Chapter 33 Luna
Luna
Notebook: Fuck.
Consciousness returns with throbbing pain and fuzzy confusion.
I try to reach for my aching head, but my wrists don’t move. “What the—?”
My eyes fly open.
I jerk my arms again, panic surging when they remain firmly secured. I’m tied to a bed in a room I’ve never seen before. The events crash back into my memory—the lake house, the explosion, Axel’s face in the window.
A sound rips from my throat, somewhere between a scream and a sob. My chest constricts so tightly I can barely breathe.
“You’re awake.”
That voice.
I know that voice.
I strain against my restraints, twisting my neck to find the source. He steps into view.
“Conrad?”
He looks the same as he did that night at the Institute—tall, brown hair, unfairly handsome in that polished, privileged way. The son of the political party leader who wants all lesser shifters dead.
The man whose scent had driven me wild.
Except… I don’t feel anything now.
No pull, no attraction.
Just rage.
“Untie me,” I demand, jerking against my restraints hard enough that the bed frame creaks.
“I will. Once I’m sure you won’t try to claw my eyes out.”
“Oh, I’m definitely going to claw your fucking eyes out,” I snarl. “They’re dead because of you. They’re all dead.”
Something flickers across his face—regret? Guilt? It’s gone too quickly to tell, smoothed over by that politician’s mask he wears so well.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the lake house,” he says.
“Sorry?” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “They blew up the house with everyone inside! Hudson, Axel, Ethan, Oli, Damien—all of them! And you’re sorry?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“How was it supposed to happen, Conrad? Tell me the plan. Was I supposed just to come along quietly while your men slaughtered everyone I care about? Why do you even want me? You rejected me, remember?”
His eyes narrow, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And how do you feel right now?”
“Right now, I fucking hate you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“If you think I’ll take you back after you rejected me or that I’d ever let you touch me after what you did—”
“You’re not my scent match, Luna.”
I frown. “What?”
Conrad sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re not my scent match. You never were. But for some fucked up reason, my wolf still wants you.” He looks at my scars, his lip curls in disgust. “Even if you’re damaged goods.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. “But… at the Institute. I could smell you. It was overwhelming.”
“You were drugged.”
“What?”
“At the Shifter Institute. The vitamins they gave you every morning contained synthetic pheromones designed to make us believe we were scent-matched.”
I frown, trying to process this. It sounds insane, but… I feel nothing for this male now. No pull. Nothing but contempt.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would they do that?”
Conrad’s expression hardens. “Because you were bait.”
“Bait,” I repeat. “For you?”
He nods. “Hudson and the Northcrest pack have been trying to get my father for years. His men have been breaking into our warehouses and freeing the lessers. We’ve been at war for some time now.” His mouth curves into a cruel smile. “And you were his ticket to get to me.”
“So Hudson used me to… what? Lure you out?”
“In a way.” Conrad’s smirk widens. “But I’m always two steps ahead.
Poor Hudson always underestimates me and the lengths we’ll go.
He knew I would reject you. Obviously, a male of my stature cannot have a defective female.
” His eyes flick to my scars again. “But he also knew my wolf wouldn’t let me stay away.
Especially knowing he was the one who had you. ”
His hand clenches the bedsheet beside my hip, knuckles white. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Knowing you were with them? My wolf has been clawing at me from the inside.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
His hand shoots out, gripping my chin. “It’s about to be a you problem too.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snarl. “This is all bullshit. Hudson would never do that. You’re lying.”
Conrad reaches for a remote on the bedside table and flicks on the TV mounted on the wall. The screen flickers to life, and my breath catches in my throat.
Headmistress Gray is on the screen, her face barely recognizable beneath the blood and bruises.
“She confessed everything,” Conrad says. “Took a little convincing, but we got the truth out of her.”
My stomach heaves. I want to vomit, to scream, to close my eyes and pretend none of this is happening.
“Don’t worry,” he adds, his voice softening in mock comfort. “She’s no longer in pain.”
I close my eyes, trying to process everything.
Hudson and the guys had lied to me.
Used me.
“How do I know you’re not lying to me? About any of this?”
“Because I had someone on the inside,” Conrad replies. “Someone watching Hudson, reporting back to me.”
“Oh yeah? And who would that be?”
The door opens, and Damien Stone walks in.
End of Book 1.