The Sacred Luna

Chapter 9

**CONTENT WARNING: SCENES AHEAD MIGHT BE DISTURBING TO SOME AUDIENCE. READER DISCRETION ADIVCED!**

(Sanya's POV)

The garden swallows us whole.

Darkness presses in from all sides, broken only by distant mansion lights that seem miles away instead of a hundred yards. Dead leaves crunch under my feet as Tyron pulls me deeper into the shadows, away from the house, away from anyone who might hear.

My heart hammers against the corset still crushing my ribs.

"Tyron, please—"

"Tell me about Aaron Knight." His voice is soft. Controlled. Terrifying in its calmness.

"There's nothing to tell. We were friends in college—"

He spins me around so fast the world blurs. His face is inches from mine, ice-blue eyes burning with something cold and deadly.

"Friends," he repeats. "You told this woman you loved him. That he'd be yours even after death. Those aren't words you use for a friend."

"I—yes, I loved him, but—"

He pulls off his belt.

The leather slides through the loops with a hiss that makes my blood freeze.

No. Oh god, no.

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be real.

The first strike lands across my back.

The pain is instant. Blinding. White-hot.

I scream.

My voice tears from my throat raw and broken.

The heavy dress offers no protection. The fabric makes it worse somehow. The impact harder. Sharper.

“Where did he touch you?” Tyron shouts.

His voice sounds far away. Like I’m underwater.

The belt comes down again.

I try to move. Try to crawl away.

But my dress is too heavy. Too tangled around my legs.

I can’t get away.

This can’t be happening.

“How far did you go?”

I curl into a ball. Try to protect myself.

My arms come up over my head. My knees pull to my chest.

But it doesn’t help.

The belt finds me anyway.

Again. And again.

“Did he see your private parts?”

This can’t be happening.

“Did he kiss you there?”

This can’t be real.

"Did he touch you there?"

“No!” I sob. “We never—”

The belt cracks across my back again.

The pain is blinding. It steals my breath, my words, everything but the burning fire spreading across my shoulders.

I stumble, fall to my knees. The ridiculous dress pools around me, white silk against dark grass.

"Never what?" Tyron circles me like a predator. "Never thought I'd find out? Thought you'd hide it from me? Make a fool of me in front of my entire pack?"

"I didn't know she'd be there! I haven't seen Maya since graduation—"

Another strike. This one across my bottom, lower. The dress provides some protection—layers of fabric and boning—but not enough.

Not nearly enough.

"Did you love him?"

I don't answer. Can't. My throat has closed with pain and fear.

"DID YOU LOVE HIM?"

"Yes!" The word rips from me. "Yes, I loved him! But we never—we were waiting—"

"Waiting." He laughs, and the sound makes my skin crawl. "How convenient. You expect me to believe you were 'just friends' with this man you loved? That you never let him touch you?"

"It's the truth!"

The belt whistles through the air. Cracks against my shoulders. Again. Again.

I lose count after eleven.

Each strike sends fire through my body. The jeweled dress tears under the assault, pearls scattering across the grass like tears. My carefully pinned hair comes loose, the tiara falling somewhere in the darkness.

"Where did he touch you?" Tyron's breathing hard now, rage making his voice rough. "How far did you go?"

"Nowhere! We never—Aaron respected me—we were waiting for marriage—"

"LIAR!"

The belt finds my back again and I can't hold back the scream.

"I've done nothing wrong!" The words come out broken, desperate. "Loving someone isn't a crime!"

"It is when you're MY WIFE!" He throws the belt aside and grabs my hair, yanking my head back. "You gave him your heart. Your love. Your devotion. And what am I left with? Scraps? Leftovers?"

Tears stream down my face. "Please—"

"Am I tasting another man's used goods?" His grip tightens until my scalp screams. "A second-hand wife? Do you know what that makes me, Sanya? Do you understand the humiliation?"

"We never—I swear on the Creator—"

He shoves me away and I collapse fully onto the grass. Through blurred vision, I watch him stride toward the garden shed.

No. Please, no.

He returns dragging a hose. The kind used for watering the elaborate gardens. Heavy-duty. High pressure.

My wolf surges beneath my skin, wanting to protect me, wanting to fight back. But I push her down. If I shift, if I show any aggression—he'll kill me. I know it with bone-deep certainty.

So I stay human. Stay vulnerable.

Stay prey.

"Let me cool that fire you had for him," Tyron says, almost conversational now. "Wash away his memory from your skin."

He turns the hose on.

The water hits like a fist.

Ice-cold, winter-brutal, pressurized enough to knock me flat. It steals my breath, my warmth, my ability to think. The world becomes nothing but freezing agony and the roar of water in my ears.

I try to crawl away but the water follows, relentless. It soaks through what's left of the dress, through my skin, into my bones.

My body starts shaking. Violent, uncontrollable tremors that make my teeth chatter so hard I taste blood.

Can't breathe. Can't think. Can't—

The water finally stops.

I lie gasping on the grass, shaking so hard it hurts. My fingers are blue in the dim light. My lips feel numb.

Tyron crouches beside me. Close enough that I can see his expression clearly.

He's not even angry anymore. Just cold. Disgusted.

"I, Tyron Stone, have never used even a discarded toy," he says quietly. "I always get the best. The first. The finest. I've built my entire life on that principle."

He reaches out and tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes.

"And yet I got a used woman as my wife? Someone who loved another man? Someone who gave her heart away before I could claim it?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper through chattering teeth. "I'm so sorry—"

"Sorry doesn't change what you are." He releases my chin with enough force to make my head snap back. "A stain on my reputation. A mark of shame on the Stone name. My wife—my Luna—carrying another man in her heart."

He stands, looking down at me with something that might be pity if it weren't wrapped in so much contempt.

"Where is he now, this Aaron Knight? Why isn't he here to save you?"

The question breaks something inside me.

Because I don't know. Don't know where Aaron is, why he didn't come, whether he's alive or dead or just a liar who never loved me at all.

"I don't know," I say.

"Pathetic." Tyron turns away. "Don't think you can escape by fainting. We're not done—"

But darkness is already pulling at the edges of my vision. My body has had enough—cold, pain, fear all combining to shut everything down.

I hear Tyron’s voice. Still shouting. Still raging.

But distant and distorted. Muffled. Like I’m sinking underwater.

Then I smell...rain, fresh and clean. And pine. Like a forest after a storm.

Aaron’s scent.

It wraps around me, warm and familiar.

Comforting in a way nothing else has been since that empty road.

I feel a touch on my forehead. Gentle. Careful.

Like someone brushing my hair back.

Then something falls on my face.

Soft. Cool.

I force my eyes open just a crack.

Moon leaves.

They’re falling around me like snow. Silver-green and glowing in the darkness.

Landing on my skin. On my ruined dress. On the ground beside me.

Covering me like a blanket.

The scent of rain and pine grows stronger.

The gentle touch stays on my forehead.

And I get the strange sense that...

Someone is here.

I’m not alone.

The last thought that crosses my mind before everything goes black is:

Aaron.