The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 218: Chapter 218 She’d come alone

Victor felt a bitter laugh rise in his throat. Here was this girl lecturing him about loyalty and doing the right thing. And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

"I’m not going to hurt Aria," Victor said quietly. "I already made that choice."

Emily searched his face for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Then we’re on the same side. I’ll handle Lucas—you don’t need to know how. Just... trust me."

And before Victor could respond, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door, her steps quick and determined.

Victor watched her go, a strange mix of disbelief and grudging admiration settling over him.

*What the hell just happened?*He stood alone in the foyer for a long moment after she left, the silence pressing in around him.

*That pup has more spine than we do,* his wolf said, quiet and cutting.

*She doesn’t know what she’s up against, *Victor answered.

*Neither did we, and we still chose to kneel. *The wolf’s growl vibrated through his bones. *We bared our throat to a Beta’s daughter. We betrayed one of our own blood to protect another. What kind of Alpha does that make us?*

*The kind that keeps Lucas alive.*

*For now.* The wolf paced, restless. *But wolves like Sylvia don’t stop at one favor. Today it was Aria. Tomorrow it will be the pack. She will keep pulling until there is nothing left of us to pull.*

Victor closed his eyes, a wave of self-loathing washing over him.

*I know,* he admitted. *I know.*

---

Aria’s POV

The headlights cut through the darkness as I pulled up to Old Ashford Mill just after midnight.

The abandoned building loomed ahead like something out of a horror movie—all crumbling brick and broken windows, half-swallowed by overgrown vines that seemed to writhe in the wind.

I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles had gone white.

I reached for the silver-loaded pistol in the passenger seat, checking the safety one more time before tucking it into the waistband of my jeans.

The cold metal pressed against my lower back, a reassuring weight that made me feel slightly less insane for being here.