He Tried to Kill Me, Now I’m the Enemy Alpha’s Luna

“End the Luna if the child survives.”

I forget how to breathe.

The words slip through the thick stone door ahead of me, delivered evenly, without anger or urgency—spoken the way one might approve a shipment or settle a minor dispute, not decree a woman’s execution.

For a heartbeat, I tell myself I misheard. That my mind twisted something harmless into something monstrous.

Then the voice comes again.

Measured. Unfeeling. So familiar it cleaves straight through my chest.

“She’s incapable of carrying an heir,” Alpha Corvin Vortain says. “She always has been. Four moons wasted confirming what we already knew.”

My hand moves to my abdomen before I’m aware of it.

Four moons.

Four lives that never stayed.

Four times I bled, broke, and sobbed in Corvin’s arms while he murmured about destiny, endurance, and the Moon’s mysterious designs.

Confirming it.

Even from this distance, the Council chamber reeks of burned herbs and ancient blood. The scent rolls into my throat, making bile rise. I flatten myself against the cold stone, my pulse thundering so hard I’m terrified it will betray me through the door.

An Elder clears his throat. “You speak as though the Luna’s losses were… intentional.”

“They were,” Corvin answers immediately. No pause. No doubt. “They had to happen.”

My vision swims.

Had to.

Another voice follows—careful, calculating. Elder Balthen. “And Maelis? You’re certain she is capable of producing the heir?”

Corvin releases a quiet breath, almost a chuckle.

“Maelis’s bloodline is untainted. Pure Alpha marrow. She answers the old laws. If anyone can give this pack what it needs, it’s her.”

Maelis.

My sister in name, not in blood.

The girl who lowers her eyes too perfectly and smiles too gently. The girl who calls me family while watching my mate like she’s already claimed him.

My throat tightens until it burns.

“Mireya has shown unwavering loyalty,” an Elder argues. “She has suffered for this pack.”

“She’s suffered enough,” Corvin replies coolly. “Loyalty doesn’t change her nature.”

Her nature.

An empty vessel.

A borrowed Luna.

A tool with an expiration date.

My legs tremble. I barely manage to stay standing.

“And the Luna herself?” Balthen asks. “If the Heir-Binding Rite is successful, what is to be done with her?”

Silence falls.

Even the torches seem to dim, flames shrinking as if they, too, are listening.

“She’s fulfilled her role,” Corvin says.

The words strike with terrifying precision. Absolute. Nonnegotiable.

Something inside me gives way.

Fulfilled.

Role.

I stagger backward, scraping my shoulder against stone as my breaths turn ragged and shallow. Memories crash into me all at once—Corvin claiming me beneath the Moon, his teeth at my throat as he vowed I was chosen. The Moon Trial I nearly died completing for him. The nights I wept against his chest after each loss, while he whispered comfort he never meant.

I retreat into a narrow alcove carved for dead Lunas and rest my forehead against the freezing wall.

I shouldn’t still be alive.

Not if my Alpha has already decided how I’ll die.

And then it hits me—harder than the terror.

The faint dizziness earlier.

The unfamiliar tug deep in my body.

The healer’s hesitation when she took my pulse.

I don’t need anyone to say it.

My hands shake as they press against my stomach.

No.

Not again.

If Corvin is preparing the Heir-Binding Rite, if Maelis has already been selected, then none of my pregnancies were mistakes.

They were offerings.

Four moons, he said.

Four tiny graves.

Footsteps echo through the corridor.

I scrub at my face, forcing myself upright just as a shadow stretches across the alcove.

“Mireya?”

Maelis stands before me, wrapped in pale ceremonial white. Her hair is braided flawlessly, her expression painted with concern so convincing it almost fools me.

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” she says softly.

I say nothing.

She drifts closer, her gaze sliding over me, keen and assessing beneath the gentleness.

“You look ill,” she murmurs. “Still mourning?”

“Get out of my way,” I whisper.

Her smile widens, pleased.

“Oh, sister,” she says lightly. “You’ve never been good at pretending.”

She inhales slowly.

Her eyes gleam.

“There it is,” she breathes. “That smell.”

My blood freezes.

She lifts her gaze to mine, sweetness sharpening into something vicious.

“You’re carrying a child,” she says. “Again.”

My hand jumps to my belly on instinct.

Maelis lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”

She reaches toward me.

I strike her hand away.

She doesn’t even blink.

“Do you truly believe Corvin would allow you to keep it?” she asks quietly.

“If he lays a hand on my child—” My voice splinters.

“He already has,” Maelis murmurs.

The floor seems to tilt beneath my feet.

She leans in close, close enough for me to catch the scent of moonflower oil clinging to her skin.

“The Council convenes tonight,” she whispers. “They’re deciding whether your body still serves a purpose.”

My stomach churns violently.

Then she straightens, smoothing her dress as though she hasn’t just sealed my fate.

“Come,” she says brightly. “You shouldn’t be late. Corvin dislikes being humiliated by his Luna.”

She turns away, confident I’ll follow.

Because obedient Lunas always do.

My fingers brush the faded bite mark at my neck—the mark that once meant safety, belonging.

Now it feels like a chain.

I press my palm over my womb and whisper, “I will protect you.”

Then I step out of the alcove and trail after Maelis toward the Council chamber.

Because fleeing now would only make me prey.

Behind the carved doors, Corvin’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and authoritative.

“Bring her in.”

The doors begin to part.

And in that moment, I understand—

The woman I was before this second no longer exists.