The Alpha's Stolen Luna
Chapter 26: Secret

Chapter 26: Secret

Kaya

As expected, there’s no response.

Frowning, I knock again, harder this time, the sound echoing down the quiet hallway. But still—nothing. Not even the faintest shuffle from behind the door.

I don’t know why disappointment pricks at me. It’s not like Shelly and I have never been close. We were never friends—not in Dark Wood, not before last night. If anything, the only thing tying us together is the hell we both barely survived. Just because we shared the same nightmare doesn’t mean we’ve suddenly become allies.

So why does her silence bother me?

With a quiet sigh, I turn away. Maybe I’ll try again later. Or maybe nothing will change, and we’ll continue as we always have—strangers forced into each other’s orbit.

But before I can take a single step, the door flies open, and a hand—surprisingly strong—grabs my wrist and yanks me inside.

"Goddess!" I gasp, but before I can utter another word, I’m shoved against the wall, the door slamming shut behind me.

"Shh!" Shelly hisses, her palm pressing over my mouth.

My breath stutters as my wide eyes adjust to the dim room. Unlike Magnus’s lavish bedroom, Shelly’s space is far simpler—white walls, pastel-colored furniture, nothing extravagant. Yet with the heavy curtains drawn tightly shut, not even a sliver of daylight seeps through. The air feels thick, stagnant, as though the room has been swallowed by perpetual night. _{fre\e(w)ebn ov.e l\. co.m}

Shelly’s narrowed eyes flick over me, scanning me from head to toe, searching—for what? When she finds nothing, she finally locks her gaze onto mine, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"You don’t seem hurt," Shelly mutters, stepping back and pulling her hand away from my mouth. Her sharp gaze lingers on me for a second longer before she asks, "Where are you staying?"

I hesitate. How am I supposed to explain that I’m sharing a room with Alpha Magnus? That I woke up in his bed? The truth is too complicated—too dangerous. So I lie. Again.

"I’m staying on the Alpha floor because—"

Shelly’s sharp, bitter laugh slices through my sentence like a blade. "Of course," she sneers, shaking her head. "Even here, you’re a fucking favorite. Unbelievable."

I flinch at the venom in her voice, my pulse quickening. She has every right to hate me again, doesn’t she? And I can’t even blame her. From the outside, my situation looks exactly as she assumes. A girl with my past, living on the Alpha’s floor—it doesn’t matter what excuse I come up with. No one who knows me would ever believe it’s innocent.

Shelly presses a hand to her forehead, rubbing at her temple as though trying to wipe away the ugly thoughts clouding her mind.

I use the moment to study her properly. She’s dressed plainly, much like I am—a loose black button-up shirt and fitted leggings, the fabric tucked neatly into white socks that disappear into her well-worn sneakers.

It’s nothing like the clothes she usually wears. Gone are the bold outfits, the sharp, confident edge she always carried. And the longer I stare at her, the more uneasy I become. It’s not just the way she’s dressed. Something else about her is different.

At last, she catches me watching her. Her eyes flicker with something unreadable before she folds her arms tightly across her chest and takes another step back, as if creating a barrier between us.

"Stop it," she snaps. "I feel like... you can see right through me... now that I know."

My breath catches, my heart skipping an entire beat. She knows. She saw right through me the moment I walked through that door.

As if reading my thoughts, Shelly rolls her eyes before exhaling heavily. Her posture relaxes, and she lowers her hands, striding toward a small couch by the window. She collapses into it with a sigh, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeves.

"Like you’d actually come here just to check up on me," she mutters, tilting her head with a bitter smirk. "You don’t actually care how I’m doing."

The words sting, but I don’t argue. I understand where she’s coming from. She isn’t entirely wrong.

"Alright," I exhale, sinking onto the opposite end of the couch. "But I did want to make sure you were okay."

"And?" She arches a brow, her smirk deepening.

I sigh again, bracing myself. "And to ask for a favor."

Shelly studies me for a moment, her expression shifting into something more guarded. Then, her eyes narrow. "How come no one knows you can shift?" she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now, more pointed. "How come I can’t sense your wolf at all?"

A chill runs down my spine. My gaze drops to my hands, my fingers twisting together in my lap. I could explain it. But I won’t.

One person knowing is already too much.

Two.

Now, it’s two.

I know who you are.

Magnus’s voice echoes in my mind like a ghostly confirmation, sealing my silent truth.

"I can’t explain it," I lie again, my voice steady even as my fingers tighten in my lap. I still can’t bring myself to meet her gaze. "I don’t know how or why I am the way I am."

Shelly stays silent for a long moment. Then, she exhales, leaning back into the couch, her eyes drifting toward the heavy curtains drawn over the window.

"No wonder Damien was treating you like some rare, delicate flower," she mutters bitterly, almost to herself. "I knew you couldn’t be that simple... But honestly, I figured you just had a magic cunt or something."

She scoffs, shaking her head, still staring at the thick folds of fabric blocking out the light.

A startled laugh escapes me, forced and brittle, but the humor doesn’t last. Because when she finally turns her eyes back to me, her expression is empty, her posture stiff with something dreadfully heavy.

"Fine," she says at last, her tone cooling. "I won’t tell anyone that it was you who shifted last night. In fact, I won’t tell anyone anything about you." Her lips curl slightly, her gaze sharp as a blade. "But you’re going to keep my secret in return."

My stomach tightens.

"What?" My voice is barely a whisper, my mind already spinning with possibilities.

Shelly leans in slightly, her narrowed eyes locked onto mine, and in an ice-cold voice, she drops the bomb.

"I’m pregnant." A beat passes, her lips pressing into a thin line before she adds, "And it’s Damien’s child."