Moonlight Betrayal-Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Kaeleen’s POV

The sound of her laughter, rich and genuine, was a melody I was fast becoming addicted to. It echoed in the quiet space of the studio, chasing away any lingering shadows. We sat there on the worn sofa, the empty pizza box a casualty of our shared meal, the atmosphere light and buzzing with a new kind of energy. Her agreeing to come to the gala felt like a bigger victory than the completion of the Phoenix itself.

"I’ll love that," I said, still smiling at her playful boast about stealing the show. "The world should see you. All of you."

My words hung in the air for a moment, and her playful expression softened into something more thoughtful. She leaned back against the sofa, her eyes, clear and direct, fixed on mine.

"About that," she began, her voice losing its earlier lightness and taking on a serious, measured tone. "If I’m going to be standing by your side at an event like that... if I’m going to be the Luna of this pack in public... there’s something I need."

I leaned forward, my full attention on her. "Anything. You just have to ask."

"A dress." She said to me as she wiggled her brows making me laugh again.

"Which you will get. You don’t even need to ask for it." I replied with a smile on my face. "But that’s not what you want to ask right?"

She took a deep breath, and I could see her gathering her courage, not out of fear, but as if preparing to lift something heavy. "I want to fight again. I want to remember how. And I want you to teach me."

The words hit me with the force of a physical shock. I stared at her, my mind struggling to connect the woman in front of me, the artist, the gentle soul who was just learning to laugh again with the harsh reality of fighting.

"Fight... again?" I asked, my voice low. "Astrid, what do you mean again? Do you know how to fight?"

She gave a single, firm nod. Her gaze didn’t waver. This wasn’t a whim. This was a calculated decision.

"I need you to understand a part of my past," she said, her voice quiet but strong. "A part I haven’t talked about. After I left my father’s pack, before I met Leon, I was alone for a long time. I was a rogue, and I was hunted. I had to learn to survive."

I listened, my body going still, every protective instinct I possessed roaring to life. I wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn’t have to relive it, but the look on her face told me she needed to say this as much as I needed to hear it.

"I found a group," she continued, her eyes distant for a moment, lost in the memory. "They were organized. More than just rogues. They were assassins. They took me in, and they taught me. How to move without making a sound, how to use blades, how to make myself invisible in a crowd. How to turn my body into a weapon."

Assassins. The word was a venomous snake striking in the quiet of the studio. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The thought of her, young and alone, falling into a nest of killers made a hot, violent rage surge through me. Ryker snarled in my mind, a furious, guttural sound of pure fury. He wanted to hunt them down, to tear them apart for ever laying a hand on her. It took every ounce of my control to keep my own features neutral, to not let the storm raging inside me show on my face.

"In return for the training, I did jobs for them," she said, pulling me back from the edge. "Retrieving things, spying. Never killing," she added quickly, meeting my eyes, and I knew with absolute certainty that she was telling the truth. "I learned what I needed to learn. I got strong."

"Why did you leave them?" I asked, my voice tight.

She shrugged, a gesture that seemed too casual for the weight of her story. "I found Leon."

The answer was too simple. It felt incomplete, a curtain drawn over a darker truth. I could feel it, a subtle shift in her energy, a flicker of something guarded in her eyes.

Ryker sensed it too. ’She lies,’ he growled in my head. ’Not a full lie, but a shadow of one. There is more she is not saying.’

He was right. But I looked at her face, at the trust she was placing in me by telling me this much, and I made a choice. I wouldn’t push. I wouldn’t demand the parts of her story she wasn’t ready to give. The fact that she was sharing this at all was a monumental step. Her secrets were hers to reveal in her own time. My job was to make her feel safe enough to do so.

I let out a slow breath, consciously unclenching my fists. "Astrid..." I started, not even sure what I was going to say. That I was sorry she went through that? That I was proud of her for surviving? That I wanted to burn the world down for ever hurting her? All of it was true.

She held up a hand, stopping me. "I’m not telling you this for you to feel sorry for me, Kaeleen. I’m telling you because that person, that fighter, is still a part of me. And I’ve kept her locked away for too long. I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of feeling weak. I want that strength back. I need it."

Her eyes blazed with a fire I had never seen before. It was the fire of a survivor, a warrior. At that moment, she was the most beautiful, formidable woman I had ever seen. My awe for her, my respect, eclipsed even the rage I felt on her behalf.

"I understand," I said, my voice filled with a sincerity that came from the depths of my soul.

"So, will you teach me?" she asked, her gaze unwavering. It wasn’t a plea. It was a challenge.

The idea of it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Training her would mean pushing her. It would mean seeing her in pain, exhausted, and frustrated. But it would also mean being close to her, trusting her with her own strength, and watching her transform into the powerful Luna she was always meant to be. Shadow was right. If anyone was going to do this, it had to be me. I would ensure she was safe. I would know her limits. I would forge her strength without breaking her spirit.

A slow smile touched my lips. "Alright, Astrid. I’ll teach you."

A wave of relief washed over her features, so profound that she seemed to sag slightly against the sofa cushions. The fiery warrior softened, and the woman I knew returned, her eyes shining with gratitude.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don’t thank me yet," I said, my tone shifting into that of an Alpha and a trainer. "My training is not easy. I will expect you to give me everything you have. No holding back."

"I wouldn’t want it any other way," she replied, her chin lifting with renewed determination.

"Good." I stood up, the decision made. The light, playful mood of the evening had transformed into something far more intense, a shared purpose that bound us together in a new and powerful way. "The training grounds. Tomorrow morning at sunrise. Wear something you can move in, and be prepared to sweat."

She stood up as well, facing me. The height difference between us was significant, but for the first time, she seemed to fill the space, meeting my gaze as an equal. "I’ll be there."

I gave her a single, sharp nod, then turned and left the studio without another word. The conversation was over. The agreement was sealed. As I walked back toward the main house under the moonlit sky, the scent of her on my clothes, my mind raced. I had just agreed to help her unearth a part of her past that was steeped in violence and survival. It was a dangerous path, but it was her path. And I would walk it with her, every step of the way.

—---------------------------------------

The next morning, the sky was just beginning to bleed from inky black to a soft, bruised purple as I made my way to the training grounds. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. A few pack warriors were already there, going through their morning drills, their movements fluid and practiced. They nodded respectfully as I passed, their eyes curious but unquestioning.

I stood in the center of the main sparring ring, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck, the anticipation, a low hum under my skin. I didn’t know what to expect. The fighter she had been was a product of a desperate and brutal environment. I didn’t know how much of that training remained, buried under years of trauma and fear.

I watched the entrance to the grounds, my senses on high alert, waiting for her.

Ryker was awake and watchful. ’She will come,’ he stated with confidence.

Just as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon, painting the edges of the clouds in fiery gold, she appeared.

She stopped at the edge of the sparring ring, and for a moment, I just looked at her. She had followed my instructions perfectly. She wore simple black leggings that fit her like a second skin and a gray, form-fitting athletic top. Her hair was pulled back in a tight, practical braid that fell down her back. Her feet were bare, her toes gripping the soft dirt of the training grounds.

There was no trace of the shy, hesitant girl I had first met. There was no fear in her eyes. Instead, they were clear, focused, and filled with a quiet, unshakeable determination. She looked like a warrior readying for battle.

She met my gaze from across the ring, a silent question in her eyes.

I gave her a slow, approving nod.

"You came," I said, my voice carrying easily in the quiet morning air.

A small, confident smile touched her lips. "I said I would."

"Good," I replied, settling into a ready stance. "Let’s begin."

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