The Scorned Luna-Chapter 38: Rather Die

Damien stood tall, his presence subduing the spirit of everyone on the field. Internally, his wolf was howling, clawing at his chest to go to her. Up to now, Damien couldn’t understand why his wolf loved Sofia this much.

"Go defend her," his wolf urged.

But Damien knew he couldn’t. He was surrounded by warriors who knew Sofia had betrayed their pack by killing her sister. If he showed even a slight hint of softness, his leadership would be questioned.

He forced his expression to turn into a deep frown. He looked at Kael, then flicked his gaze to Sofia.

"How dare you strike a warrior of this pack," Damien said, his voice loud with rage, carrying across the yard.

Sofia’s eyes widened, her heart sinking. "He touched me, Alpha Damien. He insulted me. I was just—"

"You are a servant!" Damien roared, cutting her off. He saw her flinch, and it felt like a dagger to his soul. "A servant does not raise a hand against a protector of the realm, regardless of the provocation."

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. He needed to give the pack a punishment that looked severe but wouldn’t break her—though the words he chose were meant to hurt him as much as her.

"Since you have so much energy to spare for fighting," Damien sneered, "you can spend it running. One hundred laps around the training yard. Now."

He paused, his eyes raking over her plus-size frame with a faked look of disgust that made his stomach churn. "Move, Sofia. Who knows? With enough laps, you might actually lose some of those pounds."

A roar of laughter erupted from the warriors. Kael spat on the ground, grinning through his bloodied lip. The insult was a direct hit to Sofia’s biggest insecurity—the body she had always worried Damien wouldn’t find attractive.

Sofia felt the blood drain from her face. The humiliation was worse than anything.

"Yes, Alpha," she whispered, her voice dead.

She turned and began to jog, her body screaming in pain.

Damien watched her go, his jaw so tight it felt like his teeth might crack. He hated himself. He wanted to kill every man laughing. He wanted to run to her and tell her that her body was perfect.

Instead, he turned to his men. "Back to work! If I see anyone standing idle, they’ll join her!"

As the sun rose higher, Sofia kept running. By lap thirty, her lungs were on fire. By lap fifty, her vision was swimming.

The physical pain in Sofia’s legs was nothing compared to the fire of hatred burning in her chest. Every time her feet hit the dirt, she heard the echoes of the warriors’ laughter. She heard Damien’s cruel voice mocking her weight.

She was done being a victim. If she was a traitor, she would act like one. If she was meant to die on this field, she wouldn’t go out like a dog.

As she rounded the far corner of the yard near the weapon racks, she saw a small, jagged silver dagger used for skinning. She didn’t slow down. In one fluid, desperate motion, she snatched it and hid it in the folds of her stiff uniform.

By lap seventy, her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She saw Damien standing with his back turned, deeply engaged in a conversation with his lead commander.

Sofia diverted her path. She stopped running in a circle and sprinted straight for him.

She reached Damien before he could fully turn. With a scream of pure, unadulterated rage, she drove the blade into his back, just below the shoulder blade.

Damien let out a guttural groan, his body stiffening as the silver bit into his flesh. The warriors around them froze in horror for a split second before the yard erupted into chaos.

"Traitor!" Kael roared, being the first to reach her. He swung a massive fist, catching Sofia across the jaw and sending her spinning into the dirt. As she tried to crawl away, another warrior raised his heavy boot to crush her ribs.

"STOP!"

Damien’s authoritative voice resounded through the yard.

He reached behind him, his fingers gripping the hilt of the dagger. With a hiss of pain, he ripped the silver out. Because it was silver, the wound didn’t heal instantly; it smoked and bled, the dark red liquid staining his leather vest.

He turned slowly, his eyes glowing a terrifying, murderous gold. The warriors stepped back, terrified.

Sofia lay in the dirt, her face bruised and blood dripping from her lip. She looked up at him, not with fear, but with a cold, hollow satisfaction. "Kill me then," she spat. "Finish what you started."

Damien stared at her, the knife trembling in his hand. His wolf was screaming—not in anger at her, but in agony that she hated him enough to kill him. He looked at the blade, then at the broken woman on the ground.

"Bring her," Damien commanded, his voice shaking with a rage so deep it felt like an earthquake.

Two warriors grabbed her and dragged her along behind Damien.

Reaching his chamber, he sat on the leather couch, his back seared with the agony of the silver wound, watching as she was thrown onto the floor at his feet.

"How dare you," Damien rasped, his voice full of anger. "You think you can strike your Alpha and walk away?"

He gestured to the four guards standing by the door—including Kael, who was wearing a sick, predatory grin. Damien’s heart was thundering. He just wanted to scare her. He wanted her to beg him for mercy.

"Each of them will have their way with you," Damien declared, the lie tasting like poison in his mouth. "Starting now."

The guards stepped forward, their eyes dark with excitement. Kael began unbuckling his belt, his gaze fixed on Sofia’s trembling form. "Finally," he muttered. "I’ve been waiting for this."

Damien watched, his hand clenching the armrest until the wood groaned. Plead, Sofia, he thought desperately. Ask me to save you. Just one word and I’ll send them away.

But Sofia didn’t plead. She looked at the men, then at Damien, and her eyes weren’t full of fear—they were full of terrifying hate for Damien. She noticed the bowl of fruit on the low table just a few feet away, a silver paring knife resting beside a half-peeled apple.

In a sudden, explosive burst of speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a human, Sofia lunged.

"Sofia!" Damien roared, lunging forward to grab her, but he was a second too late.

She didn’t go for the guards. She didn’t go for him. She snatched the knife, turned it toward her own neck, and with a jagged sob of defiance, sliced deep across her throat.

"I’d rather die than let them touch me!" she choked out.

Blood, bright and hot, sprayed across the expensive rug. Sofia’s body buckled, the knife clattering to the floor as she slumped over.

Damien let out a sound that wasn’t human—a raw, guttural howl of the soul. He shoved the guards aside with such force that Kael was sent flying across the room. He collapsed onto the floor, catching her before she hit the ground, his hands frantically trying to stop the torrent of blood pouring from her neck.

"No, no, no! Sofia!" he screamed.

"Get the healer! Now!" he yelled at the guards. His voice was shaking.

He pressed his large hands against her neck to try and stop the bleeding. He was shaking all over. He looked down at her with tears in his eyes.

"How could you do this?" he yelled, but he sounded more scared than angry. "How dare you!"

Sofia looked up at him. The pain was starting to fade, replaced by a deep sleepiness. She let out a soft, weak laugh. She saw the look on his face. He finally realized that he had pushed her too far. She had found the only way to get away from him.

"You... lost," she whispered.