The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and lavender.

A weird combination, really.

The light was dim in the room, filtered through thick curtains, and

Mira was sitting at the edge of the bed with her chin in her hand,

staring at me like I was some kind of science experiment that had

gone slightly wrong.

“She lives,” she said, dramatically clasping her hands.

“I hate blood,” I croaked, throat dry.

Mira burst into laughter.

“I know,” she said between giggles. “That’s why you did a full Victorian fainting act in the middle of the hallway. It was impressive,

really, I wish I’d recorded it.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Don’t make me relive it.”

“Oh, you mean how Damian painted the walls with that guy’s face and you passed out with your arms flailing like some kind of Disney

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princess in distress?”

I shot her a look. “Mira.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” She bit her lip, grinning. “Sort of.”

I sat up slowly, the events of the night before coming back in

fragments. The gala. The opulence. The suffocating air. Damian

pulling the trigger like it meant nothing. And then-

That short creep cornering me near the bathroom. His hands. His

breath.

Damian finding us.

Blood. Screaming. My knees giving out.

I rubbed my face. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“You might not have a choice,” Mira said gently. “You’re Damian

Wolfe’s Luna now. This world? It’s yours too.”

I stayed quiet.

“And you can hate blood,” she added, patting my leg, “but it won’t

stop it from being part of this life. He’s an Alpha. Not just in the

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packs–but here, in the shadows too. He has enemies. Allies. People

who only respect fear.”

“I didn’t sign up to be part of the mafia.”

“You signed up to be his.”

That shut me up.

I glanced down at my hands. “My dad… he always protected me from

things like this.”

Mira looked at me, serious now. “Tell me.”

“I wasn’t always like this,” I whispered, curling my fingers. “I used to

be–normal. My dad, he made sure of it. We weren’t a typical pack. He

kept me out of the violence. Out of the politics. I didn’t see blood

growing up. He handled it all.”

“You were a Daddy’s girl, huh?”

I smiled sadly. “He used to call me his little moon. He said it was his

job to make sure I never had to go dark. He taught me to shoot, sure-

but he also taught me how to dance in the kitchen. How to make hot

chocolate with marshmallows. How to stay soft, even in a world like

ours.”

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Mira was quiet for a while.

Then she nodded. “Your softness isn’t weakness. But you’ll need both

hands now, Selene. One to hold your softness… and one to carry a

knife.”

“Poetic.”

“I read books,” she said, flipping her hair.

A knock at the door made us both jump slightly.

The door cracked open.

“Leave,” came Damian’s voice.

Mira raised a brow. “You ever say please?”

The look he gave her had her up and out of the room with a sarcastic

curtsy. “Your terrifying majesty.”

Then it was just me and him.

He stepped in fully, dressed in black from head to toe–no surprise. The top button of his shirt was undone, but everything else about

him screamed control. Power. Possession.

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“How’s the Luna?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. More like

a test.

I met his eyes. “Alive. Embarrassed.”

“You passed out.”

“I noticed.”

He walked closer, his presence filling the room like a stormcloud.

“You should’ve screamed.”

“I didn’t want to look weak.”

“You’re not weak.”

“Didn’t feel that way when I was on the floor like a corpse in heels.”

He stopped in front of me. “You stood your ground in the room. You

didn’t flinch when I shot him.”

“I was faking it.”

That surprised him. ‘Slightly.

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“I didn’t want them to see me break.”

He tilted his head. “And now?”

“Now I’m angry. That I froze. That I let him corner me. That I blacked

out like a princess in a tower.”

Damian’s jaw ticked.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should’ve-”

“You survived. And next time, you won’t just survive. You’ll rip

someone’s throat out.”

I blinked.

He meant it.

But I shook my head. “I don’t want to become like them.”

“You won’t. You’ll become like you.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

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Then I asked, “Why did you kill that man like that? Why didn’t you

just drag him away and make it clean?”

“Because he touched you.”

I stared at him.

“You were shaking. I saw your face. You didn’t say a word, Selene, but

I felt it. And that was enough.”

I swallowed hard.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice low. “And I don’t care if this entire world

thinks I’m a monster–as long as they know what happens when they

lay a hand on what’s mine.”

Possessive wasn’t even the word.

It was primal.

And somehow, instead of fear, what I felt was… steady.

I stood from the bed. “You said you carried me?”

“Over my shoulder. You flopped like a fish.”

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I groaned. “Mira wasn’t lying.”

“She never lies when it comes to making fun of you.”

I smirked despite myself. “Thanks. For… back there.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t thank me. That’s not something you thank

someone for. That’s what I do. That’s what I will always do.”

The room went quiet again.

“I’m not used to this,” I admitted. “This mafia thing. Blood on

carpets. Murder as punishment. I just…”

“You’ll adapt,” he said simply. “Because you don’t have a choice.”

“That’s comforting.”

“I’m not trying to comfort you.”

“Clearly.”

He moved to the window and glanced out before speaking again.