The Unloved Luna: Humiliated by Her Future Daughter-in-law

THIRD PERSON'S POV

In the heart of this darkness, a group of figures gathered, their eyes glinting with the hunger of wolves—some wild, some rogue, all dangerous.

A lone woman stood before them, her figure draped in a long, hooded cloak that obscured her face.

Without a word, she reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a small leather pouch, tossing it onto the ground between them. The bag spilled open, revealing a hefty sum of gold coins and crisp bills, more money than most of these wolves had ever seen. The glint of the gold under the pale moonlight caught their attention, their eyes narrowing with interest.

Next, she took out a photograph, holding it up for them to see. The face in the picture was that of a woman—her features delicate, her eyes bright, but there was a strength in her gaze that suggested she was no ordinary target. The woman in the cloak placed the photo on the ground beside the money, her movements deliberate, as if she were offering a sacrifice to the gods of the wild.

“Abduct this woman for me,” she commanded, her voice cold and sharp like the crack of a whip. There was no hesitation in her tone, no room for argument. This was not a request—it was an order.

The wolves exchanged glances, some eager, others wary. Among them were a few rogues, their eyes wild with the promise of violence.

One of the rogues, a man with a scar running down the side of his face, stepped forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his eyes reflecting the predatory instincts that had kept him alive for so long. He glanced at the photo, then back at the woman.

“Are you sure she’s getting out of that pack today?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly. There was a hint of skepticism in his tone as if he couldn’t believe that such a target would be left unprotected.

The woman turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto the man who had spoken. Though her face was hidden, the intensity of her stare was palpable. After a moment, she nodded, the movement slow and deliberate.

“Yes,” came a voice from the crowd. A man stepped forward, keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact with the others. He was dressed plainly, but the wolves could smell the scent of Snowfang’s territory clinging to him. A traitor, then. He continued, his voice trembling slightly, “She’s leaving the pack today. I was sure of it.”

The woman nodded once more, seemingly satisfied with the answer. She turned back to the gathered wolves, her eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of her hood.

“You will take her to the abandoned property deep in the woods,” she instructed, her voice as cold as the night air. “Make sure she’s far from Snowfang’s territory. She must be completely isolated—away from any help.”

The rogue with the scar shifted, his brow furrowing. “What do you want with her?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “She doesn’t look like the kind who’d be easy to handle.”

A tense silence followed his question, and for a moment, it seemed like the woman might not answer. But then, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“That is none of your concern,” she hissed, her tone brooking no further inquiry. “Your task is to bring her to me. Alive. Unharmed, if possible. The rest… is my business.”

The rogue held her gaze for a moment longer before finally nodding.

The woman straightened, taking a step back from the group.

“Remember,” she said, her voice echoing through the silence, “if you fail me, there will be consequences. But if you succeed… you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”

With that, she turned on her heel, disappearing into the shadows.