The Scarred Luna: Taming The Ruthless Alpha

JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless idiot" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air.

Before I could even react, her hand slammed across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder.

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow.

No explanation was needed. This mark would stay visible for a long time.

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking.

I lifted my gaze slightly.

She answered with a gob of spit.

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away.

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wretch."

Tears escaped me despite myself.

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice.

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream.

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice.

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, stroking her hair as if nothing had just happened.

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this dog will do it," she declared softly.

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my chest like a blade.

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my blood run cold.

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing.

They talked about me as if I didn't exist.

As if I were nothing but an object.

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away.

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants.

I was left alone with the silence.

My entire life had unfolded this way.

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected.

But none of it had ever applied to me.

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery.

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden affair with her.

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out.

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her.

When she fell pregnant, she was locked away even more tightly.

I was born premature, in pain and blood.

My mother didn't survive.

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder.

I was blamed for her death.

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive.

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life.

Against all odds, I didn't die.

But my survival changed nothing.

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised.

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation.

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me.

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately.

My body seized up.

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors.

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake.

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care.

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching.

The silence was oppressive.

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this.

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied.

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected.

Our blood ties had never mattered.

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust.

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty.

The enforcer approached.

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen.

He tore the fabric from my back.

The cold air bit into my skin.

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began.

"Strip her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice.

I stood paralyzed.

The fabric was completely ripped away.

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with.

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my chest.

The first blow landed.

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning.

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the blood, the dizziness.

I made out Urélia in the distance.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene.

It was forbidden.

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs.

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight.

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos.

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body.

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted.

Jessie protested, but no one really listened.

I was carried away from the scene.

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me.

Then everything went dark.

A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness.

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move.

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me.

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist.

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds.

A cry escaped me despite myself.

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves.

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain.

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival.

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me.

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food.

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands.

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now.

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer.

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time.

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace.

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin.

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning.

And there was something else. The worst part.

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf.

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone.

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me.

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation.

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back.

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat.

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her.

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress.

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force.

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore.

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle.

Bells.

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched.

My father.

The one who had ignored me my entire life.

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him.

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his blood.

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow.

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer.

As for me, I remained hidden.

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place.

Then I stopped dreaming.

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under.

...

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone.

His face was closed off, hard as stone.

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation.

For the first time in decades, he had lost.

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack.

Worse still, to Xaeron.

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead.

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage.

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee.

It was a shame he had never known before.

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves.

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more.

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted.

"We lost," he finally said.

The shock froze her in place.

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation.

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power.

Then betrayal had destroyed everything.

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bloodline.

But Xaeron had returned.

And now, he demanded reparation.

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall.

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly.

The silence became oppressive.

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my blood."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes.

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality.

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags.

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched.

Why me?

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided?

The great doors swung open.

The room swallowed me whole.

They were all there.

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years.

And in the center, there he was.

Alpha Balak.

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it.

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine.

I felt my throat tighten.

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented.

Was that really all this was?

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head.

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side.

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly.

I obeyed.

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch.

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness.

My heart was beating too fast.

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice.

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false.

A chill ran through me.

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more.

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me.

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body.

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee.

Since then, I had avoided him like a blade already drawn from its sheath.

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in.

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see.

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation.

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away.

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him.

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him.

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence.

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me.

"Answer," Balak ordered.

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice.

He relayed the information.

An even colder silence settled in.

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded.

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds.

I stifled a flinch.

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own blood."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing.

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission.

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply.

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn.

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had.

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress.

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone.

Xaeron.

I couldn't understand.

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic.

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed.

I no longer understood anything.

Everything was falling apart without logic.

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of blood is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked.

Exile?

Me?

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat.

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he.

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured.

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha.

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way.

No one.

Balak's face hardened.

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me.

A prize?

Me?

I stepped back slightly without realizing it.

Was Xaeron coming for me?

And what war had we lost without me even knowing?

I no longer had any grip on what was happening.

Nothing felt real.

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."