The Nameless Luna – Book Three: For Her, He Falls

‘I suppose you think that what you did to me was also an act of mercy,’ I tell my uncle, coaxing the conversation out of him. ‘You turned me into your slave and let me think I was nothing!’
‘That’s exactly what you were. Nothing,’ he replies as we circle each other. ‘I should have rid the world of you the minute you were born. But I made a mistake. Vanessa gave birth to an abomination, but perhaps I could shape the mutt into something worthy. You were supposed to be Vanessa’s redemption, but instead, you were just a waste.’
Lies. Foul, disgusting lies. I realize at that moment that he didn’t spare my life out of mercy. He didn’t even do it because he’s above murdering a newborn babe. He wanted to use me. He hated the nightwalkers. He despised the fact that they were different and he was never able to defeat them.
All his disdain and disappointment toward me, it was never about me not manifesting a wolf… I was supposed to be his weapon, a way for him to wield the power of his enemies. I represent everything he hates and envies.
‘You never meant to raise me. You wanted to use me. Instead, you just abused me for being something you didn’t understand.’
Tristan is coming for me, but he’ll never make it across the bridge, and I certainly won’t last long enough to try and meet him halfway.
‘I treated you better than you deserved, you wretch. And look at you now. Wasted to die on the wrong side of history. You could have been my greatest warrior. I made you what you are. I made you strong, and this is how you repay me?’
Wrong. My father’s love and my mother’s choices are the reason I am here today. Lucy, Nico, Amara, and even Mark made me strong. So did Tristan’s patience and protectiveness, his courage and caring. Working in the garden, leaving the door to my room unlocked, washing away my pain, training in the villa… those are the things that shaped me.
‘No. You held me back. You beat me and starved and denied me any sense of self. But I know who I am now. Everything that I am is not because of you; it is in spite of you.’
He lets out a low warning growl, but I ignore it, glancing around at the wolves watching us. Some of them are Banes, and I recognize their faces as they avert their eyes, showing me no pity. Others are foreign to me, presumably soldiers from the other packs that were swayed by Viktor’s ambition and hate.
‘But you’re right, uncle,’ I say, turning back to him. ‘Look at me now. I’m just the scared little girl you beat and locked in the basement, but you brought a whole army to come after me. You didn’t even trust your own pack to be enough, so you had to frighten and bully others into joining you. You couldn’t kill me when I was an infant. What makes you think you can do it now?’
To his credit, Viktor doesn’t come at me then and there. He’s not used to this side of me, and he senses the bait dangling between my words. But as his eyes take in the warriors that surround us, I know I have him. He must kill me himself unless he wants the world to see him for the coward that he truly is.
Just the two of us.
‘Have it your way, mutt. But don’t fret; once I’ve personally disposed of you, I’ll send your parents to join you in the afterlife.’
I try to conceal the triumph on my face when the wolves around us back off, clearing a circle around me as they make room for their leader to prove himself. At least this way, I get to face him one-on-one. At least this way, the odds aren’t so horribly stacked against me. At least this way…
This way, I still have to kill him.
Viktor approaches me, his eyes blazing with fury. I know that he is a seasoned fighter. He didn’t just control the banes with schemes and lies. He’s massive and muscled and utterly merciless.
Once, during a pack meeting, one of the older men questioned Viktor on whatever they were discussing at the time. I don’t know what it was. I was never privy to anything of consequence, but I knew the man must have crossed him publicly because, after the meeting, Viktor called him back into the pack house. I had to stand to the side and watch in silence as Viktor broke his leg with such brutality I knew even the magic of werewolf healing would never be enough to repair the damage. I’d been forced to clean up the bloody stain on the floor where the man’s bones had torn through his skin.
So… fighting him may not have been my finest idea.
But it’s too late now. He was going to kill me either way, whether he ordered his soldiers to do it or ripped me apart himself. If I’m going to die, then I’m going to make him work for it.
Let the Banes see their Alpha get his hands dirty for a change.
I circle him warily, my eyes never leaving his. He snarls, baring his teeth in a show of dominance, but I refuse to back down. He’ll expect me to watch him, to wait and defend myself once he attacks first. But the memory of my mate’s words echoes in my head:
I am petals and poison, and a flower cannot fail.
I lunge.
Viktor dodges me, but he’s too slow. He wasn’t prepared for me to make the first move, and my claws tear at the flesh on his shoulder.
My training kicks in as muscles go taut and my mind races. But Amara showed me how to fight in human form. I hadn’t manifested my wolf when she taught me to defend herself. All the moves and strategies flash behind my eyes, trying to convert them into a different body, but I don’t have the time to think before I act.
Viktor retaliates, his jaws snapping shut just inches from my throat. I leap to the side, narrowly avoiding his attack, but he is quick to recover this time. The initial shock has worn off, and his eyes narrow on me with deadly precision.
Amara’s lessons weren’t just about technique. It’s instinct. I have to use my momentum with intention. When I can’t use my fists, use my head. Be smarter and faster.
Viktor spins around and comes at me again, his teeth flashing in the daylight. It’s too bright out. It feels like it should be dark. There should be smoke or thunder or some sign that the world as I know it is coming to an end.
But today is not about me.
I remember Amara’s agonized howl on the other side of the gate. Mark’s bloody features and the pain behind his hardened gaze when I saw him in the keep. Nico’s shaky voice, breathless and ragged with fear and exhaustion. The way Lucy smiled in spite of her fear and regret before the battle began. Helena abandoning her healing robes for battle armor. Vicious gashes across my father’s chest, just over his heart, bleeding before he vanished from the bridge. My mother, hanging dirty, bruised, and unconscious in his arms. The carnage I flew over on my way here, nightwalkers, Banes, and Rovers alike, their bodies wracked with pain as their wounds bleed out onto the battlefield. The look on Triststan’s face before I flew off, and the certainty that even now he is fighting his way toward me.
I was the daughter of moonlight and monsters, born of bane and betrayal. I am a child of starlight and shadow, covered in the scars of a survivor. I will be the avenger of the innocent.
This is no time to pace myself.
I leap toward Viktor again, and I tackle him, but my teeth clamp on empty air, the force of it rattling in my skull. He dodges my bite as I grapple him. Viktor knocks me to the ground, pinning me down with his massive paw. I writhe against him. We’re locked in a fierce struggle, dodging and striking, biting and bleeding. He has me trapped, and I can feel the weight of his body pressing down on me.
I am a feather fighting a brick. I do not bend or break.
With a burst of strength, I shove him back, my claws slicing across his underside, shredding through fur and skin and the warmth underneath. I roll over him, pinning him down just as he had done to me.
I can kill him. I should kill him after everything he’s done. I should make him pay. I should bite out his heart. I’m going to-
My murderous thoughts are silenced by a familiar scent, and it shakes me out of the violent trance. I let my senses unfocus, yanking my tunnel vision away from Viktor long enough to detect a commotion to my left, beyond the wolves surrounding us. When I turn to look, the sight sucks the air out of my lungs.
Tristan is covered in blood. He struggles against four warriors at once, limping through the fight. He battled his way through the bridge, almost all the way across.
But there’s no more fight left in him.