The Broken Luna's Crimson Revenge

Chapter 5

Word Count: 797 | Released on: Today at 18:16

Thor

to close around the box, I d

r's ashes, fell slack. And then, in a movement that sent a shock

hard marble floor was a dull, sickenin

froze mid-grab, his face

I bowed my head. I tilted my neck to the side, expos

complete and total surrender of one's life and will to a superior. A gasp rippled through the onlookers. A Luna performing suc

I crushed her dissent with an iron will. My pride was a currency I was

rembling thing that clung to the floor. "I

e role they had assigned me-the unstable, hy

weaving a pathetic, nonsensical excuse that would ap

cold stone. "I was wrong to push Zane. I never meant to frighten Freya. P

pleading whine. I was dis

the lie coming to me in a flash of despe

ck had taken him years ago. His name still carried weight with the pack elders. I felt a few p

my "insanity" that they could understand, a reason that

mission. His authority had been challenged, and now it had been affirmed in the most pu

a flat, dismissive disgust. He was repulsed by my weakness, by

her advantage, but Ryker shot her a look that sil

ooked down at me. His voice was still cold, stripped of all emotion. "Yo

e icy floor, a gesture of even deeper debasement.

y my own pathetic form. I was a mother animal, using my own

To punish his Luna, now that she was so thoroughly broken before him, would

d was for me

be decided after the ceremony. For now, get out of my sight. G

he sweetest sound I had ever he

for what felt like an eternity finally

ashes w

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

The Broken Luna's Crimson Revenge

Xiao Zhaoling Werewolf

“My baby daughter died in the cold hospital, and I agreed to donate her heart to save another pup. I brought her ashes home in a small wooden box, seeking comfort from my mate. But when I returned to the packhouse, I found a massive celebration. My Alpha mate wasn't away on patrol; he was throwing a grand Naming Ceremony for his sister's newborn. He didn't even know our daughter was dead. "Give Lyra the gift. Now." He impatiently demanded I hand over the box in my arms. When his sister's son tried to snatch it, I pushed him away to protect my baby's ashes. His sister immediately screamed, accusing me of trying to hurt her children out of jealousy. Without asking a single question, my mate grabbed my wrist, ready to smash the box to teach me a lesson. To save my daughter's remains, I had to drop to the floor, bare my neck in ultimate submission, and lie that it was just my late father's relics. He was disgusted by my tears. Later, when I tried to jump off the balcony to end my pain, he pulled me back-not out of love, but because my suicide would ruin his perfect party. He locked me in my room and ordered the maids to force me into a bright red dress for the evening feast. Looking at the red silk that mocked my bleeding heart, my despair finally died, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred. I tucked a white funeral flower into my hair and walked out the door. This time, I was going to turn their joyous celebration into a living hell.”