The Alpha's Stolen Luna
Chapter 31: What’s Her Deal?

Chapter 31: What’s Her Deal?

Magnus

The morning mist is beginning to thin, though the heavy clouds above remain stubborn, refusing to yield to the sun. Sometimes, I grow tired of this view—the endless gray stretching over the horizon—but at the same time, I can’t imagine myself enjoying anything else.

This is my life. My duty. I am nothing but a servant to the King.

"South border is clear."

Aksel’s raspy voice filters into my mind through the pack’s mind link, his presence creeping up on me like a shadow.

I turn my head and spot his dark gray wolf padding toward me, his massive paws caked in mud. He hates morning patrols—despises running through the wet earth—but I’ve long since stopped lecturing him about it. We both know how this game goes.

He whines about the early shifts. I assign him to them every time. Even someone like me needs a little amusement.

While I wait for the other patrol teams to return, Aksel closes the distance, his wolf’s sharp eyes studying me. His tone is laced with curiosity when he speaks again.

"Something’s on your mind? You’ve been miles away this whole time. The teams can sense your distraction."

He nudges my side lightly with his snout, but I respond with a low growl, irritation curling in my chest. I don’t need his concern. And I sure as hell don’t want to admit that he’s right.

But then, he says something that makes my patience snap.

"Is it the new girl? The one staying in your bedroom right now?"

My fangs flash in warning as I finally bite back. _{fre ewe bnove l.com}

"Watch it."

"What’s her deal?" Aksel persists, undeterred by my clear irritation. "What’s their deal?" He corrects himself, probably thinking of the other girl as well.

"Someone was trying to kill them," I finally relent, though my glare remains fixed on his gray fur. "I’m trying to figure out who—and why. Their pack abandoned them. I can’t just throw them out."

It’s a lie, but I choose to stick t it for now.

Aksel smirks, pressing his head against mine in a gesture of easy camaraderie. "If you brought them to our pack house, it means you’ve already made up your mind about them. And honestly? No one’s going to complain. We could use more women around here—this place is turning into a damn sausage fest."

He chuckles, but I don’t share his amusement. I consider whether his remark even deserves a response when another gamma’s voice cuts through the mind link.

"Ben says he found a dead ghoul near the northern border. He’s requesting permission to join his team and investigate."

"A ghoul?" Aksel echoes, his amusement vanishing immediately. "It’s been a while since we’ve seen one. What the hell was it doing in our territory?"

I don’t waste time speculating. My paws are already moving before I speak.

"Gather all the teams," I command. "Let’s find out how that bastard got in—and why he’s already dead."

***

I dismissed the patrol team nearly an hour ago, yet I still can’t bring myself to go inside. Instead, I keep circling the house, pacing without pause, my mind tangled in thoughts I can’t seem to unravel.

A dead ghoul is one thing—technical, a nuisance, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

But what the hell am I supposed to do about the woman in my room?

Did you mean our mate? Athan cuts through my thoughts, his voice dripping with mockery. What do you mean, ’what do you do’? You tell her. You claim her. She belongs to us.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my tangled curls. I need a shower. Desperately.

You can’t avoid this forever, my wolf presses. She’s ours. It’s only natural for her to stay with us too.

She doesn’t know that, I snap, my patience fraying. It’s like... her wolf isn’t there. She can shift, but she can’t connect with it. As if—

As if only one of them can exist at a time, Athan finishes, his voice quieter now, contemplative. But you know who she is. More than she does.

I let out another long breath. Whatever. He’s right—I can’t keep standing out here like a damn coward. I brought her here. I’m the one who has to figure this out.

I rake a hand through my hair in frustration, exhaling sharply as I march inside the house, my steps heavy with indecision. The stairwell looms ahead, and I climb flight after flight, my resolve thinning with each step. Before I even register my surroundings, I find myself standing in front of my bedroom door.

Her scent reaches me first—that intoxicating mix of warm cinnamon and aged whiskey. It hits me like a punch to the gut, stirring something deep inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

And yet, she can never know.

I grip the doorknob, hesitating for a brief second before glancing at the clock. Past midnight. She must be asleep.

I ease the door open, careful not to make a sound, but the moment my eyes land on her, my body goes rigid.

She’s awake.

Standing in the center of the room, her posture is unnaturally stiff, her expression carefully blank, like a soldier awaiting orders from her commander.

Why is she standing like that? Where is the warmth, the softness that should be her?

And then she speaks.

"Magnus..."

I never thought my name could sound so sweet coming from a woman’s lips. The only time I ever liked the way it sounded was when my mother called me. And this feeling... it’s painfully similar.

Her voice still lingers in the air, yet her lips remain parted, her chest rising and falling as if she’s struggling to catch her breath.

I don’t know what I’m doing—my mind is nothing but static—but my feet move on their own, closing the distance between us.

I stop before her, looking down into those deep silver eyes, and to my surprise, she holds my stare without wavering.

The air between us crackles with tension, thick enough to suffocate. If someone lit a match, this entire room would go up in flames. I can feel her breath against my neck, hear the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat—a frightened bird caged within her ribs.

She must be terrified. And yet, she stands firm, unyielding.

"You..." The word escapes me in a whisper as I lift a hand, cupping her cheek.

To my relief—and something dangerously close to satisfaction—she leans into my touch.

And I lose my mind.

My guard slips, my instincts take control. I lower my head, my gaze never leaving hers, and before I even realize it, our lips meet. Lightly. Barely brushing. But the jolt that rushes through me is impossible to ignore.

I want her. She belongs to me.

But she doesn’t know it yet.