The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 21

Soft humming. Sweet, slow. Like a whisper floating through the

leave’s.

The sound drifted in the air, pulling me forward. My feet moved on their own, as if I was being guided by something invisible. The hallway was dark, the walls thick with shadows. The cold air brushed against my arms. The moonlight poured through the glass, glowing like silver paint, and the voice–gentle, haunting–kept singing.

“Aleshka… lae vahira,

Vanthor… sael dreenka,

Shala voren… otha elen,

Vaelithra… nae thulna.”

The words were strange. Not English. Not anything I recognized. They felt ancient, older than time, as if they came from a place no one

could remember.

I took another step, my feet now bare on the cold floor. The stones were smooth, like polished glass under my feet. It was as if I wasn’t

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walking in a house anymore, but a place outside of time. And there- across the garden, near the fountain–I saw her.

A woman.

She stood there, glowing. She wore a long white dress that

shimmered, but not from the moonlight. It was like she was the moon herself. Her hair moved as though there was no wind. She walked slowly, her movements fluid and graceful, never looking back. She kept singing, soft and steady. As though the song wasn’t meant for

1. me.

“Nir’ah thal… yeran silen,

Shalor ven… mae zoren.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know. “Who are you?” I called out.

She didn’t stop walking.

“Wait! Please–what is that song?” I shouted, but it was like my voice wasn’t enough. She didn’t even seem to hear me.

She walked deeper into the garden, her voice floating ahead of her,

like a whisper lost in the wind. The mist curled around her like it

knew her, like it was made just for her.

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“Please!” My voice cracked, desperate. “Answer me! Please just turn

around!”

But she didn’t. The garden seemed to grow colder, the flowers around

her bending as if they were listening. The trees stretched their limbs,

like they were trying to catch her in their reach. And still, she walked.

“Yer’rah ven… sola drolen,

Mae’shaer… dul’ra thein.”

The words had no meaning to me. But something in them felt like a

call, something deep inside me answered, even if I didn’t understand

1. it. I ran after her, my feet pounding against the stone, but no matter

how fast I moved, I couldn’t catch up. It felt like the air was thick,

heavy, slowing me down.

And then-

She faded,

The woman. The light.

The flowers, the trees, the whole garden–everything disappeared. It

was like she had never been there at all. I fell to my knees, reaching

out, trying to grab something. Anything. But there was nothing to

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hold on to. The light was gone, and so was she.

I woke up.

My heart was racing. My body was covered in sweat, clinging to my

skin like a second layer. The sheets were twisted around me, soaked

as if I had been running for miles. The room felt too small, the air too

thick.

I sat up, blinking at the dark. The room was silent, save for the soft

hum of electricity and the wind whispering through the cracks in the

walls. A digital clock on the dresser glowed a dull 3:17 a.m.

It felt too real to be just a dream. It was as if I had been somewhere

else. The woman. The glowing light. Her voice. She had said

something to me–something I couldn’t afford forget. Something

important. And I knew she was real, somewhere. I just didn’t

understand what any of what she was singing is.

I pushed the covers off, standing on shaky legs. I couldn’t go back to sleep. My body was awake now, my mind racing. It felt like something inside me had been disturbed, like a memory had been unlocked, but

it was too distant to reach.

I walked over to the window, needing air. I needed to think. The cool breeze hit my face, but it did little to calm the pounding in my chest.

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I needed distance. I needed clarity.

That’s when I saw him.

Damian.

He was standing outside in the garden, near the stone path that

curved toward the edge of the woods. His back was partially turned,

but I would have recognized that posture anywhere. It was rigid but

calm, like a predator trying to stay civilized. He wasn’t moving much,

but his stance was alert. He was on a phone call.

The wind made it hard to hear clearly, but my senses were sharper

now. I could feel everything. Every little sound, every shift in the air.

Then I caught it–a few words in Italian. Just one sentence, and the

tone made my skin prickle.

“Lo so,” he said into the phone. “È strano. Sì… molto raro.”

I blinked. I didn’t know what those words meant, but something

about his voice caught my attention. There was something off about

it–like he was speaking faster than usual. His voice sounded deep,

tense,

He rubbed his jaw, and then I heard a few more words that I couldn’t make out. He was speaking too quickly, his words blending together.

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Then, silence.

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