Mute Luna: The Assassin Of Her Lycan King

The pungent, damp smell of wet clothes clung to the air, mingling with the squeaks of rodents scuttling too close for comfort. My entire body screamed with pain, my whole nerve wrecked, and for a slight moment, I wished the agony would simply end. My throat, dry to the point of cracking, fought even to let air pass.

“Help... he... lp,” I tried to scream, but all that escaped was a pathetic whisper. The effort alone sent sharp aches through my chest. How long had I been here? I couldn’t tell anymore. Time have seem to have stood still.

I closed my eyes, willing for any form of release. “Moon Goddess,” I whispered silently, my tears hot as they streaked down my filth-covered face. “If you’re real, if you can hear me, please help me. If not to survive, then let me die. Anything to end this.” The prayer was bitter, raw, and full of anger. I didn’t care if cursing the goddess brought me more bad fortune. What could possibly be worse than this? She deserved my rage for letting me suffer like this.

The moments stretched, heavy with despair. My thoughts grew hazy, and I clung to the faintest shred of hope, the way a sea drowning man clings to any piece he could find. That’s when it happened. A flicker of light pierced the darkness, causing me to wince and squeeze my eyes shut. My heart leapt before dread quickly dragged it back down. The metallic jangle of keys shattered the silence, followed by heavy, deliberate footsteps. The scent of sweat and cruelty filled my senses even before he spoke. Benson.

“Wakie, wakie, princess,” Benson’s mocking tone reached me, slicing through the air like a whip. I didn’t need to see his face to know the sadistic smirk he always wore.

I shifted slightly, a weak attempt to shield myself from his gaze. “I hope you’re not dead yet. That’d be such a waste,” he sneered, nudging my limp body with his boot. his kick sent fresh waves of pain shooting through me, forcing a low groan from my cracked lips.

I tried to rise, but my body refused to obey. The wounds that laced my skin felt like they had just been set aflame, each one a burning reminder of my weakness. I wasn’t like them—like him. Without a wolf, my body couldn’t heal properly, leaving me vulnerable to every cruel act. And Benson? He swam joyously in it.

I know you're wondering how I got myself in this situation right.

I'm Ember, the mistress mute daughter to the late Crescent Moon alpha.

I'm being tortured by my stepbrother Leo because his mate told him she didn't like how I looked at her.

“Here,” he said, tossing a small pouch of water in front of me. It landed with a dull thud, tantalizingly close yet so far from my grasp. Ignoring the excruciating pain in my muscles, I dragged myself forward on trembling arms, every inch a battle against my broken body. But before I could reach it, Benson grabbed the pouch and laughed cruelly.

“I’ll assume you’re not thirsty, then,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my matted hair and yanked me upright. I screamed—or at least, I tried. The sound that came out was a strangled whimper. My scalp burned as he dragged me along, my bare feet scraping against the cold, jagged floor.

Each step felt like an eternity, the world around me blurring as tears clouded my vision. I stumbled, barely managing to stay upright, the metallic taste of my own blood filling my mouth. I didn’t ask where he was taking me; I didn’t need to. The laughter echoing from ahead told me everything I needed to know. Annastasia.

Her voice grated against my ears before I even saw her. “Well, well, look who’s still alive,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. I hated the way she spoke, the way her words twisted into knives aimed at my very soul.

I was shoved forward, landing hard on the cold floor of the alpha's quarters. The impact knocked what little air I had left from my lungs, and I lay there, trembling. Annastasia's heels clicked against the floor as she approached. She crouched beside me, her perfectly manicured red nails digging into my scalp as she yanked my head upward.

“Look at you,” she hissed, her face inches from mine. “You’re pathetic, Ember. A disgrace to the Crescent Moon Pack.” Her smile was a blade, sharp and cruel, and I could see the sick pleasure she took in my suffering.

“Don’t get too close, Luna Anna,” Benson’s voice chimed in from behind her. “You don’t want to catch whatever filth she’s carrying.”

Annastasia let out a laugh, but before she could say more, my stepbrother Leo’s voice cut through the room like ice. “That’s enough, Anna.” His tone was bored, disinterested, as if my suffering was no more significant than a speck of dust on his desk. “Ben, take her to the pack healer. We have guests arriving soon, and I won’t have her disgusting state ruining our image.”

“But I wasn’t finished—”

“I said enough!” Leo’s voice rose, a sharp bark of authority that silenced even Annastasia.

With a huff, she released her hold on me, and my head hit the floor with a sickening thud. I lay there, barely breathing, as Benson dragged me out once again. My body screamed for mercy, but my mind was too numb to register anything beyond the overwhelming darkness that soon claimed me.

In the moments before I lost consciousness, a flicker of something stirred deep within me, a quiet, desperate strength. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe hope. Maybe anger. Maybe the faintest hint of hatred. Whatever it was, it was enough to keep me breathing, even as I wished for the sweet freedom ofdeath.