Chapter 13

Scarlet’s Pov

I opened my eyes.

Soft. That was the first thing I noticed. I wasn’t lying on the hard, cold floor of the cage anymore. Beneath me was something soft, far too gentle to belong to the nightmare I had endured.

The room around me looked like something straight out of a historical painting. Elegant, old-fashioned, and warm. The windows were open, allowing golden sunlight to stream inside, painting the walls in soft hues of morning glow.

Sunlight.

I blinked.

Back in the Moon Lord Pack, it was always cold. The sky was often blanketed with thick, grey clouds, swallowing any trace of warmth. But here? It felt as if the very heavens had opened their doors and let the sun in just for me.

Then it hit me.

I gasped.

“Oh my god... I died.”

Of course. That was the only explanation.

I must have died.

I looked around in panic, my gaze landing on an old woman standing near the bed. She was dressed in a simple cotton gown, her white hair neatly tied back. She was short, delicate even, but when her eyes met mine, I froze.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said gently, stepping closer and pressing a hand to my forehead.

Her touch was soft. Softer than anything I had ever known.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Huh?” My voice came out dazed.

What does one feel when they're dead?

But… weren't angels supposed to be eternally young and breathtakingly beautiful? That’s how books had always described them. Or maybe literature had objectified and romanticized them, too.

“Can you hear me?” she asked again, her voice calm, patient.

“I can,” I replied, offering a small smile. “Are you an angel?”

She studied me for a moment before smiling. “No, dear. I’m not an angel.”

I blinked. My mind struggled to grasp what was happening.

"Does your throat hurt?" she asked.

I hesitated, then touched my throat. A dull pain lingered there. My fingers traced over the bruises and scratches that hadn’t disappeared. My hands, too, still bore the same wounds.

And worse…

I was still wearing that god-awful wedding dress.

Why was heaven as miserable as earth?

"Because, dear, you are not in one," the old woman said, as if reading my thoughts.

My heart stopped.

"Huh?" My voice wavered. "I’m... not dead?"

She chuckled softly. “What kind of doctor would I be if you were?”

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over me.

I wasn’t dead.

I was still alive.

And that meant... I still had to live in this fucked-up world. 

Suddenly, the old woman burst into laughter.

“Tell me,” she said, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Did you really think you died and went to heaven?”

Embarrassed, I nodded. “In my defense, you look and feel like an angel.”

She smiled warmly and reached out to caress my cheek, her touch impossibly gentle. But the moment of lightheartedness faded as her gaze dropped to my throat, her expression turning serious.

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

I hesitated before answering, “There was this big man… golden hair. Someone named Rome.”

The old woman’s eyes widened in shock. “Rome did this? Why?”

“He said I killed someone.” I let out a tired chuckle. “But I’ve never even killed a rabbit. Look at me—do I look like I’m capable of killing anyone?” I shook my head, my voice tinged with exhaustion. “I can neither live nor die… If I were someone who could kill, wouldn’t I be in a better place by now?”

The old woman studied me carefully before saying, “Little girl, I noticed something peculiar about you. You have a very faint wolf presence—so faint that if I weren’t an experienced doctor, I wouldn’t have even detected it.”

I sighed. “I was born without one. But then, one day, she appeared on her own… small, like a rabbit. She never comes out. She is always sleeping. She is too weak…”

The woman hummed in thought, intrigued. “Interesting… Tell me more about her.”

Before I could speak, a knock sounded at the door.

“Madam, the Alpha is here,” a voice announced from the other side.

The old woman’s posture shifted, her warmth replaced by something unreadable. Sadness, maybe. Or was it something else?

“I’m coming,” she said, before turning back to me. “Rest well. I will see you later.”

Just as she was about to leave, a question escaped my lips.

“Madam, what pack is this?”

She turned, her expression now one of curiosity. “You don’t know?”

I shook my head. “I was kidnapped from my wedding.”

The old woman let out a quiet sigh, muttering under her breath. “These boys…” Then, she looked at me and said clearly, “Phantom Moon. This is the Phantom Moon Pack.”

As the door shut behind her, a shudder ran through me.

Phantom Moon.

The name didn’t remind me of the formidable Alpha Dante, the one everyone feared.

No.

It reminded me of someone else.

The stranger I had spent the night with.

The one whose scent was etched into my mind and soul.

The one I could not bear to forget.

The one I was terrified to meet again.

As if everything wasn’t overwhelming enough, there he was—the magnificent stranger—standing right in front of me.

His glowing eyes bore into mine as if he couldn’t believe I was real. As if I were never supposed to be here.

 As if he didn’t know what to do with me.

As if he was on the verge of devouring me whole, of tearing me apart and putting me back together just to claim me as his.

As if my mere existence shattered something within him, something primal, something dangerous.

As if I were a forbidden chapter in his life, one he had never meant to turn to.

As if…