Power Of The Tuna
Power Of The Luna
~Lyra
Damon leaned forward now, resting both hands on the edge of the blood splattered table, and looked them dead in the eye.
“The rogue problem,” he said, as if the past fifteen minutes of chaos hadn’t happened. “You’ve all been ignoring it. Hoping it would fade. Hoping the weaker packs would get slaughtered before the rogues made it to your doorstep.”
He scanned their faces. Not a flinch. Not a blink. Cowards.
He looked around the table, his gaze slicing through every old man like a blade.
“You think they’re just angry exiles with no plan? Wrong. They’re building something. And from the way your border packs are going quiet? I’d say they’re almost ready.”
Some of the men stiffened. I could feel it–panic trying to rise in their throats like bile, but too afraid to come out. No one wanted to admit what we all knew. They’d ignored it. They’d ignored the signs. The missing scouts. The torn patrol gear.
The howls that sounded too human in the woods at night. The stench of blood from abandoned dens. The
burned messages scratched into trees.
But I knew.
And I don’t mean I guessed. I don’t mean I heard some rumors and pieced it together. I mean I knew. Because
I had seen the patterns.
Because when you grow up at the bottom–Omega, girl, marked as pretty but not powerful–you learn how to
listen. You learn how to see what no one else sees because they’re too busy thinking you’re just a set of t**s
in a tight shirt.
So I leaned forward. Still sitting in the dead man’s chair. Still covered in Damon’s scent. Still wet between my
legs and tingling from adrenaline. I leaned forward and spoke.
“Do any of you know how many disappearances were reported last month in the southern crescent?”
They turned to look at me like I had grown another head. Like I wasn’t supposed to speak. Like I wasn’t
supposed to know anything. But I didn’t wait for permission. I wasn’t that kind of Luna.
“Eleven,” I said. “Three border patrols. Two messengers. One Beta. And five girls. All Omegas. None found.”
Damon’s head turned toward me slowly. He was listening. Really listening now.
I didn’t stop.
か
“Most of those reports never made it here. They were buried. Blamed on rogue animals. Dismissed as
elopements. But they weren’t. They were taken. Lured. By someone who knew the patrol schedules. By someone who knew where to find the girls who wouldn’t be missed right away.”
One of the elders opened his mouth to he swallowed his tongue.
errupt me, but Damon raised a hand and he shut up so fast I swear
Power Of The Lums.
I kept going. My voice was steady. Loud. Clear, Not just loud for a girl. Not just brave for an Omère Because I had their attention now. And f**k, it felt good.
“The rogues are building a pack,” I said, standing now. “Not a gang. Not a rebellion. A pack. They’re taking Omegas to breed with.
“They’re converting weak Alphas with promises of freedom and power. They’re attacking the small ones first -packs on the edge of the map.
I saw Damon’s eyes darken. Not with rage. With something else. Something hotter. Sharper Respect Surprise.
“They’re not stupid,” I said. “They’re strategic. They’re watching. They’re infiltrating the mail routes. They’re targeting messengers. If we don’t change course now, they’ll have numbers strong enough to come after us directly. And when they do, they won’t just take the Omegas. They’ll take everything.”
And the entire room was staring at me.
Even Damon.
No–especially Damon.
He was staring like he didn’t know whether to f**k me or crown me.
“Where did you learn that from, kitten?”
His voice was rough. Deep. Just slightly frayed at the edges like his restraint was slipping.
I looked up at him slowly, still seated in that blood–soaked council chair like it was my birthright, and his eyes
were on me–not the men, not the mess, not the body on the floor–me, like I’d just ripped my shirt open and
moaned his name in front of everyone.
“f**k,” he muttered, low and thick like it punched straight through his chest. “That turned me on so f*****g
good.
“I love watching you dominate. I love it when you take control like that. When you talk in a room full of wolves
and make them sit like obedient little dogs. s**t, kitten, keep going. Don’t stop now.”
I smirked.
And not the shy kind of smirk. Not the girlish, oops–l–didn’t–mean–to–cause–a–stir kind of smirk.
No. I smirked like a b***h who knew exactly what the f**k she was doing.
Like I’d just bent the whole room to my voice and my mouth and my mind, and now the scariest Alpha alive was getting turned on watching me rip the floor out from under his enemies with nothing but facts and fury.
I leaned back in the chair. Legs crossed. Arms resting lightly on the armrests like a queen on her throne,
blood still staining the corner of the wood beneath me.
“I read,” I said casually, loud enough for all of them to hear. “I listen. I ask questions.
Damon groaned softly under his breath, and I felt it. Felt the way it wasn’t just admiration anymore–it was hunger. A different kind of tension building under his skin. Lust mixed with reverence. Filthy awe. Respect wrapped in a snarl.
“You’re gonna f*****g kill me one day,” he muttered, and I laughed–soft, dangerous, unapologetic.
< Power Of The Luna
“Only if you piss me off.”
I turned my eyes back to the council.
“The rogues aren’t just growing. They’re preparing. They’re smart. They’re fast. And they’re angry. They know we’ve underestimated them. They know you’re old and slow and stuck in tradition. That’s why they’re taking Omegas–they know your weak spot. They know what makes you panic.”
One man coughed. Another cleared his throat. One finally looked ashamed.
“They’re going after your legacies,” I said. “Your daughters. Your future breeders. They’re turning your bloodline into weapons. And if we don’t stop them now, they’ll make a pack bigger and darker than anything we’ve seen in our history. And this council?” I scoffed. “This council won’t survive it.”
I looked up at Damon again, and this time I saw it–pure f*****g pride shining in his eyes like moonlight on a
blade.
“So yeah,” I said, licking my bottom lip slowly. “I know a few things.”
He leaned in behind me, low, close, one hand resting on the back of my chair like he wanted to cage me in
front of them and mark me all over again.
“Say one more thing, kitten,” he whispered again, this time slower, hotter, with just enough threat laced in to
make my p***y flutter.
.“Just one more word and I swear I’ll lose it. Say something smart. Say something slick. f**k–say anything at all and I’ll f**k you in this chair until the floor floods with your heat and these cowards finally learn what it
means to kneel to a Luna.”
I tilted my head back just slightly, enough to see his shadow hovering behind me, his jaw sharp, his eyes locked on the curve of my smirk like it was the only goddamn thing in the room.
So I did what I do best.
I talked.
“Well, since you’re begging…” I purred, dragging my nails across the armrest, slow and teasing, like I didn’t give a single f**k that there was a dead man at my feet and twelve terrified Alphas holding their breath across from me. “Here’s what you all need to hear from your Luna”
I stood again.
“You old folks are scared of rogues,” I said, voice sharp now. “But do you know what scares me more?
Stupidity.”
They blinked.
I kept going.
“Rogues are predators. But you-” I pointed around the table- “you’re the reason they have a chance. You made your packs weak.
“You raised sons who inherit power without earning it. You trained warriors to follow orders instead of think. You ignored the Omegas, silenced the seers, mocked the witches, and now you’re surprised the balance is
off.”
One of the men shifted in his chair like my words were physically burning him.
Power Of The Luna
Good.
“Rogues didn’t create this chaos. You did. By pretending that strength only comes in one form. You made the cracks they’re crawling through. And while you were too busy jerking off to war stories, they built a f*****g
army.”
Damon’s breathing behind me was getting heavier. Darker. His presence felt like a thundercloud about to snap open and ruin the earth.
“You want to win this war?” I snapped, slamming my hand on the table so hard the wood echoed. “Then stop playing politics and start listening to the ones you thought were too soft to matter.”
I looked at Damon. Straight in the eyes. My body still pulsing. My voice still trembling with everything I’d said.
“Because I’d rather bleed beside an Alpha who protects me like a storm than sit silently in the shadow of men who don’t even deserve the title.”
And that?
That was the moment he lost it.
He growled. Growled–deep and loud and animal. The sound of a man who had held himself back for too
long.
“f**k,” he hissed, grabbing my waist from behind and pulling me flush against him, his grip punishing. “I told you what would happen.”
His breath hit my neck, hot and fast, and I swear I moaned–just a little, just enough to make every single one of those pathetic, silent Alphas look away in shame.
“You open
half.”
that filthy mouth one more time and I swear, kitten, I’m going to f**k you so hard this table splits in
I didn’t look away. I didn’t shrink.
I just whispered back, “Then what the f**k are you waiting for?”
That’s what I said. Out loud. With my full chest. With his blood still drying on my skin and every nerve in my body still humming from the way he growled in my ear.
I knew what I was doing. I f*****g knew. My voice wasn’t trembling. My legs were, maybe a little. But not my voice. That came out hard and wet and reckless, the way only a c**k–dumb, freshly–ruined, adrenaline–drunk Omega can sound when she’s toeing the line between power and punishment.
Damon didn’t laugh. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t tease me back with a dirty little wink like he sometimes did when I got mouthy.
He snapped.
He turned around so fast his coat flared behind him like a whip of smoke and ash, and then he said it. Loud.
Low. Final.
“Everyone out. Now!”
