Chapter 12 Luna
Luna
Notebook: When a male insists you’re “safe,” it’s usually a good time to get the fuck away.
My eyes flutter open.
Oli is still sound asleep beside me, his chest rising and falling gently. His hand loosely wrapped around mine. I carefully extract my fingers, moving slowly to avoid waking him. He makes a slight sound of protest but burrows deeper into the cushion.
The house is quiet.
The guys must still be out. I stretch, refreshed from our impromptu nap, and head upstairs to my room.
I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling for a moment.
What to do while I wait?
My phone sits on the nightstand, untouched since I arrived. Maybe I should check my message?
“Bad idea, Luna,” but before I can think better of it, I grab my phone and open InstaShifter.
Holy shit.
Notifications flood my screen—hundreds of them. Tags, messages, comments, and new followers. My follower count has jumped from 13,000 to over 100,000.
“What the hell?” I mutter, scrolling through the mess.
Then I see it.
A headline that makes my heart stutter: “POLITICAL HEIR CONRAD CLAWFORD ENGAGED TO INSTITUTE BEAUTY.”
My fingers tremble as I click the link. The article loads, revealing a professional photo of Conrad with his arm around… Marcy. My former tormentor beams at the camera, her perfect smile dazzling as she flaunts a massive diamond ring. Conrad stands beside her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“The engagement comes just two weeks after Clawford’s public rejection incident,” the article states.
“Sources close to the couple say they immediately felt a strong connection and plan to mate within the month. Miss Marcy Frostpaw, daughter of prominent businessman Harold Frostpaw, quickly captured Conrad’s heart. ”
I snort. But then I keep reading, and my amusement dies.
“When asked about his previous scent match rejection, Clawford stated: “Sometimes fate makes mistakes. Marcy and I are proof that true love transcends biology. I dodged a bullet with that savage.”
My throat tightens, but it’s not hurt; it’s rage.
“Fuck you, Conrad.”
I force myself to keep reading the comments.
@packqueen: FINALLY! Conrad deserves someone beautiful. They look perfect together! #PowerCouple #BetterChoice
@marcyqueenie: Dreams do come true! Thank you all for your support during this magical time! #Blessed #EngagedLife
@saramoondreamer: Anyone else think this is suspicious? Two weeks after rejecting his SCENT MATCH? Something’s not right. #TeamLuna #SomethingFishy
@lonewolflover: Poor Luna. First rejected, now this slap in the face. Conrad’s a piece of shit. #JusticeForLuna
@silvermoon123: Wait, wasn’t Luna his scent match? How is he engaged to someone else? This doesn’t make sense. #Confused
I toss my phone onto the bed.
My wolf stirs restlessly, sensing my anger. She’s confused—shouldn’t I be devastated? Heartbroken? But all I feel is fury and something like relief.
“Good riddance,” I mutter, pacing my room. “They deserve each other.
I storm downstairs, swipe a granola bar from the pantry, and head outside for a quick walk around the grounds to clear my head.
When I circle back to the house, I hear the muffled grunts and music thumping from the gym.
I pause outside the door, listening for a beat, and then open the door, bracing myself for the onslaught of testosterone.
All five of them are inside, engaged in various forms of combat.
Hudson and Ethan circle each other on the sparring mat. Axel is decimating a punching bag in the corner, his fists a blur of motion. Oli is practicing some kind of martial arts sequence in front of the mirror.
And Damien—my breath catches—is lifting weights that look impossibly heavy, his muscles straining with each repetition. Sweat glistens on his bare torso, highlighting every defined ridge and plane.
I must have made some sound, because five heads suddenly turn in my direction.
“Take that off,” Damien snaps, pointing at his T-shirt.
What the hell?
“No,” I shoot back, meeting his glare.
His brow furrows, lips curling into a snarl. “I said, take it. Off.”
I cross my arms and plant my feet. “And I said no. What’s your damage?”
Damien stalks towards me, each step rippling his muscles.
“My damage,” he snarls, “is that you’re wearing my fucking T-shirt.”
“Oh. Well, mine had all your cum on it, asshole.”
There’s a momentary silence, then Axel barks a laugh.
“Well, well, well.” He moves towards us. “Did Grumpy make a move?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say.
“Oh, but it is,” Axel purrs. “Everything about you is my business, Wildcat.”
“Back off, Axel,” Hudson says.
Axel raises his hands in mock surrender, but that wicked grin doesn’t falter. “Just marking what’s mine, that’s all. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you want to contaminate those too, wildcat.”
My wolf perks at his words, traitor, like she likes the idea. I shove the thought down hard.
“I’m not yours,” I say, lifting my chin. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“Not yet,” he replies with a wink.
“Do I need to remind everyone about the rules?” Hudson says.
“What rules?” I challenge. “I’m here to service you all, aren’t I?”
Something flashes in Hudson’s eyes. “Not without—”
“It was consensual,” I cut him off, meeting his gaze steadily. “Satisfied?”
Hudson nods once. But his jaw is tight.
“Take it off,” Damien snarls once more. The dude’s practically vibrating; he’s so angry.
“What’s the big deal? It was clean and smelled like fabric softener.”
“Luna,” Ethan interjects, his voice calm, “you haven’t shifted yet, so your nose isn’t as sharp as ours. Scent is everything to us, and wearing someone else’s clothes… means something.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Damien’s still glaring, his chest heaving. “Take. It. Off.”
Fine.
If he wants to be a dick about it. My pride won’t let me back down. If he wants a show, fine, I’ll give him one.
I grab the hem and yank the shirt over my head in one swift motion. I ball it up and chuck it at his face.
“There. Happy now?” I snap, standing in my ratty sports bra and leggings.
The room goes silent, and I can feel their eyes roving over me, leaving heat trails along my skin.
Damien catches the shirt, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. His eyes dilate, pupils blown wide. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he might lunge. Instead, he regains his composure, places the tee in his gym bag, and strides towards the punching bag.
“Well,” Axel drawls, breaking the tension. “That was fun?”
I let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling very exposed.
“Wildcat, you’re toned as fuck,” he says approvingly, licking his lips—something I try very hard to ignore. “Bet you’d look even better with some blood on you.”
“I trained at the institute. Every day.”
“I didn’t know they had a gym,” Hudson says, eyebrow raised.
“They don’t. They offer Yoga classes, but I wanted a way to protect myself. When you’re the girl everyone loves to hate, you learn to fight back, so I found a private corner in the basement. That’s where I’d sneak off to at night.”
Oli’s face falls. “They hurt you there?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Axel’s eyes darken dangerously. “Names,” he demands. “Give me their names.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It made me stronger, and I’m here now.”
“It does,” Axel says. “We’ll park this conversation for now.”
He grabs his tee from a side bench, tossing it to me with a wink. “Here, you can wear mine.”
“I thought scent was a big deal for you guys…”
“Oh, it is,” he grins, voice dropping an octave. “But I want your scent all over me… especially that sweet puss—”
“Alright,” Hudson interrupts, smacking Axel upside the head. “Let’s start training, shall we? Before you embarrass yourself further.”
Axel grabs Hudson’s arm. “Don’t fucking touch me!” he snarls, fists clenching.
I think he might attack Hudson for a moment, but then he laughs, the sound sharp and jarring.
“Just kidding, big guy. Let’s train. I’m dying to get my hands on our wildcat.”
What the actual fuck was that?
After my warm-up on the treadmill, Ethan tosses me a water bottle. “Hydrate. You’re up next. Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? We don’t need anyone getting hurt.”
“Who says I’ll be the one getting hurt?” I shoot back with a wink. “I can pack a mean punch.”
Axel barks out a laugh. “That you do, wildcat. But there’s more to fighting than sneaking in a punch while your opponent sleeps.”
I scoff, but there’s a slight grin on my face.
Escaping to the basement was my happy place. It was a time to let my mind rest and sweat off the frustrations while plummeting a few imaginary females.
I kick off my shoes and step onto the mat, feeling the eyes of the guys assessing me.
It’s intimidating as hell.
“Have you done any boxing or self-defense training before, Luna?” Ethan asks.
“Just what I could learn online. I practiced punches, kicks, blocks—the whole routine, but it’s hard to know if I’m doing it right when I’m kicking air.”
“Well, today your opponent is very real,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Come at me. Don’t hold back. I want to see what you’ve got, then we’ll develop a proper training plan.”
I hesitate, glancing at the others watching from the sidelines. Oli nods encouragingly. Axel’s eyes are wild, while Hudson is stoic.
I’m not looking at the other asshole in the corner.
“You sure?” I ask, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Damien snorts.
I shoot him a glare. “I broke Axel’s nose, may I remind you. Want to see if I can match the set?”
A dangerous smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Try it, little moon.”
The nickname heats my face as memories of our earlier encounter flood back.
“Ignore him,” Ethan advises. “Focus on me.”
I inhale deeply and refocus on Ethan, excitement bubbling in my chest. This is my first real fight. Well, aside from the mean girls at the institute. They were all nails and shrieks—nothing like this.