The Runaway Luna

PEARL'S POV

The first thing that hit me when I woke up was the smell: stale urine mixed with damp stone and something rotten lurking in the corners. My eyes flicker in the shadows, and I realize I'm chained up just high enough that my shoulders ache from holding my weight. The iron cuffs are biting into my wrists, cold and heavy, while the rough shackles on my ankles add to the discomfort.

Above me, there's a drip echoing like water seeping through a rock, or maybe it's just my mind slowly emptying.

Pain throbs behind my eyes, dull and nauseating. I can taste old blood in my mouth. A part of me wishes I had just stayed asleep, dead even, but that's just not my luck. I always wake up.

I wiggle my arms, testing the chains, which scrape against my skin like iron. My breath fogs the air in front of my lips. I shut my eyes for a moment and see him again-the boy who was meant to be my mate, but he mocked my heart and chose my half-sister as his mate inside of me, which was three nights ago.

The room was packed with wolves from all over Pandara, excitedly snarling, laughing, and snapping their teeth. The Mating Ceremony is the night when bonds are made-or broken-in front of everyone who matters.

I stood at the edge of the dais, head down. The hem of my borrowed silk dress was torn. Kaela, in a crimson lace so sheer it glimmered like blood, stood beside me, glowing in the torchlight.

Then, they called his name: Aleric, son of Beta Janos. He was strong and broad-shouldered, with golden eyes that slid over me like I was just a stain on his boots. Even though the old seer had hinted that he wouldn't choose me anymore, I still held onto a secret hope that he would honor the longstanding agreement that I would be his mate someday.

I wanted to believe that if he chose me, I'd be with someone who wouldn't look down on me, and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to endure these endless humiliations.

When the drums stopped, a hush fell over the hall. He stepped forward and looked at me intently, just as we had when we were puppies chasing fireflies in the orchard. Back then, he'd smile and share stolen pears with me behind the old fence.

But just like that, his gaze shifted to Kaela, and he beamed at her even wider.

Then, he spat at my feet.

"You?" he laughed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "You think I'd tie myself to that?"

A wave of cruel laughter rippled through the crowd, hitting my skin like boiling oil.

I tried to speak; my mouth opened, but my tongue felt like stone.

Aleric stepped closer, brushing my cheek with his fingers like he was wiping dirt off his knife. I could see Kaela behind him, hiding her smile behind her hand, pretending to be shocked.

"You're not worth the dirt under my claws, Pearl. Kaela is powerful. I'll have sons with her who won't crawl like you."

He turned and lifted Kaela's hand high for everyone to see. The pack roared their approval, and the sound rang in my ears like the last remnants of my shattered dreams burning to ash.

I remember Kaela leaning in close, her lips brushing against his ear while her eyes darted to me-bright, cruel, and victorious.

That night, I lay awake in the corner of the servants' hall, staring up at the black beams overhead as Kaela and Aleric celebrated somewhere deep in the Alpha's wing. Their laughter echoed through the empty corridors like knives scraping against bone.

I didn't sleep. I didn't cry. I just lay there, counting my breaths as I stared at the rotten beam above me.

By dawn, I knew what I had to do.

I couldn't stay here... I had to escape before Kaela decided I was too filthy to breathe her air or just a ghost crawling on the floor.

If I ran, I might die, starve in the wild, or freeze by the river. Maybe, just maybe-I'd make it to Vartun. They say the Alpha King is a beast, and no woman who enters his chambers ever comes out the same or alive. Our entire pack never sets foot in his territory.

But I would rather face death at the hands of a monster than rot under Kaela's heel.

The memory tears through me like claws as I hang here now, chained up, blood dried on my lip, and my wrists rubbed raw. I almost laugh, but it would come out as a sob, so I swallow it down.

Kaela, this is what you wanted. A spectacle. A lesson. The aim is to instill a sense of self-awareness in everyone and inspire a girl to humble herself.

But I'm not defeated yet.

With a moan, the cell door creaks open. Harsh golden light spills in. I blink against it. Aleric stands there, his eyes filled with the same disdain that stung me three nights ago, while Kaela glides in like a velvet-draped wraith, her new partner following closely behind.

She approaches me, her skirts brushing the floor, crouching down to make sure we're eye-to-eye-just to make me feel small.

"You should see yourself," she purrs. "So pitiful." "Did you think you'd be chosen over me?"

With a low, sarcastic laugh, Aleric drapes his arm over her shoulders as if she's already fulfilled all his desires.

Maybe she has.

Kaela leans in, her voice dripping with venom. "You owe me your gratitude, little sister. If you'd left, Vartun's king would've devoured you before you even learned to beg."

My skin splits and stings, and I curl my lip. "Better his fangs than your lies."

She freezes for a moment, then her smile returns, brighter than ever. "Tomorrow, you'll burn where Mother burned. And I'll wear white silk while they scatter your ashes."

Behind her, Aleric chuckles, a sound that curdles my blood.

"Sweet dreams, worthless thing," Kaela whispers, her perfume choking the stale air one last time. Then, the cell door slams shut, stealing the light before the iron bolts engulf it.

A few moments later...

It's darker than before, but I sense the presence of another person; heavy boots shuffle in the stillness, and for a brief second, I'm convinced Aleric is returning to hurl another insult before my bones freeze.

But the steps stop at the jingling metal keys just outside the bars, and when I look up, a faint lantern flickers, casting gold over the scarred face of a man I vaguely remember from my childhood, back when I was still too small to matter. His shoulders slump as if the chains around my wrists weigh him down too.

For the first time, I'm not referred to as a slave or a thing or a useless one, as he whispers my name, "Pearl."

I blink at him, the torchlight blinding me. I want to speak, but the words just won't come.

He kneels by the bars, trembling as he grips the iron ring of keys. "I knew your mother. Saria. She once hid my family when the old Alpha was hunting down rebels. She fed my boy when there was no bread left for herself."

He gasps, half in sorrow, half in regret. "I should've done something sooner. I'm sorry."

He nods toward my cuffs. "Hurry. Take these off. When you're free, put this cloak on."

He tosses me a bundle of rough cloth-a prison guard's cloak, too big for my frame but thick enough to conceal the blood and chains.

My lips tremble. I want to say thank you. Why now? What about you?

But all I manage to say is, "How do I get out?"

He speaks in a trembling whisper, like a dying flame: "There's an old drain tunnel under the orchard wall. Don't turn; just crawl straight. You'll know you're close when you see the roots above. Don't stop."

He rises, heavy with regret, and disappears down the hall without waiting for thanks-perhaps he knows I don't have any left to give.

I don't waste another breath. My fingers slip the key into the left shackle; it clicks open with a sigh that sounds like freedom.

The metal scrapes against my raw skin, tearing it wider, but pain is the price of freedom. I encounter one shackle after another. They cling to the stone like the last heartbeat of my cage.

I wrap the guard's cloak tightly around me. It smells of old sweat and stale oil, but at least it's better than Aleric's mockery or Kaela's sweet poison.

I slip through the half-hidden crack, my shoulders scraping against stone, cold wind biting at my torn wrists; the drain tunnel engulfs me, frost prickling my ankles, roots scratching my scalp, one foot in front of the other.

As I press my forehead against the wet stone at the mouth beneath the orchard wall, I let go of the last of my fear.

I pull the cloak tighter around me, ready to bolt into the orchard's quiet embrace, but something freezes my pulse.

Torchlight flickers beyond the courtyard stones above. A lithe figure passes through the golden spill, with delicate shoulders, perfectly brushed hair, and that silver chain glinting at her wrist.

Bisca.

I barely manage to catch my breath before biting my tongue to keep silent.

She pauses, tilting her head just enough that her silhouette cuts through the torchlight.

"Is she looking for me?"

"Did she come to check if I'm still chained, helpless, waiting for the mercy of morning?"

Or did she come because some corner of her heart still remembers orchard trees and whispered promises in the dark?

I tuck my fingers into the folds of the cloak tightly. I'm certain she can hear the loud thump of my heartbeat.

Bisca lingers, her face turned toward the dungeon door as the torch flickers again, taking a step closer, and then another.

I can't see her eyes or her smile, but I know if she opens that cell door now and finds nothing but cold shackles and my blood staining the stones, the alarm will echo through Pandara before I even reach the path to the dark river.

She pauses-so close I swear I can feel her warmth through the wall.

Is she coming in?

I cover my mouth with my palm to smother the sob that's pushing up my throat, hoping the stillness of the courtyard holds its breath above me.

"Did Bisca notice the open lock? Did she hear the chain slip? Did she feel my shadow brushing past hers?"

My only prayer: "Don't open that door. Don't see. Don't betray me twice."

The silence above cracks; a hinge creaks.

A lantern hisses.

"Is she opening the cell?"

My heart is screaming in my head. Now or never, I ready myself to flee.

In the dark beneath Pandara's orchard, I wait, breath held between freedom and a blade.