Prophecy of the Supreme Luna

Chapter 1

A Million Dollar Lycan

Alexa

“No! Please, don’t! Let me go!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

My hands are pinned by two men as they drag me out of my house. I kick and fight with everything I have, but it doesn’t matter. My wolf can’t fight back. She only whimpers in the back of my mind.

“It’s alright, Alexa. It’ll be fine,” my stepmother says quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. My stepsister stands beside her, dabbing at her eyes, putting on a show of tears.

“Mom, please. Help me. Don’t sell me out,” I beg, my voice breaking. She doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Alexa, but we don’t have anything else to cover your father’s debt,” she says, her voice trembling as tears slide down her cheeks.

It has to be a lie. How did they hide so much? Where’s our TV? The cars? Did we really go broke overnight?

“No. This has to be a mistake,” I say, desperate.

“Shut up, girl.” One of the brutes slaps me so hard my teeth split my lip. Blood spills down my chin. “Your old man owed us a million dollars. Now he’s dead, so you pay it off.”

“A million dollars?” Shock punches the air out of my chest. I stare at him, then at my stepmother, my hands shaking.

“That’s not possible. My dad was a good man. He was the Alpha. He wouldn’t do that,” I shout as the brute hauls me toward the door.

They don’t listen. His grip tightens on my shoulders and arms until it burns. Right before the door slams shut, my stepmother and stepsister cover their snickers with their hands, trying to hide their smiles.

It’s them. They’re the ones who borrowed the money. I know it.

All for their flashy lifestyle. They just flew out of the country for a week on a private jet. Was all that bragging bought with debt?

Tomorrow, I’m supposed to reclaim my inheritance. My parents’ house. Their assets. Until I turned eighteen last week, everything’s been held in trust under my stepmother’s name. I was supposed to meet my father’s lawyer in the morning to sign the settlement papers.

Now this happens. They planned it.

“No. It wasn’t my father. It was them,” I scream, fighting uselessly.

“Enough.” Another man clamps a handkerchief over my mouth.

The sharp bite of wolfsbane floods my senses. My head spins. My strength drains fast. The world starts to blur, slipping away from me piece by piece.

Just before I lose consciousness, I catch sight of someone standing off in the distance. Moonlight cuts across his face, pale against the dark closing in on me.

Alpha Gabriel.

The man who’s supposed to be my mate. The man who’s supposed to mark me next week. He doesn’t move. He just watches.

His blond hair glows under the moonlight, almost angelic, but his eyes are cold. Empty. There’s no mercy in them at all.

* * *

I wake to a shrill ringing inside my ears.

A rough hand slaps my face, someone barking at me to wake up.

I force my eyes open, slow and heavy, but I still can’t see a damn thing.

I blink hard, searching for light. There’s nothing.

A fabric covers my eyes, I can’t even breath properly, and the rough texture on my cheeks indicate that my head is fully covered.

A thick cloth gags my mouth, wet with my saliva, stretched tight and forcing my jaw open. I swallow again and again, trying to soothe the raw dryness in my throat. My hands are tied behind my back. Silver chains bite into my wrists every time I move, scraping my skin.

Help. Someone, help me.

I cry out through the mind link to my wolf. Deep down, I already know it’s useless. I can’t feel her strength, can’t shift, can’t even steady my own breathing.

I tilt my head, trying to peer past the cloth over my eyes. Two big hands grab my arms and drag me forward. My feet stumble before they shove me down onto a hard chair. Their grip crushes my shoulders when I try to bolt, heavy and unyielding.

Fingers work at the knot around my head. The cloth loosens. Then it’s ripped away in one sharp pull.

Light explodes across my vision. I gasp and bow my head, blinking fast as my eyes burn. Slowly, painfully, I adjust.

When I look up again, dozens of masked faces stare back at me. Gold, silver, black, and white masks. Blank eyes, yet all of them are watching, measuring me. My heart slams against my ribs as muffled sounds tear out of my gagged mouth. Who are they?

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s move along to our next piece,” a man announces, his voice slick and practiced.

“A rare eighteen-year-old Lycan girl. Pure Alpha blood from the south. Untouched. Virgin.” He gestures toward me like I’m furniture.

“She’s got healing magic too. Tough as they come. Makes a fine punching bag.”

My stomach drops. They really are selling me. This is real.

“We’ll start the bidding at one million,” the auctioneer says, smiling.

Silence. Low murmurs ripple through the room, but no paddles rise.

“Anyone?” he pushes, scanning the crowd. “Alright then. Nine hundred grand. Anybody?”

A knot twists deep in my gut. The air reeks of sweat, metal, old blood. But beneath it all, there’s a scent I’ve never known before. Warm. Musky. Steady. It calms my shaking nerves in a way that scares me.

“Five hundred grand!” a fat man yells.

No one counters. The auctioneer paces, eyes darting from face to face. I shake my head, tears spilling freely now. My nose burns. My throat aches around the gag.

“Anyone else?” he says, sighing. “C’mon now. Nobody interested?”

Oh Goddess. This can’t be real. The fat man chuckles, lips curling into a smug, crooked smile. He already sees me broken.

I scan the room fast. Guards everywhere. Every exit blocked. Except the front, where the crowd is thick. There’s a stair behind them, the only stair in the room with a faint light from upstairs. It must be the exit. Maybe I’ll have a chance.

When the pressure on my shoulders eases just enough, I run.

I lunge past the auctioneer. He squeaks, stumbling back. For half a heartbeat, hope sparks. Then white-hot pain clamps around my wrist. Electric heat tears through the silver chain, ripping through my body. My legs give out. I crash hard onto the floor, convulsing as agony pulses through me.

Guards pile on, pinning my arms and shoulders. I fight, thrash, sob. One of them lashes my calf with something sharp, and I cry out, raw and broken.

“One million.”

The voice cuts through the chaos, deep and commanding. The room freezes, even me.

A tall man steps forward through the crowd, dressed in a dark suit. He lifts paddle number two beside his face. Black hair brushes his jaw. A black mask hides everything but his eyes.

My heart pounds hard against my chest, each beat pressing into my ribs, yet the rhythm fall in step with the man’s footsteps. My neck and back ache from holding my head up too long, straining just to see him more clearly. Just a little clearer, enough to figure out what he wants.

Is he really going to save me from all this hell?

“Stop,” he says, low and firm. “She’s mine.”

The auctioneer lights up. “Oh, yes! One million dollars! Sold!”

The guards haul me upright and drag me toward the curtain. My body shakes, barely holding together.

Someone bought me.

For a split second, my gaze locks with the dark eyes behind that mask. In my chest, hatred blooms sharp and bitter. I curse the auctioneer, my stepmother, Alpha Gabriel who abandoned me, and the man who just claimed me.

I wait in numb, hollow despair for what feels like forever in the cramped backstage. The noise outside is muffled and distant, like it belongs to another world I’ve already been cut off from.

A guard grips my bound hands and yanks me forward. They march me out of the building and toward a white limousine parked under dim lights. The door opens, then a rough shove sends me tumbling into the back seat. My wrists are still chained. My mouth is still gagged with a cloth.

The door shuts. Only then do I realize I’m not alone. The man who bought me is already inside.

Without the mask, his bright brown eyes catch the light.

Sharp. Alert. Watching everything. His jet-black hair falls to his shoulders, smooth and dark, and he casually combs it back toward his nape, unhurried, like he owns the space.

And he knows that he owns me. His presence fills the car before he says a single word.

“Alexa! He’s our mate!” Mythril squeals inside my head, practically vibrating with excitement.

The wolf inside my soul has fully awakened. The drug I inhaled must have affected her too, knocking her into unconsciousness. Funny. I can’t even shield my own wolf from the physical effects hitting my body.

And now she wakes up only to start spouting nonsense, claiming that the man who just bought me is my mate. Who the hell would believe something like that?

“No. That’s not possible.” I reject that idea to my wolf.

“Don’t lie to yourself. He’s our mate. I can sense his wolf’s presence, his wolf’s scents, and this warmth radiating from him. Can’t you feel it?”

His suit stretches across a broad chest, tailored to a massive frame. A neatly trimmed beard lines his jaw and reaches his sideburns. The thought of that roughness brushing against my skin flashes through my mind without permission. My body betrays me with a tremor.

His scent floods the car, thick and intoxicating, curling around my senses until my head spins. It feels like I might tip forward and fall straight into his lap.

I hate him. I hate that he was willing to buy me like property. And yet there’s a sick twist of hope blooming in my chest anyway. If this pull comes from the mate bond, then I’m already doomed. I curse myself silently, shaking where I sit.

The car starts moving. My eyes lock on his, but from the corner of my eye I catch shadows of trees sliding past the window. We’re leaving a forest. Somewhere I wish I recognized.

My tears finally spill, unstoppable now. Any hope of returning to the Silver Moon Pack, to my home, shatters as the car speeds out through the darkness. Whatever waits for me next feels endless and cold.

“Let’s see,” he says, shifting closer in one smooth, unhurried movement.

His scent grows stronger, pressing into me, coaxing my body into stillness. His hand reaches toward me. I shake my head and try to scoot away, but the door blocks me, hard and final. There’s nowhere to go.

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low and even. Calm in a way that makes it worse. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just taking the gag off.”

My heart hammers. Fear coils tight in my chest, but his tone slips under my skin like an order I want to obey. Not because of Alpha dominance.

This is something else. Something twisted. Disgust tangled with longing, freezing me in place as his fingers loosen the cloth and pull it free.

Air rushes into my lungs. My sobs quiet, though my body still shakes. I force myself to breathe, to swallow the terror and the hatred. Even as Mythril hums with joy at finding her mate, a sound in my head that makes my stomach twist.

“Did they hurt you anywhere else?” he asks, eyes scanning my face.

My whole body stays tense. I try to move, but the only thing I can manage is a weak shake of my head, my lips trembling uncontrollably.

“Good.” His gaze softens just a fraction. “What’s your name?”

My breath comes ragged. The chains scrape my wrists as my hands shake. My lips ache from bruising. He waits, patient, watching me fight for my voice.

“A—Alexa,” I stammer. Come on. Breathe. I gulp, trying to steady myself, trying to speak again. “Alexa Dawson.”

“Dawson, you say?” He tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you’re the infamous sole heiress of Alpha Dawson from Silver Moon Pack?” A smile rise on his cheek.

He recognizes my name. Of course he does. We are one of the last five pure werewolf blood packs in the region. But infamous? Have the false accusations about my father’s debt already spread that far?

I don’t know if that knowledge will save me or destroy me. So I keep my mouth shut and wait for whatever he decides to throw at me. My silence gives enough answer.

He smiles, then leans in close and speaks in a low voice. “I’m Alastair Knox.”

The name hits me like ice water.

Alpha Alastair Knox. Blood Moon Pack. One of the five strongest packs on the continent.

I awkwardly rub my shoulder against my mouth, smearing away dried saliva and blood. The soft clink of the silver chains draws his attention.

“Please, Alpha Alastair,” I whisper. “Can you help me? This is a misunderstanding.”

He nods slowly. “I heard the story. Broker said you sold yourself to cover your father’s gambling debts.”

“No,” I snap, panic sharpening my voice. “That wasn’t my father. It was my stepmother. My father and I had nothing to do with it. Please. Let me go.”

For a moment, I believe he might. Then a low growl vibrates from his chest.

His clawed hand snaps up, gripping my jaw and throat. I choke, a soundless cry trapped tight as my breath cuts off.

“Let you go?” he says softly. Dangerously calm. “After I paid a million dollars for you.”

His face draws closer. My body shivers despite myself.

“I don’t give a damn whose debt it was,” he continues. “I paid for you. That means you pay me back. If you don’t have the money, there’s only one way left.”

He inhales slowly, deeply, breathing me in. I squeeze my eyes shut, hating the spark that races through me anyway. Hating the hope I ever had that he would save me.

“Please,” I whisper. “We’re mates. Don’t you feel it?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “That’s exactly why I won’t let you go. You’ll bear my lycan children. You’ll use your healing magic to strengthen my rule.”

The words land heavy and final. The fantasy shatters. No homecoming. I should have known. The higher I hope, the harder the disappointment hits.

He tightens his grip, then drags his tongue along the shell of my ear. Heat floods my face. My body betrays me again, trembling as my mind reels.

Why can’t I fight this? Why won’t my body obey me?

“Feel that?” he murmurs, almost amused. “That’s our bond.”

“Please,” I cry. “I don’t want this. I reject you.”

The slap comes fast and brutal. My head snaps sideways, pain exploding across my cheek. He chuckles, low and rough.

“Lucky for you,” he says, fingers tipping my chin back toward him, “my mate, a lycan girl with magic power, heals faster than a mere werewolf.”

His other hand presses into my thigh, sliding higher. I sob and try to pull away, but his grip only tightens, forcing my legs apart.

“No. Stop. Please.”

“Don’t fight it,” he says quietly, smiling crookedly. “We’re bound. Nothing stops fate. Especially not when I decide it’s time.”

My body shakes violently under his touch.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my inner thigh, “are you really a virgin?”