The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out–a silver chain

with a small pendant. The symbol of a Luna. It shimmered like ice,

delicate and deadly.

“No,” I whispered.

He held it out to me. “You gave your word.”

I stared at the chain, heart pounding. Every part of me screamed to

run. To fight again. To claw my way out. But my body was weak, and

my pride was already broken.

“I hate you,” I said again, my voice cracking this time.

“You’ll grow out of it,” he said.

I snatched the chain from his hand and held it tight. My fingers

curled around it like a weapon. I didn’t wear it. Not yet.

“You won’t control me,” I said quietly.

He didn’t argue. He just turned and walked toward the door. “Mira is

waiting to treat your wounds.”

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“Try not to move your arm too much,” Mira said as she wrapped the

bandage around my bicep.

I winced. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who got body-

slammed by a walking brick wall.”

Mira smiled, humming as she worked. She was too cheerful for

someone who just saw me lose my dignity in the training room.

“Damian said you did well,” she offered gently, tying off the bandage.

I snorted. “Oh, I’m sure. Nothing screams ‘well done‘ like having your

face introduced to the floor at full speed.”

She gave me a sympathetic look and handed me a cup of water. “He’s

not your enemy, Selene.”

“He’s not my friend either,” I muttered, drinking,

I watched her carefully as she cleaned up the gauze and ointments.

Her back was turned.

My heart thumped.

This was it.

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My moment.

Was it a good plan? No.

Was it going to work? Probably not.

But I was tired of being a Luna–in–training. I didn’t sign up for

bootcamp, emotional whiplash, or mysterious war talk. I needed air,

distance… and possibly a chocolate bar.

The first step? Get rid of Mira.

“I’m feeling dizzy,” I lied, wobbling dramatically.

She turned fast. “Oh! Lie down. Let me-”

WHACK!

I hit her over the head with the nearest object–a thick copy of “The

Alpha’s Guide to Diplomacy and War.”

She dropped like a sack of potatoes.

I froze. “Oh my God… I think I just assaulted a medical professional.”

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I crouched beside her. She was out cold, her arm sprawled awkwardly

across a chair. She still had a tiny smile on her lips, which felt

creepier than it should have.

I gently closed her eyes. “Rest well, you precious cinnamon roll. I’m

doing this for both of us.”

I yanked open the closet and threw on the most normal outfit I could

find–black jeans, hoodie, and boots that didn’t scream ‘kidnapped

Luna.‘ I tucked the pendant Damian gave me into the drawer. No way

I was wearing that on my glorious escape.

I tiptoed out of the room like a ninja on a mission.

The hallway was too quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Even the guards were

gone.

Either I was lucky… or about to get my butt handed to me again.

I didn’t care. I was free. Free–ish.

I passed the study. Passed the empty training room. I even waved at the statue of Damian in the hallway and whispered, “See ya never, Captain Ego.”

I reached the front door.

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My fingers touched the knob-

“Leaving so soon?”

I screamed.

Not a little yelp. A full–blown horror movie scream.

I spun around, heart thundering.

Damian stood at the top of the staircase, shirtless, holding a mug of

coffee like this was a Tuesday.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, backing toward the

door.

“I live here,” he said calmly. “What are you doing?”

I considered my options.

Lie? Fight? Cry?

I chose drama.

I dropped to my knees and shouted, “I’m being held hostage by a

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coffee–drinking dictator with great abs!”

He blinked.

I bolted.

I managed to get outside.

Victory! The wind kissed my face. The sky opened above me. I

laughed as I ran across the front lawn like a maniac, barefoot, hoodie

flapping.

“Freedom!” I shouted.

“GUARDS!” Damian yelled from behind me.

Crap.

Three wolves appeared from the trees. One of them was shirtless too.

Why were so many shirtless wolves in this place?

They started running.

I ran faster.

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Did I mention I wasn’t a runner?

My lungs gave up after ten steps. My ankle twisted in a hole. I

faceplanted into a rose bush.

Everything smelled like shame and thorns.

Two guards picked me up under the arms like a rebellious toddler.

“Let me go! I have rights!”

“You assaulted Mira,” Damian said as he approached. “With a book.”

“A heavy book,” I corrected proudly. “And she’s fine. She needed the

nap.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how much trouble

you’ve caused?”

“Do you know how dramatic you are?” I snapped. “You live in a castle!

With statues of yourself!”

He looked at me, one brow raised. “Are you done?”

I pouted. “Maybe.”

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He walked up to me slowly, too slowly, until he was inches from my

face.

“I said you could fight me,” he murmured. “I didn’t say you could

run.”

“I’m not property,” I whispered.

His gaze darkened, but not in anger. In warning. In something deeper.