Star-Crossed Luna

captive

I awoke to a nightmare, bound to a chair in a dim, putrid room and the smell of rotten flesh was hanging in the air.

The stench of decay lingered, making my stomach churn.
Desperation clutched at me as I fought the urge to vomit, not wanting to alert my unseen captors. Despite my efforts, a guttural growl escaped, releasing the contents of my queasy stomach into the air, intensifying the unsettling atmosphere.

Footsteps approached, ominous in the darkness, preceding the entrance of a man whose face remained shrouded. His voice cut through the oppressive silence, filled with a deep-seated hatred.

"So you are finally up?" he sneered, his words hanging in the air like a threat.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" I managed to croak, my throat dry and raspy.

"So you really have the courage. Let me see how long this little courage of yours will keep you alive. Lights," he commanded, and suddenly the room illuminated.

There he stood, an imposing figure with a muscular frame, shirtless, and long hair tied in a ponytail. Despite his intimidating presence, I couldn't help but notice a certain rugged attractiveness.

A sinister smirk played on his lips as he advanced toward me. "Now start talking."

Confused and disoriented, I struggled to comprehend his cryptic demands.

"I don't know what you're talking about."I asserted, clinging to the shreds of courage within me.

"You humans never learn," he spat, delivering a slap that felt like the collision of a building against my face. Blood flowed, marking the brutality of his actions. "Are you gonna talk or not? Who sent you? Are you a spy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a spy. Nobody sent me," I said, defiance fueling my words.

"What is a human doing in Lycanthor? Tell me, or Lupus shall show you no mercy. Nobody dares to trespass," he warned, the imminent threat of another punishing blow lingering.

The realization struck me—he must be the infamous alpha, the merciless one who took pleasure in random killings.

My target.

My hopes dwindled; this seemed to be my end. But I couldn't allow myself to die without avenging my sister.

I endured the relentless beating, convinced that I had identified my target. The ruthless alpha who deserved to pay for his crimes.

The assault ceased, and the imposing figure spoke again. "You're a tough one, aren't you? Maybe I can't make you talk. But somebody else can." He turned towards the door. "Call the Lupus."

As the door creaked open, another figure entered, and I could sense the gravity of their presence. My energy depleted, I kept my head down, unable to discern the newcomer's identity.

"She's not talking, master. We've never encountered one this tough. The vampires must have hired a resilient one this time," the shirtless man said.

"Wait, master?" My mind raced, questions swirling about the identity of this enigmatic figure. His footsteps resonated with an overwhelming presence, as though a legion marched with him.

"I want to see her face, Malcon," the master commanded, his voice deep and intimidating. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine, goosebumps forming on my skin. Regret engulfed me; I had underestimated the dangers I faced.

"Look up!" The one known as Malcon demanded but I kept my head down. My energy was totally drained.

"How dare a tiny human like you disobey Lupus?" Malcon said rushing towards me and forcing my head up roughly revealing my trauma.

And there, unveiled before me, stood my nightmare personified. The one who haunted my days and nights, the source of my pain and hatred for Lycanthor. I wish I never raised my head.

And there he stood.

I have looked into those eyes before.

End of chapter.
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