The Alpha's Stolen Luna Chapter 33: Familiar Hell

Kaya

I don’t know if anyone else is listening, but I pray to the Goddess that I’m the only one who hears this.

How do they know? And if they do, does that an everyone else knows too?

The coffee girl from yesterday reacted strangely when she heard my na. And the chef—he didn’t look down on , not even today. Were they just being polite, or were they holding back because they already knew?

"Whore?!" The first girl practically shrieks the word, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.

I flinch. I can’t help it.

At this point, I don’t even care if they see my reaction. My entire body is trembling, the humiliation so intense I feel like I might collapse under its weight. I want to disappear—to be swallowed whole by the earth, burned to ash, erased from existence.

Whore. Whore. Whore.

I despise that word. I always have. Even though I should be used to it by now, I refuse to accept it. I was called a whore in my first pack. I was called a whore in Dark Wood. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I can never seem to outrun this filthy label.

I lower my gaze to my lap, curling in on myself as if making my body smaller will sohow make invisible.

The room feels suffocating. I don’t hear anyone else joining in on their conversation, but if these three won know, it’s only a matter of ti before the entire pack does too.

My mind shuts down. Their voices beco distant, a aningless blur of sound.

I just want them to leave.

Goddess, please. Let them leave. Let them leave the hell alone.

At last, my silent prayers are answered.

I hear the scrape of chairs against the floor and realize they’re leaving. They’re still whispering and giggling, but my lack of reaction must have taken the fun out of it. One by one, they set down their coffee mugs and walk out of the kitchen, throwing lingering glances my way, as if hoping for one final sign of weakness.

I lose my appetite instantly.

There’s no way I can eat now. The knot in my stomach is too tight, the nausea too strong. Frustration wells up inside , burning hotter with every passing second. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I push back my chair and hurry toward the stairs, barely aware of my own movents.

By the ti I reach my room, I don’t even rember how I got here. All I know is that the mont I step inside, I can finally breathe.

The eggshell-colored walls feel like a protective cocoon, wrapping around in quiet solace. But sohow, the comfort I found in this room earlier has vanished. It no longer feels safe. No longer feels like mine.

Suddenly, I long for Magnus’s bedroom—its dark, suffocating walls, its quiet shadows. At least there, I could hide. There, no one would look at . No one would whisper about .

I hate myself for this weakness, for this pathetic need to run.

Right now, I actually miss Dark Wood.

I miss Damien. I want to find him, to let myself collapse into his arms, to whine and cry until he holds close and tells everything will be okay.

I just want to leave this place.

Dark Wood was never my heaven, but at least it was a familiar hell.

Sliding down the locked door, I sink to the cold wooden floor, curling in on myself. I hug my knees to my chest, folding inward as if I can make myself disappear.

Sorry, Oliver... My thoughts whisper the apology he’ll never hear. I promised I’d eat. I promised I’d go outside.

But right now, I can barely even breathe.

I just want this day to be over.

***

I haven’t had this dream in a long ti.

It was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.

The sun had already risen, though it was barely five in the morning. Back then, I had a love-hate relationship with sumr. I despised it because the oga quarters had no air conditioning, leaving the air thick and suffocating. But I cherished it, too, because sumr ant I could slip away for a morning swim.

As an oga, I wasn’t allowed to leave the pack house without the alpha’s permission. But I had long since mastered the art of sneaking out. I knew every creaky floorboard, every blind spot in the guards’ patrols, every hidden path that would ensure I remained unseen.)

That morning was no different.

I woke before the alarm, careful not to stir my roommate. Moving with practiced ease, I dressed in silence, packed a fresh set of clothes and a towel into my canvas bag, and slipped out of the room, my footsteps as light as air.

Though I had been doing this for years, I was certain no one had ever caught on. No one knew about the lake hidden deep in the forest. No one knew it had beco my sanctuary.

My secret ritual.

The one thing in that suffocating pack house that was truly mine.

The mont I reached the water’s edge, my entire body exhaled. The air in the forest was crisp and cool, untouched by the heat of the day. The lake stretched before , its surface smooth and glassy, mirroring the pale morning sky.

I turned in slow circles, scanning my surroundings. No movent. No sounds beyond the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of a waking bird.

Satisfied that I was alone, I let my bag slip from my shoulder and stripped out of my clothes, stepping into the water. A smile tugged at my lips as the cool liquid wrapped around my skin, a gentle, familiar embrace.

Here, I could breathe.

Here, I was free.

I loved swimming. It was the only thing that made feel weightless—free.

I couldn’t shift back then, which ant I was barred from training with the others. I couldn’t join the weekly hunts or prove my strength like the rest of them. But swimming? That was sothing I could do. Sothing that didn’t require an audience, didn’t invite judgnt.

I didn’t know how long I stayed in the water, drifting through its cool embrace, but eventually, I noticed my fingers had turned pale, my nails tinged with blue. Reluctantly, I decided it was ti to get out.

I stepped onto the shore, shivering slightly as the morning air wrapped around my damp skin. My feet sank into the soft earth as I made my way toward my things.

And then it happened.

At first, I thought the ground had trembled beneath , a deep, earth-splitting shift that threw my balance. But no—this was different. A creeping awareness slithered up my spine, tightening like a noose.

I wasn’t alone.

They had followed .

They had been waiting for .

Three boys—two ogas and a beta.

I barely had ti to react before they lunged. Rough hands grabbed my arms and legs, yanking off balance. I gasped, but the sound was smothered as one of them clamped a sweaty palm over my mouth.

The beta stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his thin lips curling into a cruel grin.

The second oga moved between my legs, his leering gaze raking over my exposed body. He said sothing—his voice a low, taunting murmur—but I couldn’t process the words. I didn’t need to.

I already knew they were disgusting.

And then I saw it.

The beta reached into his pocket, his grin widening as he pulled out a knife.