The comments were a digital hydra.
For every one I read, two more sprouted in its place, uglier and more vicious.
#UnstableLuna was trending.
#BanTheJewel was right behind it.
My fingers trembled as I scrolled, each word a tiny, paper-cut sting that collectively flayed me open.
She doesn't belong here.
A danger to the pack.
The Alpha needs to control his wife.
The screen of my phone blurred.
They weren't just attacking me; they were erasing me, reducing the storm inside me to a punchline, a liability.
A soft knock came at my office door.
Before I could answer, it opened.
Selene stood there, a vision of cool elegance in a cream-colored sheath dress.
Her expression was a masterclass in feigned concern.
"Luna Riley," she began, her voice a silken murmur.
"I hope I'm not interrupting. I just... I saw the awful chatter online. I'm so sorry you have to go through this."
I said nothing, letting my silence be a wall.
She glided further into the room, her perfume—something expensive and floral—filling the space.
"Some people," she sighed, arranging herself in the chair opposite my desk, "they simply cannot comprehend a woman of substance. They see strength and mistake it for hysterics. They see power and label it a threat."
She gave me a pitying smile. "It must be so isolating."
"I'm managing," I said, my voice flat.
"Of course you are." She leaned forward slightly.
"But this... noise... is bad for the pack's image. For the company's brand. Sometimes, the most strategic move a leader can make is a tactical retreat. A quiet, extended leave of absence, perhaps at the family estate in the mountains. Let the news cycle move on. It's what's best for everyone."
The offer was a gilded coffin. To hide was to admit guilt. To disappear was to let her win.
"Running away," I said, meeting her gaze squarely, "only proves their accusations right. I'm not going anywhere."
Selene's pitying smile tightened at the edges, a crack in her porcelain composure.
A triumphant, cruel light flickered in her eyes. She had me exactly where she wanted me.
"Oh, my dear," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm afraid that's no longer your decision to make."
My blood went cold. "What do you mean?"
"The Alpha is so... proactive when it comes to protecting his assets, isn't he?" She stood, smoothing her dress.
"He's already scheduled a press conference for this evening. A formal statement to... manage the narrative. He's so very good at handling your messes."
With a final, victorious glance, she turned and left, leaving the scent of her perfume and the chilling weight of her words behind.
I sat there, the phone with its vile comments forgotten in my hand. Falon. He was already moving.
Not with me, but for me.
Treating me like a problem to be contained, a mess to be cleaned up.
The panic curdled, hardening into something else entirely—a cold, sharp resolve.
He was about to learn I wasn't something he could just handle.
I turned to Falon's office, the door was a solid slab of polished dark wood, a barrier that had always felt imposing.
I didn't knock. I turned the handle and walked in, the weight of Selene's words fueling every step.
He was at his desk, the city sprawling behind him like a kingdom he owned.
Liam stood before him, receiving quiet, rapid-fire instructions.
They both looked up as I entered. Liam's eyes widened slightly before he schooled his features into neutrality.
Falon's gaze was a winter storm.
"Liam, that will be all," Falon said, his voice clipped.
Liam gave a curt nod and swiftly left, closing the door with a soft, definitive click.
The silence that followed was heavy and charged.
"Selene paid me a visit," I said, my voice dangerously calm.
"She seemed to think my public image requires your… personal intervention. Something about a press statement?"
Falon leaned back in his chair, the picture of controlled authority.
"The situation requires a firm, unified response. A statement is the most efficient way to control the damage."
"Damage?" The word snapped out of me.
"I am not 'damage' to be controlled, Falon. I am the Luna. This is an attack on me, and I will answer it."
"You will do no such thing." He stood, placing his palms flat on the desk.
"Your idea of 'answering it' is what created this crisis. You are emotional and unpredictable. You will only make it worse."
"So your solution is to lock me away? To hide me like a shameful secret?" I took a step closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"What if I refuse? What if I walk out of here and give my own version of the truth?"
He was around the desk in a fluid, predatory movement, closing the distance between us. The air grew cold.
"Then you will learn the true cost of defying me," he said, his voice a low, venomous whisper that vibrated in my bones.
He loomed over me, all traces of the strategist gone, replaced by the raw Alpha who commanded absolute obedience.
"This is not a game, Riley. This is the stability of our pack. Do not test me on this."
I held my ground, my heart hammering against my ribs, not in fear, but in fury. The line was drawn.
"Liam!" Falon's command cracked through the room.
The door opened instantly. Liam stood there, his posture rigid.
"Take the Luna to the safe house at Hillside. You are to keep her there. She does not leave your sight. Understood?"
Liam's eyes flickered to me for a fraction of a second, a silent apology, before he looked back at his Alpha. "Understood, sir."
Falon's gaze bore into me, a final, unyielding command. "It's for your own protection."
I said nothing.
I turned and walked out, following Liam, the gears in my mind already turning, crafting a new plan. A more dangerous one.
He thought this was an ultimatum.
He was about to find out it was a declaration of war.
The car was a cage on wheels. And I was its prisoner.
Liam drove in a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence in the space between us.
I watched the sleek, powerful heart of the city give way to tree-lined streets, then to the open highway leading toward the distant, shadowed mountains.
Each mile marker was a nail in the coffin of my agency.
My phone felt heavy in my hand, a dormant weapon.
I could feel Liam's tense focus, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
He was a good soldier, following orders. But I needed a revolutionary.
"Turn the car around, Liam," I said, my voice cutting through the silence.
"Take me to the SHE-KNOWS studio."
His grip tightened. "Luna, you heard the Alpha. My orders are explicit. I can't."
"Can't?" I let the word hang, laced with challenge. "Or won't? I am your Luna. Is his command the only one you respect? Do my words mean nothing to you?"
"It's not about disrespect!" The words burst from him, strained with frustration. "It's about your safety! That video has painted a target on your back. The safe house is the most secure location we have. This is a direct order for your protection."
"Protection?" A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Liam, look at me. Hiding is not protection. It's a surrender. It's a slow, quiet death by a thousand whispers. They are calling me a monster. They are saying I should be 'put down.' If I run and hide, that is the story that wins. That is the narrative they will use to bury me." I leaned forward, my voice dropping, raw with a conviction I needed him to feel.
"I have to face this. I have to look them in the eye and show them I am not afraid. I can't do that from a gilded cage in the mountains."
I saw his jaw clench in the rearview mirror.
The conflict was raging inside him—duty warring with something deeper, something that recognized the truth.
"I'm not asking you to disobey him for me," I said softly, my final, desperate play.
"I'm asking you to do what's right for the pack. But if you can't... I understand." I took a breath, my next words absolute. "But you aren't taking me anywhere, either."
I met his eyes in the mirror. "Stop the car, Liam."
He hesitated, the car slowing almost imperceptibly. "Luna—"
"Stop. The. Car."
With a sharp sigh of resignation, he pulled the sedan onto the gravel shoulder. The engine idled, a nervous hum.
I didn't wait. I pushed my door open and got out, the cool evening air a shock against my skin.
He was out a second later, rounding the car. "Luna, please. Be reasonable. Get back in the car."
I stood my ground, my posture straight, every inch the Luna he was sworn to serve. "That's an order, Liam. Stay."
I saw the battle in his eyes—the loyal soldier versus the man who knew, in his soul, that I was right.
He took half a step forward, then stopped, his shoulders slumping in defeated acceptance.
I didn't look back.
I turned and started walking toward the glow of the city in the distance, pulling out my phone.
My fingers flew over the screen, calling the one person I knew would answer.
It rang once.
"Clara," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
"I'm out. Send a car to my location now. Tell me you have the meeting with Vanessa set up."
Her voice was a rush of panic and fierce loyalty. "It's done. They're holding the slot for you. The car is two minutes away. I'm tracking your phone."
The line went dead.
I stood alone on the gravel shoulder, the highway lights stretching out behind me like a string of fallen stars.
The enormity of what I had just done settled over me.
I had defied the Alpha.
I had commanded his most loyal guard.
I was a rogue Luna, utterly alone, racing toward a live television broadcast with everything to lose.
Headlights appeared over the crest of the hill, speeding toward me.
It slowed, pulling onto the shoulder. The door swung open.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, my hand closing around the cool metal of the door handle.
It was too late to turn back now.