An Alpha's Forbidden Mate-Chapter 51: Missing Friend.

Chapter Fifty–One:

The silence that followed the revelation of the Hunter Association was heavy, thick with the unsaid secrets of a world Luna was only beginning to navigate. She looked down at Damien, his face a map of agony and false sincerity.

"How the hell are you still alive?" she repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I saw the light leave your eyes that night. I heard the crack of your bones. Dead men don’t just wake up and walk back into their senior year."

Damien’s hands trembled against the blood-stained tiles. "I swear... I don’t know!" he cried, his voice bordering on a sob. "One minute, the world was going dark. I was dying. The pain was—it was everything. And then, the next minute, I just woke up in a clean room. No injuries. No scars. No holes in my chest. Nothing. It was like the last hour of my life had been erased from my body."

Luna searched his eyes for the tell-tale flicker of a lie. She remembered the cryptic words of the guardians in the forest—references to "vessels" and "witches." If she kept torturing him for answers he truly didn’t possess, his heart might give out before she could extract the utility she needed from him.

I can’t lose him yet, she thought, her Silver Will receding slightly from the surface of her skin. If he’s telling the truth, his ’resurrection’ is a mystery even to him. But he’s a bridge. A bridge I need to cross.

"I believe you, Damien," Luna said, her voice suddenly softening into a tone that mimicked her old, gentle self.

Damien let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. She’s still as gullible as before, he thought, a spark of his old arrogance flickering behind his fearful mask. She might have gotten stronger, she might have claws and gold eyes, but she didn’t get any smarter. A little bit of ’I swear’ and she folds.

"Thank you, Luna... I mean, Raven," Damien stammered, trying to force his trembling lips into a grateful smile. "I’m telling you the truth. I’m just a pawn in all this."

"Oh, don’t thank me just yet," Luna replied, standing up and smoothing out the front of her leather jacket. "I believe you don’t know how you’re alive, but I still have a few more questions for you. And I’d hate for our ’friendship’ to be tested by another lie."

Damien’s face fell, his exhaustion and frustration finally bubbling over. "What else do you want to know? I’ve told you everything! I’ve betrayed the Association, I’ve given you names—what more is there?"

"Not everything," Luna said, pacing the small restroom like a wolf in a cage. "You’ve only answered the questions I’ve given you. I want to know about the local ecosystem. Specifically, do you know where I could find me some vampires?"

The question hung in the air like a foul odor. Damien blinked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "What do you want with vampires? They’re leeches. They’re bottom-feeders. Even the Association usually ignores the small hives unless they start a spree."

"I am the one asking the questions," Luna said, her eyes flashing gold once more. "And I won’t ask again. Where are they?"

Damien’s mind raced. What could she want with vampires? Wait... this could be an opportunity. If I send her to a nest, maybe they’ll do what the Hunters couldn’t. Or at least, it gets her away from me.

"You can find some... low-level ones. Blood hounds," Damien said, his voice gaining a bit of stability. "They frequent the Golden Empire."

Luna froze. "You mean the club?"

In her mind, the name echoed with a painful irony. Before the forest, before the death and the rebirth, she and Stephanie had spent hours in Stephanie’s bedroom, looking at the Golden Empire’s Instagram page. They had been planning to sneak out, to wear dresses they weren’t supposed to have, and to pretend to be adults in the most famous club in town. It was a girlhood dream that now felt like a relic from a different century.

"Yeah, the place is literally crawling with them," Damien continued, oblivious to her internal turmoil. "Low-level vampires who need a constant supply of human blood but aren’t strong enough to hunt properly. They hang out in the VIP lounges, picking off the drunks and the lonely ones."

"If the place is crawling with them," Luna asked, her voice turning sharp, "why hasn’t your Association taken any action? You claim to be ’humanity’s shield,’ yet you let a nest thrive in the heart of the city’s nightlife?"

Damien let out a dry, hacking laugh. "Our resources have been stretched thin, Raven. Between the werewolf sightings in the north and the political pressure from the Mayor’s office, we don’t have the personnel to invade a high-profile club. It’s bad for business. As long as they don’t kill too many ’important’ people, the Association looks the other way."

Luna stood tall, her eyes cold. She had the location. She had her target. "Thank you, Damien. You’ve been really helpful. More helpful than you realize."

"Happy to help," Damien forced a smile, his eyes trailing her every move. "Since we’re on the same side now... maybe we can help each other more often?"

"If I leave without returning the favor, I’d feel a little guilty," Luna said sarcastically.

"Oh, there’s no need!" Damien said, his smile widening, thinking he had successfully manipulated her. "After all, we’re friends, right? Old times’ sake."

"Yes," Luna said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she stood directly in front of him. "We are friends. That’s why I’m going to return the favor."

"Seriously, Luna, no need to—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. Luna’s leg moved in a blur of motion, her heel connecting with the side of his temple with the force of a sledgehammer. Damien’s eyes rolled back into his head instantly, and he slumped onto the floor, unconscious before he even realized he’d been hit.

"I see you’re tired, Damien," she said, looking down at his limp form with a smirk. "Let me help you with that. Sleep well."

Luna concentrated, her body shifting, the bones grinding and hair lightening until the face of Vanessa looked back at her from the mirror. She straightened her clothes, wiped a stray drop of Damien’s blood from her cheek, and stepped out of the restroom.

The hallways were eerie and silent; the morning classes had already begun. She walked toward the exit, her mind already at the Golden Empire, until a flash of white caught her eye.

Nailed to a prominent oak tree near the school’s entrance was a poster. She stopped, her breath catching in her throat. It was a picture of Stephanie—smiling, vibrant, and full of the life Luna had lost. Below the photo, in bold, black letters, were the words: MISSING PERSON.

"What?" Luna whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Stephanie is missing? How? When?"

The world seemed to tilt. Stephanie was the daughter of the Mayor. She was protected, loved, and—most importantly—human. Who would dare touch her?

Luna looked around the courtyard, her predatory senses searching for any sign of a clue. Near the edge of the lawn, an old gardener was meticulously trimming a hedge. He was an elderly man, his skin like wrinkled parchment, wearing a faded jumpsuit. He seemed oblivious to the world, lost in the music playing from a small box on his belt, wired earpieces tucked into his ears.

Luna hurried over to him. "Excuse me, sir! Excuse me!"

The gardener didn’t hear her over the drone of the shears and the music. Luna reached out and tapped him firmly on the shoulder.

The man jumped, nearly dropping his shears. He fumbled with his belt and removed one of the earpieces, squinting at her through thick glasses. He looked at her face—the face of Vanessa—and then blinked, his expression turning into one of confusion and then recognition.

"I’ve seen you somewhere before, girl," he said, his voice like dry leaves. "But you don’t look quite right today."

Luna realized she was still wearing the "Vanessa" mask. She didn’t have time to change. "Maybe you’ve seen me around. I’m... I’m a friend of Luna’s. Please, sir, do you know what happened to Stephanie?"

The gardener leaned on his shears, a slow, sad smile spreading across his face. "Now I remember. Luna. I couldn’t recognize you at first, even under that fancy makeup. You were always the quiet one. The shy girl who would hide in the library. Now you look... confident. Different." He chuckled. "The young shall grow and the old shall die. That’s the way of it."

"Yes, sir," Luna said, her patience thinning. "But you haven’t answered me yet. What happened to the girl on the missing poster? What happened to Stephanie?"

The old gardener sighed, looking toward the school gates. "What do you think happened, girl? She’s missing. Gone like a leaf in a storm. One day she was here, the next... her father’s men were crawling all over this yard like ants on a piece of sugar."

"But that’s impossible," Luna pressed. "Who would dare to take the Mayor’s daughter? In this city, he has more power than the police."

The gardener went back to his trimming, the snip-snip of the shears punctuating his words. "There are daring men everywhere, Luna. Men who don’t care about titles or mayors. Men who hunt things that others don’t even believe in. We just pray you don’t cross paths with them. Some doors, once they’re opened, can’t ever be shut again."

Luna stood frozen as the gardener put his earpiece back in. She looked back at the poster of Stephanie. The "daring men" the gardener mentioned—could it be the Hunter Association? Or was it something worse?.