The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 81

The Alpha’s Mafia Luna

Chapter 81

A soft whisper slid beneath my door. I didn’t need to look. I knew it

was him.

I lay on my bed, eyes burning from hours of silent crying, Kael’s letter

fingers. My body didn’t move, but my heart

still gripped

thudded

f it already knew what that envelope carried.

knock. No apology. Just the faint sound of a folded card

oss the floor. My eyes drifted toward it, and the weight in

sank deeper.

lly sat up and reached f

s sealed with his black c

ng hands. The envelope

ormal.

I broke the seal.

“There will

omorrow evening.

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– Damian.”

No affection. No warmth. Just… a demand wrapped in silver words.

As your Luna? My chest tightened. My hand curled into a fist around

the note.

I wasn’t his Luna. I was nothing to him but a trophy. A shadow of his

control. He didn’t ask–he expected. And yet, I could see right

through it. This wasn’t about politics. It was about possession. About

image.

iscalculated.

wn at Kael’s letter again, rereading the final line.

We’ll meet at the ball“.

And Naia’s words echoed in my mind too.

“At least now you know the truth.”

I ran a thumb over the mark on my hand–the silent proof of everything I was uncovering. My birthright. My bloodline. My rage.

I was going to that ball.

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Not for him.

Not to stand by his side.

I was going for me.

To watch. To listen. To begin taking back control.

I stood slowly, my resolve wrapping around my spine like armor.

Tomorrow, they’d all see me–the girl who should have been

destroyed, now rising from the ashes of her pain.

The next evening came too quickly.

I didn’t let anyone help me. I didn’t let Mira pick my dress or send

anyone to style my hair. I went into town hours earlier and chose

everything myself.

If I was going to walk into the lion’s den, I’d do it with my head high

and my rage buried beneath silk and diamonds.

The dress I picked wasn’t loud. It was dangerous in its simplicity-

deep crimson with a slit up the thigh, long sleeves, and a plunging

neckline. It clung to my body like it was crafted from my own fury.

My hair was tied back into a sleek bun. My lips were blood–red. My

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eyes lined sharp.

When I stepped out of my room and walked down the stairs, silence

followed me like a veil.

I could feel eyes on me. Shock. Stunned silence. It was exactly what I

wanted.

And then Damian appeared.

He was standing at the foot of the stairs, dressed in all black. Classic.

Elegant. Arrogant.

He looked up–and for the first time in a long while, his face cracked. That guarded expression faltered.

His lips parted slightly. His eyes flicked down my body and back up

again.

He didn’t expect me to come.

Good.

“Serene,” he said quietly.

I brushed past him.

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“Let’s not be late,” I said.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

The ride to the ball was quiet.

Damian kept glancing at me, like he was trying to read my mind. But I

gave him nothing.

Let him wonder.

Let him feel what it’s like to be shut out.

Let him taste the silence.

The car ride was painfully silent. Damian sat beside me, hands on the steering wheel like he was trying to grip control of everything- including me. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. I stared out the window,

watching the city blur past.

The closer we got to the ballroom, the more tense I felt… not with nerves, but something sharper. Determination. I wasn’t going as his Luna. I was going as me–a girl with a plan, with a past soaked in truth, and a heart he didn’t get to own anymore.

The car finally pulled up to the venue–a massive estate lit with

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lanterns and golden chandeliers, glowing through the glass windows

like something out of a fairytale.

Masked wolves walked up the marble stairs in pairs, laughter echoing

faintly in the night air.

Damian stepped out first, walking to my door and opening it without

a word. His hand extended toward me.

I hesitated. Then I took it–not because I needed him, but because

this was the part I had to play.

Together, we approached the entrance.

A tall attendant dressed in black greeted us at the doors. On a silver tray, dozens of ornate masks lay displayed–glistening in velvet,

gems, and lace.

“For the evening, sir. Ma’am,” the attendant said, bowing.

Damian reached first, choosing a sleek black mask with sharp silver edges. It suited him too well–mysterious, dangerous, unreadable.

Then he looked at me. “Pick one.”

I took my time. My fingers traced over gold feathers, white satin, and

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blue sequins–until I saw it.

A mask of deep silver, with delicate black lace curling around the

sides and tiny crystals along the edges. Elegant, regal. Like something

meant for a queen who didn’t need a crown to be noticed.

“This one,” I said softly.

I slipped it over my face and tied the ribbon behind my head. When I

looked up again, I saw Damian watching me.

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise? Admiration?

I didn’t care.

“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm.

I took it, letting the music from inside swell around us as the doors

opened.

This was it.