Reborn As My Alpha's Luna

Logan ran.

The night air tore against his skin like sharp teeth, but he didn't feel it. The forest around him blurred into streaks of black and silver, the sound of his breath a controlled growl beneath the pounding of his boots. He was fast inhumanly fast but not shifted. No fur. No claws. Just raw, honed dominance in human skin. Trees parted for him like they knew better. Even the wind didn't dare push against him.

A flash of a memory flickered before his eyes a dark cavern, blood on her dress, her body limp in his arms. The scent of betrayal.

He blinked. It vanished. The pain didn't.

The wrought-iron gates of the Crescent Hollow estate came into view, tall and coiled with vines that shimmered under the moonlight. Two guards stood post, but at the sight of their Alpha charging through the trees, they stiffened, eyes wide.

"Alpha..."

He didn't stop. Just brushed past them with a storm trailing behind him. They didn't follow.

Inside, the mansion rose like a beast in slumber ancient stone layered with steel and shadow. Candles burned low in the sconces, casting flickers across walls lined with history and power. Servants ducked into doorways at the sound of his boots. Some whispered. None dared speak aloud.

Logan stormed through the halls, a shadow of fury and precision, until he reached the heavy oak door of his study. He entered without pausing. The scent of scotch and leather met him. A fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, orange light licking the room.

He poured a drink, let the heat roll down his throat, and exhaled. Then silence.

Moments later, the door creaked open.

Marcus.

Loyal. Silent. Always too observant.

"You're back," Marcus said.

Logan didn't answer. He just raised an eyebrow.

Marcus stepped forward. "The Council came. They arrived an hour after you left. Demanded entry."

"And?"

"I let them wait. They wouldn't leave. They forced their way inside eventually."

Logan's jaw tightened. "Don't let them in again. Not without my permission."

Marcus stiffened. "That... that's never been done before."

"It has now."

The room fell silent again, but not for long. Raised voices echoed from the grand hall below.

Marcus tilted his head. "They've returned. Or maybe they never left."

A younger servant burst in. "Alpha, they pushed past the outer guards again. They're in the council room."

Logan didn't react. Just drained the glass and set it down.

"Let them wait," he said. Then, slowly, he stood, adjusted his cuffs, and walked out.

---

The Council room was a towering chamber carved from obsidian and silverwood. Ancient symbols glowed faintly on the walls. At the center, a circular table waited like an altar.

Seven Elders stood around it powerful, tired, hungry men and women who had ruled for centuries with whispers and tradition.

Logan entered like a storm disguised as a man.

No one sat.

"You broke into my home," he said.

Mira, always sharp, stepped forward. "You left us no choice."

"You always have a choice. You just prefer disrespect."

Varik slammed a fist against the table. "You barred the Council! The Alpha has never denied his elders."

"The Alpha," Logan said slowly, "has never been me."

Corran, calm but dangerous, spoke: "This isn't about power struggles. We came for your bride."

"You're late. I already have one in mind."

The silence cracked.

Mira: "You mean the dead Luna?"

Varik: "You think we'll let a ghost rule beside you?"

Logan's eyes glinted. "No. I mean someone new."

They circled him like wolves around a fresh kill.

Mira narrowed her eyes. "Who?"

"That's none of your concern."

Corran leaned forward. "It is when your choice weakens the pack. Rumors say she's not even one of us."

"Rumors are for cowards."

Varik growled. "So it's true. She's not a wolf."

Logan stepped forward, towering over the table. "She is mine. That's all that matters."

The Elders erupted.

"You endanger everything!"

"You gamble our bloodlines!"

"She's a threat!"

"She's an unknown!"

Logan's voice cut through them. "You're afraid of change. Afraid that power could come from beyond your little circle."

Corran: "We're afraid you're blinded by grief."

Logan: "Then keep fearing."

He turned and walked out as their voices followed, barking threats and warnings like rabid dogs. But he didn't flinch.

He reached his study again, slower this time. The scotch still burned on the table.

He poured another. Sat.

The door creaked.

But it wasn't Marcus.

It was her.

Selene.

She entered like she owned the shadows, hips swaying, lips painted in a shade of crimson that promised both pleasure and ruin. Her dress clung to her like second skin, black silk that whispered as she moved.

"So," she purred, "they turned on you."

Logan didn't look at her. "They bark. They don't bite."

She slid onto the edge of his desk, crossed one leg over the other. "You know... it wouldn't have to be this hard. If you just chose wisely."

He finally met her gaze. "You mean you."

She smiled like the devil. "I'm the only wise choice you have."

He took a sip. "That's the problem."

Selene leaned closer, voice like silk and venom. "You can't keep chasing ghosts. She's gone, Logan. And you? You're breaking. One thread at a time."

He stood. Too fast. The air in the room shifted.

Selene didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer.

"You always liked fire," she whispered.

"Fire burns."

"And you loved the heat."

They stared at each other.

She ran a hand along his chest, slow and deliberate. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

He grabbed her wrist.

"I don't want lies."

"Then take truth."

He released her.

"Leave, Selene."

She smiled. It wasn't sadness—it was strategy.

"You'll have to choose eventually, Logan. And when you do, make sure it's someone who can survive your world."

She walked slowly to the door. Her fingers trailed the wall, her hips swaying as if she knew he watched.

She paused at the frame, turning back slightly. "You don't have forever. Even alphas burn out."

Then she disappeared.

Logan stood motionless for a long moment.

Finally, he sat.

The fire danced across his eyes.

Then, the phone on his desk rang.

He stared at it.

He picked up.

"Yes?"

A soft voice.

"Hi."

Logan smiled, slow and dangerous.

"Are you ready to get married?"

Tessa hesitated. "No. I just... I just wanted the job."

"Don't worry," he said, already standing. "My assistant will be there in the morning."

He ended the call.

The fire cracked.

Logan looked into the flames.

"She thinks she has a choice," he whispered. "Sweet little flame."