Chapter 48 Luna
The weeks after Jackson claimed the alpha title passed in a haze of controlled chaos.
We stayed in our apartment off pack territory, against every custom and expectation. The older wolves were scandalized. Their new alpha living outside the packhouse with a cat shifter mate was apparently the final insult.
I didn’t care. Neither did Jackson. The apartment was ours, and for now that was enough.
Artemis had claimed it as his kingdom, constantly underfoot and demanding attention with imperious meows. The little gray tyrant was thriving.
Jackson rose before dawn most mornings, slipping out of bed to handle pack business that never seemed to end.
We still had school and track practice, but the fall semester was winding down.
His team had taken second at cross-country nationals a couple weeks back.
I'd stood in the stands at his race cheering louder than anyone, my voice raw by the end.
Indoor track was next. Life felt strangely normal.
Today I went to the packhouse with him. I had never asked for the title of Luna and I sure as hell didn’t want it, but Jackson needed me here. So I stepped up.
The omegas, the weakest and least dominant members of the pack, were already stringing up Christmas decorations when we arrived.
They moved through the main hall, hanging lights and faded garlands.
A few glanced our way and offered small, tentative nods.
Progress. Under Thomas they had basically been treated as slaves with no rights.
I had come here a few times a week since the challenge.
The wolves were slowly getting used to my presence.
The open hostility had retreated, replaced by sideways glances and pressed lips.
Tina and the older anti-cat crowd still tracked me from the edges, waiting for me to overstep so they could pounce.
Jackson’s hand brushed my lower back as we moved through the hall.
In the past weeks we had worked together to undo some of Thomas’s damage.
We put trustworthy people in place, stripped power from the old inner circle, and started redistributing what the former alpha had hoarded — food, housing, funds.
The omegas and weaker families came first. Always.
It was simple math to me. The ones who suffered most got relief first.
I was surprisingly good at it. Detached. Ruthless when necessary. It wasn’t what I had come here for, but it felt right.
A day after Jackson became alpha, Rick had sworn loyalty without hesitation, glad to do it.
Jason had sworn it too, voice steady but eyes hollow.
His sister was still locked away. I had seen their parents only once, both of them withdrawn and brittle, like grief had carved them empty. Everybody was hurting in their own way.
Jackson hadn’t spoken Lia’s name once since the warehouse. Through the bond I felt the quiet waves of self-blame rolling off him. He had known her his whole life, grown up with her, considered her a friend. And he had never seen it coming.
I pushed the thought aside as we reached the central meeting room. Two enforcers were already waiting with reports. A middle-aged woman, one of the omegas who had been scraping by for years, stepped forward hesitantly.
“Alpha. Luna.” She glanced at me, uncertain. “The winter supplies arrived, but the Markham family is refusing to hand over their extra stores. They say it’s theirs by right.”
I felt the eyes on me. A couple of the older wolves near the back shifted, waiting for weakness.
I kept my voice even. “The Markham family is under investigation for their part in Thomas’s schemes. Their ‘right’ ended the moment they benefited from stolen pack resources. Take some enforcers with you and tell them to turn over the supplies or I’ll go collect them myself.”
The woman blinked, then nodded quickly. A few murmurs rose, but no one challenged me openly.
Not anymore. The last time someone had tested me, I had put them on the ground in front of half the pack.
The hostility was still there, simmering under the surface, but I had made it clear I wouldn’t tolerate it in the open.
Jackson’s hand brushed mine in silent approval.
Hours later, we were still in the central meeting room when one of the investigators stepped forward with a thick folder.
“The investigation into former alpha Thomas Black is complete. The evidence is overwhelming. Embezzlement, extortion, trafficking, the killings… everything from the files and more. The tribunal has been scheduled for three days from now.”
I sat very still and listened as they laid out the findings. Every word tightened something cold and sharp inside me. Thomas wasn’t supposed to end up in a tribunal. He was supposed to end up in my hands.
I kept my face blank and my breathing even, careful not to let anything slip through the bond. Jackson couldn’t know.
They would either execute him under old pack law or exile him, stripping his title and banishing him beyond our borders. Ten years of planning. Ten years of hunting the man who destroyed my family. And now, in three days, pack justice was going to take him from me.
I felt Jackson glance at me, the bond flickering with quiet concern.
I gave nothing away. Just a slow nod, like this was exactly what we had been working toward.
But inside, the hunter sharpened her knife.
Jackson called the meeting to a close not long after. The drive back to the apartment was quiet, the bond between us heavy with everything neither of us was saying. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, he turned to me.
“When?” he asked, voice low. It wasn’t the first time. “When are you ready? We do this together. I won’t let you carry it alone.”
I didn’t answer right away. The words tangled in my throat. He shouldn’t have to watch his father die. He shouldn’t see me like this. I wouldn’t let it poison what we had.
Instead I stepped closer, sliding my hands up his chest, feeling the tension coiled there.
“We finally have a whole night without meetings or pack bullshit. I don’t want to spend it talking about him.”
Jackson searched my face, the bond pulsing with frustration and concern. I rose onto my toes and kissed him, slow and deliberate, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it.
He hesitated for half a second, then his arms came around me, pulling me hard against him. The growl that rumbled in his chest told me I had won this round.
Jackson lifted me like I weighed nothing, one arm under my ass, the other banded across my back. I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him hungrily. Still kissing me, he carried me down the hallway and kicked the bedroom door shut behind us.
He set me on the edge of the bed and stripped me with rough, impatient hands.
My sweater, bra, jeans, everything gone in seconds.
His own clothes followed just as quickly.
A heartbeat later he came down over me, covering me with his body.
Teeth grazed the mating mark on my throat as he pushed my legs apart and thrust into me in one deep stroke.
I gasped, back bowing off the bed. He was thick and hot and so fucking deep. He groaned my name against my neck and started moving, deep and steady, like he needed to feel every inch of me wrapped around him.
I met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his shoulders.
The bond between us burned wide open, his pleasure and mine tangled so tight it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
But I also felt the raw edge beneath his usual control — a desperate need tonight, like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of me, afraid I might slip away.
I held him closer, legs locked around his waist, letting him bury himself as deep as he could go. I wanted it. I wanted all of him.
“Harper,” he rasped. “Love you. Need you like this. Always.”
The words hit low and sweet. I kissed him harder, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it. For these few minutes, nothing else existed. Just his weight on me, his cock thrusting perfect and relentless inside me, the bond pulsing with raw love and desperate possession.
Then he shifted suddenly, pulling out and flipping me onto my stomach.
I pushed up on my elbows, but he pressed a hand between my shoulder blades, keeping me down as he slid back inside me from behind.
The new angle made me moan into the sheets.
He fucked me like that for a while, deep and possessive, one hand sliding down to circle my clit.
Then his finger moved.
He pressed the pad of his finger against my other hole, rubbing slow, teasing circles while he kept thrusting into my pussy. I tensed, then relaxed as heat flooded through me.
“I want all of you,” he rasped, voice rough with need. “Every fucking inch. Let me have you here.”
I pushed back against his finger, breathless. “Yes.”
He groaned, low and grateful. Then worked me open carefully, one thick finger pushing inside while he kept a steady rhythm inside my pussy.
The stretch burned in the best way. I rocked back against him, chasing the unfamiliar fullness.
A second finger joined the first and I moaned, the sensation overwhelming.
When he finally pulled out and pressed the head of his cock against my ass, I was shaking with anticipation.
“Relax for me, baby,” he murmured, one hand stroking my back.
I breathed out and pushed back. The stretch burned, intense and full, but the pain melted into something darker, hotter. He sank in slowly, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against my ass. The feeling of him there, thick, deep, claiming that part of me, made me whimper.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaking. “So tight. So perfect.”
He started moving, careful at first, then harder when I pushed back against him.
The feeling was intense, overwhelming. Every thrust sent sparks through me.
Jackson reached around and rubbed my clit in tight circles, driving me higher until I came hard, clenching around him.
He followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me.
We stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard. Eventually he pulled out carefully and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Stay here.”
He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower run briefly before the water shut off.
A moment later he returned with a warm, wet towel and gently cleaned between my legs and along my thighs.
The care in his touch made something tight in my chest loosen.
After tossing the towel away, he slipped back into bed and pulled me into his arms, my back against his chest, one leg draped over mine.
The last few weeks had taken more out of him than he would ever admit. The fight for the pack. The weight of becoming alpha. All of it on top of everything else. Within minutes, his breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm. He was asleep.
I lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart against my back.
Guilt twisted low in my stomach. He trusted me completely. And I was about to break that trust.
I eased out from under his arm carefully, sliding off the bed one inch at a time. He stirred once, brow tightening, but he didn’t wake. I waited until his breathing evened out again before I moved.
In the dim living room I braided my hair tight against my head, working quickly and efficiently.
I changed into dark clothes and pulled the hood up.
Then I reached for the bond and drew it in as tightly as I could, wrapping it behind every mental wall I had.
I wasn’t sure it would hold once I got farther away, but it was the best I could do.
Jackson couldn’t know. Not yet. If he woke before I came back, he'd stop me.
The night air hit cold when I stepped outside. I kept my head down and walked the quiet streets first, then picked up a steady jog once the houses thinned out.
At the edge of the old forest I slowed only long enough to strip, stashing my street clothes deep in a hollow tree. The shift came easy after that. Bones reshaped. Senses sharpened. When it was done, I grabbed the kill bag between my teeth and ran.
Miles disappeared beneath my paws. Near the pack-territory wall I shifted back and started gearing up, pulling each piece from the bag with practiced efficiency.
Black layers first. Then the tac pants and soft-soled boots.
I slid on the titanium gloves next and checked the weapons one by one: the hunting knife at my hip, the folding blade in my boot, the slim one strapped to my thigh.
Fresh neutralizer went on my throat, wrists, the back of my neck, and the soles of my boots.
Zip ties in one pocket. Capped syringes in the other.
When I was done, I tucked the empty bag out of sight. I’d grab it on the way out.
I climbed the wall and slipped past the cameras and patrols I had memorized weeks ago, moving like a shadow toward Thomas’s house. It sat apart on its small rise, isolated from the rest of the compound. Two enforcers stood at the front door, bored and cold, watching the wrong direction.
I took the first from behind before he turned.
The needle slid into the side of his neck and he dropped before he could make a sound.
The second managed half a step before I was on him too.
Both of them were left breathing. They weren’t mine to take.
I dragged their limp bodies into the bushes and zip-tied their hands.
I crouched in the darkness afterward, staring at Thomas’s door.
Ten years.
Ten years of running, surviving, planning, bleeding in the dark.
I was finally standing here.
And tonight, I was going to finish it.