My Luna Is A Lycan

Larissa's POV.

Seven years had passed since the gruesome death of my uncle, yet it still felt like yesterday. I could still hear his screams as he tried to fend off the palace werewolves that came to attack him. The memory of his flesh being torn apart by their wild, monstrous fangs remained vivid in my mind. I doubted I could ever forget that, never.

I had been training ever since the incident with only one goal in mind: the death of the royal wolves. They were all going to pay for what they did to my family.

Releasing my grip, the arrow sliced through the air, hitting a dummy I had made from scratch. I never missed a target. I had suffered because of them, and I had already promised myself to get rid of them all. I swore to the moon goddess to end the generation of the royals who slaughtered my family, even if it was the very last thing I did.

Picking up my bow and arrow, I headed towards the darkness of the forest. I lived in a secluded hut, far from the town, where not many people ventured due to rumors of it being haunted by vengeful ghosts – the ghosts of those brutally slaughtered by the royals. They were not too far from the truth.

The hut had been where I trained before his death, and now it was where I lived and trained, alone and undisturbed by outsiders.

The day had finally arrived to put my plan in motion. I had been training rigorously and putting in much effort to ensure the smooth execution of my well-laid-out plan. It was quite simple yet dangerous: provoke the royal soldiers. This would set everything else in place.

I looked over the map I had painstakingly drawn from scratch. According to the intel I had gathered from my spies in the market square, today was the best day to cause trouble. Today was the day the slaves were going to be transported to the palace.

Putting on my cloak, I ventured into the bustling streets of the town to purchase all the ammunition and supplies I would need. Standing in front of a shop, I made sure my face was covered as I pretended to peruse the wares.

With my back turned to the street, I heard the pounding sounds of approaching horses, followed by footsteps. Turning around, I watched as a group of about twenty-two young maidens were being dragged by swiftly moving horses, their hands tied together as foot soldiers mercilessly whipped them to hasten their pace. This was my cue; it was now or never.

Waiting until the last foot soldier had passed, I stepped into the middle of the road, slipped my hands into my satchel, and pulled out a delicately carved dagger. Taking aim at one of the horses, I threw it with practiced precision, watching as it struck the horse, throwing the soldier down without warning.

"Hey you!" One of the soldiers screamed as I gave him my most annoying smirk. Everything was going as planned. Slipping into the crowd, I knew I was being chased by the soldiers.

Of course, I wasn't going to make it too difficult for them to catch me. After some playful evasion, I slowed my pace, pretending to be tired from the chase.

Strong hands gripped me from behind as another landed a blow on my face.

"Foolish mutt," another soldier spat, walking closer. He seemed like a superior-ranking soldier, and I was determined to annoy him.

My mouth stung as I spat blood into his face, laughing crazily as my eyes shone with stubbornness.

He threw another punch at me, bringing forth more blood from my mouth. The pain hurt like a bitch, but I was determined not to show it. I needed these soldiers angrier than they already were, so I provoked them further.

"Take her along; she'll be useful as one of the slaves," a voice ordered.

I saw the stoic face of a man, tall with broad shoulders and long dark hair.

"What's your name, mutt?" he asked.

I looked away, not bothering to reply. He moved closer.

"I'm not going to ask again. What's your name?"

"I don't think it's any of your business," I replied.

The man, whose name I didn't yet know, hit me square in the chin. He was going to hit me again, but another soldier stopped him.

"Carlos, stop it. You'll hurt the slave, and you remember what the Alpha said before leaving."

Carlos looked at me with distaste, spitting on my face before walking away, leaving me to be dragged along with the others.

I began taunting Carlos purely for amusement, but soon realized that my taunts were propelling me closer to my plan. Consequently, I intensified the taunting.

Meanwhile, the other slaves regarded me as though I had lost my mind.

Initially, none of my words seemed to deeply affect him, which was frustrating.

After a while, I decided to deploy a tactic that always resonated deeply with wolves:

"Pup, did your mother drop you on your head?"

The moment those words left my lips, Carlos turned around, consumed with rage, but the guards restrained him.

Smirking inwardly at my triumph, I continued to provoke him. Provoking a senior ranking werewolf was the same as provoking the alpha.

I muttered more words, directly attacking his parents, and suddenly, he fixed me with intensely green eyes. The restraints on him were weakening.

Wolves. Such easy creatures. They could endure any form of verbal abuse, but an attack on their parents ignited an uncontrollable rage, transforming their typically impassive expressions.

Some of the slaves begged me to stop taunting Carlos, but I continued until he broke free and hit me once again.

I smiled at the feeling of pain; it had been a while since I felt it. My mind wandered, wondering if that's how my uncle felt when they murdered him, but I would never know since he was no longer here to tell me.

People kept trying to restrain him, but I was already blacking out.

...

Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dimly lit space. Confusion flooded my mind as memories flashed through my consciousness. Sitting up, I surveyed my surroundings, realizing with a jolt that I was in what appeared to be a dungeon.

Holes perforated the ceiling, allowing water to drip into the room, intensifying the already chilling atmosphere.

Observing my companions, I noticed two figures-a frail woman, likely my age, and a young girl with wide eyes filled with pity.

Approaching the door, I discovered a silver padlock securing it shut. Despite my attempts to pick the lock with a pin from my hair, the mechanism remained steadfastly closed.

"You can't open it, so give up," the frail woman's voice, laden with exhaustion, interrupted my futile efforts.

Ignoring her warning, I persisted, frustration mounting as my attempts proved fruitless. As I ran a hand through my hair in vexation, memories of Carlos's brutal attacks flashed through my mind, igniting a fiery pain on my face.

"You seem fragile. You should save your little strength," she finished, giving me that pitiful look again.

"Fragile. That's a new way of describing me. What's your name?" I asked, attempting to inject levity into the tense atmosphere.

"Lia," she replied softly.

"Lia," I echoed, offering her a wry smile. "Do not mistake femininity for weakness."

The room fell silent, and soon four guards entered the cell and approached me with a chain.

"That's not fair, four against one. Didn't Carlos tell you to be gentle with me? That I am supposedly fragile?" I mocked.

They tied my hands with the chains, the silver cutting into my skin. I wasn't going to say or do anything yet; it was going to ruin all the fun.

They guided me out of the dark dungeons, and we emerged into the bright sun. I closed my eyes to adjust to the light, but darkness covered me again.

They blindfolded me, probably so I wouldn't know the direction they were taking me. It was smart; they didn't underestimate me too much.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

None of them replied; they just kept dragging me along. We finally came to a halt, and I was thrown to the ground. The blindfold was removed, and my eyes adjusted to the light. I was in an empty chamber.

The chamber was indeed beautiful, with its bare stone walls, timbered ceiling, polished wooden floor, and monumental fireplace decorated in a true medieval style. A hand-carved throne stood majestically, at the center of the room.

"What am I doing here?"

I demanded of the four guards who stood looming over me, but they remained silent. As I turned to face them, the giant door swung open, revealing the two people responsible for all my miseries.

Alpha Alexander, the Alpha King of the kingdom of Eldoria, sauntered into the alpha chambers majestically, the weight of the wolf's skin he wore streamlined with his movement. Upon entering, he glanced briefly at me before waving his hands haphazardly.

"So, this was the little spitfire who had the guts to attack my soldiers?"

he remarked, stretching forth his hands to grab my face. He examined my distorted features with open amusement.

"Carlos. He really did a number on you," he said, his voice dripping with disdain as he released my face and walked over to his throne, sitting down gracefully.

One of the guards tightened the chains around my hands, the silver cutting deeper into my skin with each tug.

Riella, the Luna who walked in alongside the Alpha, had her skin covered by grey wolf skin, which gave her silver-colored hair a spectacular glow.

I knew too well not to be deceived by her otherworldly looks; she was as ruthless and wicked as her husband.

"What's your name?" she commanded, her voice seething with anger, as if my mere presence in the chambers was a complete waste of her time.

I met her gaze defiantly, resisting the urge to retort sarcastically. I couldn't afford to jeopardize my chances of vengeance by being too outspoken. For now.

"Larissa," I replied evenly, though her fuming face betrayed her anger.

She stormed over and slapped me across the face with fury.

"Next time you disrespect me, I will make sure you never use your tongue again," she threatened.

Alpha Alexander, still watching the scene unfold, took a step closer, his black eyes betraying nothing of his emotions.

"I should throw you to my harem," he mused, his voice dangerously low.

"And let every single male slave in my kingdom have their way with you until all your disrespect is stripped out of your eyes."

Indeed, he was a devil. How could he be so void of emotion? I wondered, seething with hatred as I tried to maintain an unaffected facade.

Suddenly, an intimidating figure banged open the chamber door, obscuring his face from clear view as he stood at a distance. He raised his voice, silencing all other noise, in a deep, booming manner.

"Get away from my mate," he boomed.