The Alpha's Stolen Luna-Chapter 112: See, Asshole?

Camilla

She failed.

I know she did—because it’s been three days, and the door to her room hasn’t opened even once.

I want to know what went wrong. She’s not an idiot, but her lack of strength... that’s what worries me most. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Was she tortured in there? Did the pain finally break her? What in the world are they doing to her in that lab?

It unsettles me that I care at all. Yet ever since he brought her here... I’ve felt something I haven’t in years.

Hope.

There’s a glow about her now—subtle, almost inconceivable, but impossible to ignore.

What exactly was I hoping she could do?

I scowl as irritation claws under my skin, making my insides itch like fire ants crawling through my veins. With a shuddering sigh, I jam two fingers down my throat and gag, eyes watering as bile and acid burn the back of my tongue.

It all comes out, like it always does. But every time I purge that poison, I feel like I’m losing something of myself, piece by piece.

The coughing fades into ragged panting. My body slumps against the toilet rim, limp and drained, while my long, wet hair clings to my face and shoulders, spreading around me like rotting seaweed.

I want to faint. To disappear into unconsciousness for years and let my body mend itself. I want to heal from the bitterness of my existence. To heal from the wounds carved by surrender. To heal from the emptiness I invited into my soul the moment I said yes to him. To them.

How much longer will this take?

As I wallow in the rancid waters of self-pity, a sudden, brutal blow smashes my head against the cold rim of the toilet. The impact sends me sprawling to the side, my vision and thoughts collapsing into a jagged blur of everything and nothing at once.

Clutching my skull with both hands, I gasp as waves of pain throb through my brain, ringing like a relentless bell. But I don’t need clarity to know who struck me.

"Fucking bitch."

Damien towers above me, his dark eyes boring into my bones. The veins in his neck bulge, his jaw clenches with fury, and his fists are so tightly coiled that his knuckles look ready to split through his skin. Yet I know he won’t follow through—not yet.

Because that’s his favorite game. One blow, just enough to remind me who holds the power.

"Did you really think this pathetic little trick would work?" he snarls, crouching in front of me so I’m forced to look into his blazing arrogance. "I consider myself a benevolent man. I tried to be generous with you. I even let you go outside. I let you speak to her. And what do I get in return?"

He leans closer, his breath reaching the skin on my face in scorching blows. "I liked you because you seemed nothing like your idiot father, but I guess you still managed to fool me in the end. Greed. You’re filled with greed, even though you know damn well that you deserve absolutely nothing."

"Fuck you." I spit back, fighting so fucking hard to keep myself from crumbling. "What did you do to her?"

"Why?" Damien grins, reaching his hand toward me to grab my hair and pull me to the bed. "Do you even care about what I did to her?"

He doesn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he crushes me beneath the weight of his body, his hands locking my wrists above my head. His chest rises and falls against mine, each breath ragged with the effort it takes to restrain himself from hurting me right away.

"I wonder why you did that to her," he whispers, his voice dragging like a blade over stone. "Jealousy? Revenge? I thought your hatred would fade once you saw her suffering the same way you did. But I suppose I was a fool to expect anything noble from the Theon bloodline. I could have killed her, you know." He leans closer, his dark eyes drilling into my soul. "Was that why you told her to do it?"

I don’t know what cuts deeper—the way he reduces me to the bitch he once forced me to become, or the crushing pain still radiating from my skull.

But it’s overwhelming me. Agony and rage boil together inside me, searing through my nerves, choking my veins with fire.

My wolf still won’t come forward—but I can. And I do.

With the last shreds of strength I have, I thrust my head forward, smashing my skull against his. The sharp crack sends a jolt of pain down my spine, but I don’t care.

"See, asshole?" I pant, breathless but glorious. "I like to use my power too. And if I wanted Kaya dead, I would have killed her myself!"

It works. Damien reels back from the impact, his grip on my wrists breaking. I don’t hesitate. My hand shoots into the pocket of my wool pants, closing around the chess queen. With a desperate surge, I slam it into his left temple, the sharp crown driving deep into his skin with vicious precision.

"Urgh!" Damien roars in pain, slapping a hand against his temple as blood gushes through his fingers. His glare is murderous, feral. "I’m going to fucking kill you!"

His pupils shrink into narrow, black slits, fangs pushing past his lips, and I know he means it—this is no empty threat. Yet, somehow, fear refuses to take root inside me.

"Kill me," I spit back, my knuckles white as I tighten my grip around the queen. "Shift. Attack. Tear me apart. That’s what you men love to do, isn’t it?"

But fate is crueler than death. Before I can savor even a moment of defiance, five guards storm into the room. Their rough hands seize me at once, slamming me face-down against the icy floor. A needle bites into the back of my neck, sharp and merciless, and within seconds the fire in my veins gutters out. My body goes slack, my thoughts unravel. I am floating again—weightless, senseless, obedient.

No more rage.

No more power.

I wish he would just fucking kill me.

Just my luck.