha? The more I tried to protect our bond, the more tangled the web of lies became. My half-truths were running out, and I knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.