Page 5 of Vicious Luna
I immediately stop the movement of my fingers, knowing it’s my tell that I’m stressed. “Just one of those days,” I grumble as I watch him turn to set the glasses on the island, tipping a sizable pour of liquor into each. “Matty’s taking theBravo team over to zone three, they’re gonna attempt a snatch and grab on an Alpha-Luna pair.”
“Really?” Dad asks slyly, recapping the bottle and pushing one of the glasses in my direction.
“Yeah, guess we might get a chance to execute that plan of yours after all,” I mutter, throwing back the scotch as soon as it’s in my hand. I’ve never considered myself a heavy drinker, but ever since Ben died, it’s the only thing that numbs the pain. I don’t want to face it; don’t want to deal with the reality of losing my best friend. The only real friend I’ve ever had.
“We’ll see if Bravo Team can pull it off,” Dad replies with a grunt, taking a sip from his own glass.
He doesn’t sound optimistic that they’ll succeed, and I can’t say I blame him. At this point, we’re used to disappointment. Hell, I don’t even remember what his plan was for bringing in a high-profile target, I just know that every time it’s been attempted, we haven’t made it past step one.
“If they do, you’re gonna need to dry out,” Dad murmurs, dropping his voice low so the soldiers in the adjacent room can’t listen in on our conversation.
“No shit,” I hiss in response, tossing back the rest of the scotch. I slam my empty glass down on the counter, meeting his eyes as I push it toward him across the black-veined granite. “Until then, though, or until we have another decent fucking plan for slaughtering these hellhounds, I’ll take another.”
He heaves a disapproving sigh but fills my glass, nonetheless. Dad’s been where I am before. He recruited his closest friend to the cause, then lost him on a mission gone wrong. He hasn’t been right in the head since, and I’m beginning to wonder if Ben’s death is doing the same thing to me.
Then again, Dad wasn’t quite right before that, either- which is how we got involved with this whole werewolf mess in the first place.
I listen halfheartedly as he rambles on about business for a while, then heads out to make some calls about gathering reinforcements to replace the soldiers we recently lost. I swap my glass for the rest of the bottle and relocate to one of the couches in the living room, taking pulls straight from the rim and emanating enough ‘fuck off’ energy that nobody bothers me.
At some point, I must nod off, because I’m startled awake by the shrill sound of my cell phone ringing, the empty scotch bottle slipping from my fingers as I scramble to get my phone out of my pocket. The bottle clanks against the hardwood and rolls away while I answer my phone without even glancing at the caller ID on the screen.
“What?” I snap down the receiver, my voice rough with sleep.
“We got her!” Matty announces excitedly on the other end of the line. “We got the Luna!”
4
My eyelids flutter, awareness slowly creeping in as I start to wake up.
Something isn’t right.I’m not tucked up in my cushy bed in the Goldenleaf packhouse, surrounded by a cocoon of soft pillows and blankets. No, my back is aching because I’m lying on a hard floor, the surface of which is so cold that it feels like it’s turning my skin to ice.
Though my head is pounding, I force my eyes open, blinking as my groggy mind struggles to discern where I am and remember how the hell I got here. My muscles ache in protest when I move to sit up, and as I take stock of my surroundings, my breathing stalls, pulse taking off at a gallop.
It’s a cell. I’m in a goddamncell.
What in the actual fuck?!
My throat tightens, panic gripping me as I swing my head back and forth, surveying the cramped space. The walls and floor are concrete, a row of steel bars across the front of the cell facing a dark hallway. The only source of light emanates from a small window at the back of the cell, about six feet off the ground and barely a foot high. From the view through the window, it appears to be situated at ground level, tuftsof grass sprouting along the bottom edge of the pane. The window itself is dirty, though. I can’t see much beyond the grass right in front of it through the grime coating the glass. Nothing that would help pinpoint my location, anyway.
I swing my gaze around the interior of the cell, taking note of the meager furnishings. There’s a metal cot with a thin mattress- no bedding, because that’d be too kind- and a solitary toilet in the corner.That’s it.I mean, I suppose I should be thankful that there’s an actual toilet and not a damn bucket or something, but I’m finding it a little difficult to summon any modicum of gratitude when I just woke up in a fuckingcell.
What the hell happened?
I rub my fingers against my temple, my head still throbbing in pain. My whole body feels like one big bruise. Whoever transported me here clearly wasn’t gentle, but how the fuck did they get their hands on me in the first place, and why don’t I remember?
My headache only intensifies as I try to weed through my memories. Whatever they knocked me out with has my brain feeling scrambled, but I vaguely recall having a conversation with someone in IT about one of our new border cameras suddenly going offline. Our community of wolf shifters has been on high alert for the last decade, ever since it became apparent that someone was hunting our kind, so we run a tight ship when it comes to matters of security. And as the daughter of an Alpha, I’m one of the leaders of our alliance’s security squad.
Well, I’m technically the sister of an Alpha now. My dad retired a couple years back, passing his title onto my twin brother. The two of us, along with the sons and daughters of the other Alphas in our alliance, run the security squad, tasked with keeping the whole six-pack territory safe. We’ve been preparing for the hunters for years, but it wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that we had our first deadly brush with them. Theyattacked two of our six territories on the night of the full moon, and though we managed to get the upper hand and take them all out, we know based on our intel that was barely half their forces. Which is why when we discovered that they’d damaged some of the border cameras that night, my brother and I personally went out to replace them with new ones.
When I got word that one of the new cameras had suddenly gone down, I assumed it was just a malfunction of the equipment. It wouldn’t be the first time that we’ve had a new camera shit out on us after a week due to a manufacturer defect. So, I enlisted the help of another squad fighter to go out there with me and investigate, and Tommy Benson was happy to accompany me to the border of Riverton’s territory to check it out. But when we got there…
I wince, rubbing harder at my temple as I focus on my hazy recollection of the chain of events. When we took a look at the camera, it was obvious that it’d been deliberately tampered with. Before we could even discuss how or why, let alone repair the damn thing, I saw a tranquilizer dart sink into Tommy’s shoulder, and a fraction of a second later, I felt the sting of another piercing my own neck.
It was a trap, and we walked right into it.
I lift a hand to the side of my neck, ghosting my fingertips over the skin and feeling a small divot where the needle pierced through. It shouldn’t still be there. It was dinnertime when Tommy and I went out to check the camera, and judging by the early morning light filtering in through the window, I must’ve been passed out all night… so why haven’t I healed?
I try to call on my inner wolf, but I can’t feel her at all- there’s just a hollow space inside my consciousness where she usually resides. My wolf has been part of me for so long that I forget she’s even there most of the time, but now that she’s silent, it feels like part of my soul has been cleaved out.Awareness sinks in that there’s a dull ache simmering in my veins, like I’m bruised on the inside, too.