After My Mate’s Murderer Forced Me to Be His Luna

The attic door didn’t open; it exploded inward.

Splinters of wood rained down on the dusty floorboards as the lock gave way under a furious kick. I scrambled back, clutching the neck of the guitar so tightly my knuckles turned white. Vincenzo stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking out the hallway light. The stench of sour wine and unwashed wolf hit me before he even took a step.

He wasn’t just drunk on alcohol; he was drunk on a toxic cocktail of rage and insecurity. His eyes, usually a dull brown, were bleeding into the glowing amber of his wolf, fixing on the instrument in my arms with a hatred that chilled my blood.

"I knew it," he snarled, his voice slurring. He stumbled into the room, the heavy thud of his boots vibrating through the floor. "I could hear it. That infernal whining melody. You’re up here serenading a corpse."

I tried to stand, to hide the guitar behind my back, but there was nowhere to go. "Vincenzo, please. It’s just music. It calms my wolf."

"Liar!" The word was a whip crack. He crossed the distance between us in two strides, grabbing my arm. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into my flesh like talons. "You think I don't know? You look at me, but you see him. You lie in my bed, but you’re sleeping with a ghost!"

"That's not true—"

"It is true!" he roared, shaking me. "Five years, Nora! Five years I have been your Alpha, yet you mourn him like he died yesterday. You disrespect me. You disrespect your pack!"

He released me only to snatch at the guitar.

"No!" The scream tore from my throat. I lunged for it, my fingers brushing the polished wood, but he was faster. He was an Alpha, and I was a malnourished, broken Luna. He held the guitar aloft by its neck, dangling it like a caught rabbit.

"This is what stands between us," he muttered, his chest heaving. "This rotting piece of wood."

"Vincenzo, don't! Please! It’s all I have left!" I fell to my knees, abandoning all dignity. I grabbed the hem of his jeans, sobbing. "I’ll be better. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, give it back."

He looked down at me, a cruel sneer twisting his lips—lips that looked so much like Keith’s, making the cruelty sting ten times worse.

"Keith is dead," he spat, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "And he is never coming back."

With a primal grunt, he swung the guitar like an axe.

The sound was sickening. It wasn't just a crack; it was a shriek of dying wood and snapping metal. He smashed the body of the guitar against the stone fireplace. The vintage spruce top, which had vibrated with Keith’s love songs for years, shattered into a thousand splinters. The strings twanged in a discordant death knell before snapping, whipping through the air.

I screamed as if he had struck me. I crawled toward the hearth, my hands shaking as I reached for the debris. The neck was severed. The body was decimated.

Vincenzo dropped the remains of the neck onto the pile of wreckage. He didn't look at me again. He just turned and walked out, leaving the door hanging off its hinges, leaving me weeping over a pile of wood that felt like the corpse of my true mate.

***

I didn't sleep. I lay on the floorboards all night, gathering every splinter, every tuning peg, every scrap of the shattered wood into a pile in the center of the room. I was trying to figure out how to fix it, how to glue the soul of my past back together, when the morning sun harsh and unforgiving, cut through the round window.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Brisk. Purposeful. Not Vincenzo.

Selene walked in, flanked by two burly Omegas carrying trash bags. She looked impeccable in a white pantsuit, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. She took one look at me—huddled on the floor, eyes swollen, clutching a piece of broken wood—and wrinkled her nose.

"Pathetic," she murmured.

"Get out," I rasped, my voice wrecked from crying.

Selene signaled the Omegas. "The Alpha has ordered a purge. He says the Luna’s quarters are filled with... clutter that is affecting her mental health."

"No," I whispered, shielding the debris with my body. "You can't."

"Grab the trash," she ordered the men.

I snarled, my wolf surfacing in a desperate attempt to protect what was mine. I bared my teeth at the Omega reaching for the guitar neck. But Selene stepped forward, her eyes flashing with Beta dominance.

"**Stand down, Nora.**"

The Command hit me like a physical blow. Because I was weak, because my wolf had been starved of love and power for so long, I couldn't resist a direct order from a high-ranking Beta. My muscles locked. My jaw clamped shut. I was a prisoner in my own body.

Tears streamed silently down my face as I was forced to stand and watch. The Omegas scooped up the wood—the pieces of Keith’s soul—and shoved them into a black plastic bag. Then, Selene walked over to the loose floorboard where I hid the sheet music.

She knew. She had been watching.

She pulled out the yellowed pages of "Moonlit Rain," Keith’s handwriting fading but still legible. She held them up, smiling cruelly.

"Such a sad little tune," she said. She flicked a lighter open.

I screamed internally, fighting the Command, but I couldn't move a muscle. I watched the flame catch the corner of the paper. I watched the fire eat Keith’s words, his notes, his promise to find me in the silver light. She dropped the burning pages into the fireplace, then gestured for the Omegas to dump the wood on top.

The dry, varnished wood caught instantly. The fire roared, consuming the last physical evidence that Keith Mason had ever existed. The smell of burning lacquer and old paper filled the room, choking me.

"There," Selene said, dusting off her hands as the flames danced in her eyes. "Now you can focus on the living, Luna. Or at least, try not to embarrass us further."

She turned on her heel and left, the Command fading with her exit. I collapsed toward the fire, the heat searing my skin, but it was too late. It was all ash. I was empty.