The Alpha’s Fall, the Luna’s Rise

Lucielle’s POV

“Confess to your crime, or watch your mongrel pup die!”

The threat struck like silver through my spine. I froze at the open hatch of the private skycraft, the night wind howling as moonlight spilled into the cabin. My heart slammed wildly against my ribs.

There she was—Althea.

My little pup.

Theros held her effortlessly in one arm, his grip cruelly steady. Her small chest fluttered in shallow, frantic breaths. The moonstone respirator that kept her heart stable—gone.

Her lips were turning dusky blue. Her tiny fingers twitched, clawing weakly at the air, as if trying to draw breath from the sky itself.

“No, no, Theros, please!” My voice broke. “She needs the oxygen. You know she can’t breathe without it!”

He stood only steps from the open hatch, composed and distant—like hanging a six-year-old above a predator-filled chasm meant nothing to him.

“Nine minutes,” he said calmly.

I collapsed to my knees. The runes etched into the skycraft floor burned cold beneath my palms as I looked up at him—at the Alpha who once held me like I was something sacred.

Now his face was something cold and unyielding, not even a trace of mercy.

He once promised me everything.

Now he promised to tear my heart out of it.

“Theros … I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I sobbed.

“You caught Nyxara!” he roared, his Alpha aura slamming into me like a physical blow.

Her name sliced deeper than claws.

Sure. It was always her.

Nyxara—the she-wolf who crept into his den and his heart. His mate in betrayal, his fixation — the venom crept into my den.

“I didn’t.” I whispered. “I swear, I didn’t touch her.”

A cold smile curved his lips, freezing my blood.

“Eight minutes. Hurry and tell me where Nyxara is.”

“She’s your blood too!” I snarled, desperation burning through my chest. “She carries your lineage!”

He laughed then—short, mocking—as though my words meant nothing.

“She is not mine,” he said, venom dripping from every word. “I have the blood-rite proof. What a slut, you spread your legs to any male wolves, you don’t even know which wolf gave you the seed.”

My gaze snapped back to Althea.

Her lips darkened. Her chest faltered with every shallow breath. Her legs moved weakly. Her small hand reached for the moonstone respirator swinging in his other hand.

I sank lower—down to my knees, my forehead hovering near the floor and my voice trembling like a wounded howl.

“I have no idea where Nyxara is.” I cried. “Please, please, save my pup.”

Theros, then, stepped forward, seized my arm and wrenched me upright with brutal strength.

“You are pitiful and a terrible liar.” He snarled.

The slap came in no time.

My eyes burst into blurry. My left ear rang, then went numb.

“I have enough proof to have the pack law execute you.” He growled.

I lifted my gaze to him, my skin searing, my soul on the brink of tearing apart.

“You were the last one she sent a message to.” He continued coldly, “the moonrest-inn’s overseer crystal show someone in your cloak dragging her away. Her moon-bracelet, found near your chamber. Her blood, on the scarf in your wardrobe.”

He closed in until his presence loomed over me, his face only inches away.

“You left her a voice message, hours before she went missing.”

I shook my head hard, tears streaming down.

“I didn’t. I swear. I didn’t even see her…”

“Seven minutes.”

“Mommy .…” Althea whimpered.

Her voice shattered me.

She wore the pale pink dress he gifted her, back when he still called her “my little moon”.

“She’s not mine,” he muttered again, fury blackening his eyes.

“She bears none of my blood. Nyxara showed me the true proof — the one you switched. She’s a mongrel, just like her whore of a mother.”

I let out a fractured sob and collapsed, barely holding myself together.

It couldn’t be real.

***

I thought of the day surprising him with the skycraft passes for our bond-anniversary—to Pineridge Grove.

I planned to the last detail for two months. The moonrest-inn we once shared on our matingmoon, a private pack cook, a garden moonrest-inn facing Pineridge Peak.

He, however, never came.

I waited in that dress the whole night. Just then I called the skyline and they told me the skycraft passes had already been used.

He took Nyxara instead.

Then my thoughts shifted to Althea—two weeks later—standing before the door in her tiny dress, waiting. She was so excited. He had promised her to come.

He, however, never came.

I stayed with her that night wiping her tears away and holding mine.

Theros didn’t even call or send a message.

He spent day by day with her again.

He once loved me — no, no, he once only worshipped me.

When I was struck by a rogue wolf pack, he guarded by my healing den for two weeks straight.

The Alpha known for his cold and cruelty had once pleaded for my forgiveness — proposed, apologized in public, promised me the world.

For a year, he pursued me with a devotion as relentless as the hunt.

I resisted. I didn’t want the blood-soaked politics of Alpha rule. But he swore he would change, swore he would abandon the war councils.

He saved me once too — when rogues tried to drag me into the shadows beyond the city walls. Theros arrived in full wolf form and nearly tore them apart with his bare fangs.

I had no one growing up — no family, no roots. Then Theros ….

He became my whole world.

He gave me luxury, protection and love. Our mating ceremony was a fairytale — and when I carried his pup, he treated me as if I were made of fragile crystal.

When the pack’s healers diagnosed Althea with a weak heart, bound to rely on moonstone respirator, he wrapped us both in his arms and calmed our howls of fear.

“I will never allow harm to come to Althea,” he promised.

For a time, he honored those words.

Until Nyxara appeared.

She didn’t just tempt him into her den. She tore me apart, claw by claw.

She falsified the bloodline proof and convinced him Althea carried no trace of his blood.

She manipulated messages to frame me as a traitor feeding his rival pack, even falsified the records and accused me of causing the death of Theros’ younger brother.

And somehow … somehow he trusted her lies.

He didn’t sever our bond.

He didn’t, but chose to destroy me slowly.

The last bond-anniversary still lingered in my mind.

He gifted me a pearl-moon necklace. I believed it was an apology, I believed he had seen the truth in the end.

But as he put it around my neck, he pulled it until it broke my skin.

“You’ll repay every disgrace in blood, Lucielle.” He breathed against my ear. “You — and the bastard pup of yours.”

He cast me out into the cold that night, in blood and tears.

I curled against the cold floor when I heard Theros' and Nyxara's mating from the patio. He made sure I heard it all—every breath, every sound—each one a reminder that I was nothing.

The instinct of mine sensed it at the same time — Althea was suffocating inside. It was already too late.

She was rushed to the healer den, barely alive and forced to rely on moonstone respirator from then on.

He was too busy punishing me to realize our own pup was dying.

***

The crystal communicator rang through the cockpit like a warning howl.

One of his warriors took it and handed it, then Theros brought it to his ear.

His face went still. His grip on Althea tightened. His jaw hardened until his fangs pressed edge to edge.

Then his entire body shook.

“She’s been located, my Alpha.” The Delta reported through the link. “Locked in the trunk of Lucielle’s old moon-carriage. She nearly suffocated.”

Slowly, his eyes lifted—cold, deadly—and fixed on mine.

Pure, merciless rage filled his gaze.

“You locked her away in that trunk,” he said quietly, each word sharp as a blade, “You tried to end her life, so now I’ll simply return what you gave.”

“Theros, no, no! Please! I didn’t—”

He slammed the ramp shut.

“Disgusting liar!” He snarled, turning to his warriors. “Land the skycraft.”

The skycraft landed to the ground with a screech of wheels and a fear caught in my throat.

Theros never spared us a glance as he stepped past Althea’s shaking form.

He brought his shoe to crush the moonstone respirator, treating it as nothing—though it was the very thing keeping her alive.

He stepped onto the open tarmac, straight to the waiting carriage.

“I’m going to bring Nyxara back,” he said coldly, “Have an apology prepared for her when I get back.”

I reached Althea, holding her tight as I ran for my carriage.

My fingers trembled as I started the engine and drove straight for the healer den.

“Hold on, my little moon.” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the bluish tinge stealing over her lips.

I fumbled for my crystal communicator and called someone, with my hands shaking so badly, I nearly let it slip from my grip.

“Lucielle, tell me.” Came the concerned voice from the other end. “What’s wrong?”

“Grandpa … I need your help,” I replied, my voice barely holding together.

Six moons ago, I rescued a male-wolf on the brink of collapse along the moonlit high road.

He later tracked me down using the birth mark on my cheek and discovered the truth — I was his bloodline, his granddaughter.

He demanded I come back to the pack and claim my legacy, but I said no.

Theros, at that time, wasn't this cruel. He was still with Nyxara, though he swore she meant nothing—just a passing indulgence he would soon discard. Other Alphas kept mistresses. It was nothing unusual.

"You're my one and only mate.” He used to say again and again.

And I trusted his words like an idiot. Instead of returning to my grandfather’s territory, I asked him to strengthen my mate’s alliance.

But after today—after what Theros dared to do—I saw the truth, he wasn’t the Alpha I had the bond.

“Tell me,” my grandfather said calmly.

“I want our identities wiped.” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Mine and my daughter’s. No records. No traces. I’ll return and inherit the territories only on that condition.”

Silence followed. Then…

“Seven nights. It will be done within seven nights.”

I ended the call and lowered my gaze to my little pup beside me in the carriage. Her lips were pale. Her body fragile.

I brushed a kiss over her forehead and murmured into her hair. “Seven more nights, my little moon. Seven nights—and the darkness ends.”