Episode 6

☾☾SASKIA☽☽

Their vibrant chatter grows in volume as they near the community house. Laughter punctuates the air, blaring cackling sounds that make me wish for a similar, genuine camaraderie. It stops once they sense I’m near. The loud noise tapers off into low whispers as they come into view.

“Thank you all for coming!” I greet cheerfully, pushing past the entrance I’ve been waiting at. It’s imperative that I welcome them warmly. For my plans to work, I need them to see me as a harmless Luna who cares for her people. I want them to know I have nothing but what I’ve been given. I need them to give me more. To offer me their love and devotion even if they hadn’t planned on it before.

“Luna!” A voice exclaims though it sounds more like a gasp than the former. I identify it as Aretha’s, and I’m particularly pleased she’s here. It’s been too long since I last saw her. I suspect it’s Cillian’s work.

He’s been obsessed with isolating me from those I previously had good relationships with. Aretha and Penelope have been assigned to matters of the pack that ‘demand utmost attention and the most delicate of hands.’ Yet, I’ve not understood what these duties entail for them. Neither have I apprehended those allocated to Makwa or Wade. All I know is I never catch a sliver of their likeness anymore. It makes me want to gun Cillian in the head and leave a gaping hole for the world to see.

“By the goddess!” Penelope also is here. I could always tell by how she refuses to let go of her s consonants, dragging them longer than others would. She pushes through the cluster of women who have clustered around me. “What happened, Luna?”

I skirt around her question, grasping her hand instead. “Penelope! Oh, it’s great to see you. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. You’ve been so busy; it’s made me sad, Penn.”

Thrown off balance by my enthused state, she grins bashfully. “I’m sorry, my Luna. Me and a few other werewolves—Aretha, most especially—have been occupied with the task of implementing the new changes the Alpha has asked for. But forget that, please, Luna. What happened to you? Why do you sport this awful of a bruise? I’m beyond appalled by the wound on your face.”

The gathering is silent as they await my answer. I have to play my cards right. I can’t risk not saying the right thing. As such, I must buy more time. “It’s no big deal. I am happy to see you all here.” I radiate happiness like I don’t have a single trouble in the world. “I’m glad you’re here, Aretha.” I draw out the only other female I know to be on my side. While I’m thrilled to see her, this is also to show the other women how I treat those I consider my friends.

“As always, thank you for your benevolence, Luna.” Aretha is humble as ever.

I laugh airily. “You all must stop calling me Luna, please. I am not married to the Alpha of this pack. My husband is dead.” The ambience stills with my declaration. I force myself not to swallow, to not acknowledge that each time I state those words, it’s like a stake is driven through my heart. I don’t know when this wound will start to heal. I can only hope it will.

“But you will marry Alpha Cillian, will you not?” The oldest woman with greying hair and a sharply pointed nose filches my attention. Elder Yardley’s wife, Joan.

My smile is wane, but not without a hint of slyness. She’s shot the ball into my court. How should I volley back? “I believe the more appropriate question is, will he marry me? Of recent, the Alpha’s favour towards me seems to be on the decline. I’m not sure how to regain it anymore.”

From the corner of my eye, I register Aretha’s silence. She clenches and unclenches her jaw. It’s no surprise that she cuts in immediately after. “It seems the Alpha is doling out the rotten fruits of his anger instead of his favour.”

All four women present turn to stare at Aretha. Only Penn has the same enraged expression she wears. “What do you mean by that?” Joan demands in an irritated tone. I can’t tell if she’s cross or not. Her brows are forever in a knot as if she is permanently angry. I’m not sure I can judge her persona or current mood based on her tendency to scowl at the world.

“Are you blind!” She snaps, all respect for the first elder’s wife forgotten in a blink. “Do you not see the distasteful discolouration around her eye? Does it escape you the amount of hurt she must have bore for such a mark to appear this vividly?”

Joan’s eye twitches as she accesses me, then Aretha and me again. “You assume that it’s the Alpha who did that to her?”

Aretha sneers fiercely, her features twisting painfully, but Penelope beats her to the punch. “What sort of question is that? Who else could have done that? Who else could have lain a hand on the Luna without fear of what the Alpha would do if not the Alpha himself?”

Joan appears confused. “Why would he do that? Why would the Alpha hurt the woman he claims to cherish, knowing she is human and cannot heal?” She frowns even more earnestly, her forehead puckering into a mass of wrinkled, angered flesh. “Perhaps, he wasn’t in control of himself. By any chance, Luna, did you discern a change in his demeanour or the colour of his eyes? Might his wolf have taken over?”

“Hmm,” I pretend to think when I know the real answer. Cillian does not need his wolf’s interplay to do the things he does. Neither does he need his wolf’s presence to hurt me the way he enjoys. “Not to my understanding. He was perfectly in control of himself... I did not witness the colour of his eyes shift into gold at any point.”

In fact, I’ve never seen his wolf ascend like Mikael’s usually did. I might have suspected he was a vampire if I didn’t know he and Mikael were brothers. It certainly doesn’t help that I’d found him carousing amid the living dead when we first met on my eighteenth birthday. When he’d claimed me before my pack.