The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 11

Day one without Damian was bliss.

Day two was quiet.

Day three? That was when I started checking the hallway like some

heartbroken princess. Not that I missed him–don’t get me wrong. I

just… noticed the silence. His footsteps usually echoed with

command, his scent lingered like expensive danger, and now, the halls

felt too clean. Too neat. Too empty.

Evelyn, of course, had no time for my internal monologue.

She had me balancing books on my head while walking in heels,

learning how to insult someone with a smile, and memorizing the

entire hierarchy of alpha families across Europe.

“This is how a Luna walks,” she said sharply as I stumbled down the

hall, arms out like I was on a tightrope. “Back straight, chin high, and

eyes forward. You must glide. Not stomp like you’re off to start a fight.”

“I am off to start a fight,” I grunted, adjusting the heel digging into

my skin.

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“Try that in front of a council elder and you’ll get eaten alive.”

“If I walk in front of a council elder, I’ll be the one doing the eating,”

I muttered.

She didn’t laugh. Evelyn never laughed. She did sigh though. A lot.”

Usually after I said something that didn’t come from a royal etiquette

handbook.

Still, I was doing well. Surprisingly well.

Evelyn had expected me to fall apart. Maybe she thought I’d snap and throw stilettos at the wall or trip into some scandalous pose during a

mock tea party. But I didn’t. I listened. Practiced. Bit back my rage when she corrected me for the sixth time on how to sip tea without

slurping.

Because deep down, I knew what this was.

Preparation.

If I was going to survive in Damian’s world, I needed to stop acting like a bomb and start becoming a blade.

And then came day five.

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He said he’d be gone for two.

Just two.

By the fifth, the silence started to bother me more than I cared to

admit. I found myself pausing in the halls he used to walk. I’d catch

myself leaning against his office door, listening, only to remember-

he wasn’t there.

I hated it.

I hated missing someone I didn’t even like.

“Your wrist is too stiff,” Evelyn snapped, adjusting my hand during

yet another fake dinner table rehearsal.

“I’m going to stab someone with this butter knife,” I muttered.

“Elegant women don’t stab,” she said, moving to correct my posture

again.

“They do if the room is dark enough.”

She gave me a withering look. “You’re improving. Don’t ruin it.”

I didn’t respond. I just took another slow sip of lukewarm tea and

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Chapter 11

ignored the ache in my chest I didn’t want to name.

Until-

Footsteps.

Real ones. Heavy. Confident.

I stood too fast. Evelyn’s eyes flicked toward the door.

The knob turned.

And there he was.

Damian.

Black suit. That sleek watch ticking like it owned time. His dark eyes

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