The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43

For the first time in weeks, I woke up without pain.

It was strange, almost unnerving–how light my body felt, how easy it

was to breathe. No aches in my joints, no stiffness in my limbs. Just…

stillness. Calm. The scent of crisp linen and cedarwood clung to the

sheets around me, and I knew instantly this wasn’t my room.

Damian’s bed.

The realization sent a flutter through my chest. I hadn’t slept in my

own room since the attack. Since I was hurt. Since he started curling

his body protectively around mine every night like I was some fragile

thing made of glass. And I had let him. Welcomed it, even.

I turned slowly, expecting to find his arm draped around my waist,

but the space beside me was cold.

Empty.

There was a note folded on the pillow. I recognized his handwriting

before I even touched it. I’ve gone out. Something urgent. Rest. Don’t

leave the estate. I’ll be back before dusk. – D.

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No signature. No explanations.

Typical Damian.

I blinked at the note for a second longer than necessary, then sat up

and swung my legs over the bed. My feet sank into the thick rug

below, and I noticed my muscles didn’t scream in protest. My wounds

were fully healed–faster than I’d expected.

–

The soft hush of silence outside his room made my ears perk up. No

Mira humming from the hallway. No servants bustling in the kitchen. Just two guards by the main door, and two maids who barely

acknowledged me.

Something felt… off.

The hallway stretched long and dim, unusually quiet for this time of day. I walked slowly, barefoot, trailing my fingers along the walls as if searching for something familiar. The air felt heavier than usual, laced with that faint hum of magic that sometimes brushed against

my skin when I wasn’t paying attention.

Mira was nowhere. Not in the kitchen. Not in the garden.

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Just the guards.

Just the silence.

I should’ve stayed in Damian’s room, like he said. But something

tugged at me. A whisper in my blood. I wasn’t sure what it was–but it

called me forward.

My steps led me to the east wing.

To my old room.

I hadn’t been here since before the injury. Before Damian scooped me

into his arms, grumbling about how I was too damn stubborn to heal properly. Before I found comfort in the warmth of his sheets and the

steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep.

I reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly.

The door creaked open.

Dust particles danced in the filtered sunlight slanting through the

curtains. Everything was untouched. The bed made. My clothes

folded. It looked like a room belonging to a stranger.

I stepped inside anyway.

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I found myself standing before the tall mirror beside the closet,

brushing dust off the surface. My reflection stared back at me, wide-

eyed and pensive. My hair was a bit wild, curling down my back in

waves. My skin looked healthier. Stronger. There was color in my

cheeks again.

I smiled, remembering how Damian had looked at me last night–like

I was something sacred. Like I mattered.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he’d whispered.

“I’m not as fragile as you think,” I had replied.

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