C1 Ghosts of the past

Lucas sat at the far end of the tavern, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. The firelight flickered against the cracked wooden walls, throwing shadows that moved like restless spirits. His chest ached with every swallow. He hated this day. He hated how it clawed at his heart, how it reminded him of everything he had lost.

The anniversary.

His mate’s death.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing her face to fade, but it didn’t. Her laughter. Her scent. The way she used to say his name like it meant something. And then the memory of her body, broken and lifeless, replaced the warmth. His grip tightened around the bottle until the glass threatened to shatter.

He was an omega, weak by pack standards, but he had loved her with everything he had. And from that love came Zoe — the only good thing left in his life.

“I should’ve died with you,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

The room spun as he took another swallow. The tavern blurred into silence, even though wolves chattered and laughed around him. He drank until the world tilted, until grief numbed into a haze of alcohol. He welcomed it. He wanted oblivion.

When his head finally hit the rough mattress upstairs, he let the darkness claim him.

---

Sunlight stabbed through his eyelids the next morning. His skull throbbed as though someone had split it open. Groaning, Lucas turned over—

And froze.

A woman’s hair spilled across the pillow beside him, long, black, and threaded with silver as though the moon itself had kissed it. His pulse spiked. He jerked upright, blinking at the elegant lines of her face. Strong, regal. Her lips parted slightly in sleep.

It took only one heartbeat to recognize her.

Luna Vashti.

The queen of Paxton Pack. The first female Alpha in history. A woman whispered about with reverence and fear in equal measure.

Lucas’s throat closed. His chest heaved. This couldn’t be real. How in the Goddess’s name had an omega like him ended up in the bed of a Luna — not just any Luna, but her?

His stomach twisted as panic clawed through him. If anyone found out—

No. No. This never happened. You were drunk. You don’t remember. It means nothing.

He scrambled off the bed, careful not to wake her. His heart hammered so violently he thought it might break his ribs. He grabbed his shirt, tugging it over his head with shaking hands.

As he turned for the door, Vashti stirred, murmuring something soft in her sleep. His body stilled. The sound of her voice rolled over him like warm honey, searing his skin.

He nearly broke. Nearly turned back.

But fear won.

Lucas wrenched the door open and fled into the morning light, the echo of her breathing still haunting his ears.

*****************

The cool morning air did little to sober him. Lucas’s boots pounded against the dirt path leading out of Paxton territory, his breath ragged, his heart heavier with every step. He wanted to erase the memory of that room — of her — but the image clung to him like a curse.

What have I done?

By the time he reached the borders of Gravelmoon pack, guilt had been swallowed by something sharper, something stronger. Hope. Zoe.

He needed to see his daughter. Her smile was the only thing that ever anchored him. She was the reason he kept dragging his broken soul through each miserable day.

The cottage came into view, small and humble, tucked between the trees. A smile tugged faintly at his lips despite his throbbing head. He could already imagine her rushing into his arms, her little voice calling, Papa!

But the smile died when he noticed the door was ajar.

Lucas’s pulse stuttered. “Zoe?” he called, stepping inside.

Silence.

The air felt wrong, heavy. The wooden chair in the corner was overturned. Her stuffed toy lay abandoned on the floor.

“No…” His chest seized. He dropped to his knees, clutching the toy, his hands shaking. “Zoe!” His voice cracked into a desperate roar.

Something slammed into the back of his head. Stars exploded across his vision. He fell, gasping, tasting iron on his tongue. Boots scraped against the floorboards. Rough hands gripped his arms, dragging him across the ground.

Lucas fought, but blows rained against his ribs, stealing his strength. Darkness closed in again, swallowing him whole.

---

When he woke, the world smelled of damp stone and rusted metal. His head throbbed viciously, his wrists rubbed raw against coarse rope. He blinked, fighting through the haze, and then—

“Papa?”

The small, frightened voice shattered him.

Zoe lay beside him on the cold floor, her tiny hands bound, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her green eyes — her mother’s eyes — fixed on him with terror.

Lucas’s heart broke clean in two. “Zoe…” His voice shook as he leaned toward her, trying to shift his body close enough to shield her. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ll get us out, I swear it.”

He struggled against his bonds, biting down until his wrists bled. The rope around Zoe’s hands was looser — he could maybe work it free if he could just—

The door groaned open.

Bootsteps echoed on the stone. Shadows filled the doorway, and then a figure stepped inside.

Lucas’s blood froze.

It was the Alpha of Gravelmoon.

“Why?” Lucas rasped, horror flashing in his eyes. “Why drag her into this? She’s just a child!”

The Alpha’s lips curved into a cruel smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “This, Lucas… is your punishment.”