The Luna He Buried

The first thing she saw was blood.

Thick.

Dark.

Still warm on her hands.

Selena stumbled backward in the dream, shaking violently as crimson dripped between her fingers. The entire manor around her burned beneath a silver moon. Wolves screamed somewhere in the distance.

“Run!”

A man’s voice.

Desperate.

Bleeding.

She turned sharply, but fire swallowed his face before she could see him clearly.

Bodies covered the marble floor.

Her family.

Her pack.

Dead.

“No—”

A hand grabbed her wrist.

She looked down.

Another hand.

Covered in blood.

Her blood.

Then someone whispered against her ear—

“They’re all dead because of you.”

Selena gasped awake with a scream.

She bolted upright in bed, chest heaving violently.

For several seconds, she couldn’t breathe.

Her fingers clawed at the sheets as panic flooded her body. Sweat soaked her nightdress. The scent of smoke still lingered in her nose even though the bedroom was silent and dark.

Then the bedroom door opened.

“Selena.”

A familiar male voice.

Calm. Deep. Gentle.

Her husband.

Damien Cross walked quickly toward the bed, concern already on his face. Moonlight from the hallway framed his tall figure.

“You’re shaking again.” He sat beside her immediately. “Another nightmare?”

Selena stared at him blankly.

For one terrible second, she saw blood on his hands too.

Then the image disappeared.

“I…” Her throat felt dry. “I saw people dying.”

Damien brushed damp hair away from her forehead. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Safe.

The word should have comforted her.

Instead, it made her stomach twist.

Damien reached toward the nightstand and picked up a small silver bottle.

“Here.” His tone softened. “Take your medicine.”

Selena froze slightly.

The pills again.

Every night.

Always after the nightmares.

“I took them earlier,” she lied weakly.

Damien’s expression didn’t change, but something cold flickered behind his eyes for half a second.

“You forgot.”

“I don’t think I need them tonight.”

“Selena.”

His voice dropped lower.

Not angry. Controlled.

“You know what the doctor said. If you stop taking them, the panic attacks will return.”

She swallowed hard.

Three years ago, Damien had found her injured near the border after a rogue attack. That was what everyone told her.

She had lost her memory.

Lost her past.

Lost almost everything except him.

Damien had taken care of her through all of it.

He became her husband.

The father of her child.

The person she trusted most.

So why did fear crawl down her spine every time she looked at those pills lately?

Damien opened his palm patiently.

“Take them.”

Selena hesitated.

Then finally took one.

The moment the pill touched her tongue, bitterness spread through her mouth.

Too bitter.

Like metal.

Damien handed her water.

“Good girl.”

Something about those words made her uncomfortable.

Before she could think further, small footsteps suddenly rushed into the room.

“Mom!”

A little boy launched himself onto the bed.

Selena almost cried from relief.

Ethan.

Her son.

His dark curls were messy from sleep as he climbed into her lap.