She Called Me His Whore—I Was His Luna

I stood before the mirror in my small apartment, my fingers tracing the delicate silver chain around my neck. The Luna necklace caught the morning light, its ancient sapphire gleaming like captured starlight. Seven generations of Blackwood Lunas had worn this piece—each one a testament to power, legacy, and belonging.

Three years ago, on that secret mating night hidden from the pack's eyes, Sterling had fastened this very clasp behind my neck with trembling fingers. His breath had been warm against my ear as he whispered promises that felt eternal in the darkness. But I'd never worn it publicly. Our relationship existed in shadows, in stolen moments, in whispered conversations that no one else could hear.

Today felt different. Today I was going to sign the papers for the house—our first real step toward something permanent. Sterling had bought it for us, a modest two-story in the quiet part of town where we could finally stop hiding. My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach, where a secret even more precious than our mating bond was growing. Four months along, and Sterling still didn't know.

The Target dress I'd chosen was simple—navy blue with small white flowers, nothing that would draw attention. I'd learned to dress down, to blend in, to never give anyone reason to question why Sterling Blackwood might notice me. But today, I wanted to wear something that was truly mine. Something that proved I belonged in his world, even if that world wasn't ready to see it.

The elevator in Blackwood Holdings carried the scent of expensive cologne and power. I'd been here dozens of times, but always through service entrances, always careful to avoid the main floors where Sterling conducted his Alpha business. The legal department was on the fifteenth floor—neutral territory where a nobody like me could handle paperwork without raising eyebrows.

The elevator hummed upward, passing floor after floor of Sterling's empire. My reflection caught in the polished steel doors, and for a moment, I almost looked like I belonged here. The necklace transformed everything—my posture, my confidence, the way the light hit my face.

Then the elevator lurched to a stop on the twenty-third floor.

The administrative level. Sterling's floor.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the doors slid open. This wasn't my stop. I pressed myself against the back wall, hoping whoever entered wouldn't notice me, wouldn't ask questions I couldn't answer.

A woman stepped in, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

She was everything I wasn't—tall, commanding, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her green eyes swept the elevator with predatory efficiency. When her gaze landed on me, it stopped. Specifically, it stopped at my throat.

At the necklace.

"Interesting," she said, her voice carrying the crisp authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the sapphire pendant. "That's quite a piece of jewelry for