The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 78: fight to the death

Zaliver pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for mine, the same hand my father had just grabbed. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he took it and examined it closely. No marks, nothing bruised or red, but the intensity in his gaze made the gesture feel like a declaration.

I looked up at him just as his eyes flickered black. His upper lip curled, not quite a snarl, but the warning was there, simmering just under the surface. Then, without a word, he turned to face my parents with a grin sharp enough to cut the tension clean in half.

I couldn’t move. I just stood there, heart hammering, trying to catch up with what was happening.

"Hello," Zaliver began, tone cool and laced with something dangerous. "I’m Vivian’s mate. Zaliver Azrala. But I suppose that doesn’t mean much to you, does it, Mr. Gray? You’ve made your feelings pretty clear. You don’t approve."

His voice was calm, conversational even, but every word landed with the weight of a warning. He walked toward them slowly, hands clasped behind his back like he was taking a stroll rather than facing down my parents in their own daughter’s living room.

My mom and dad began backing toward the front door, eyes moving between him and me. Mom glanced at me, urgency all over her face, pleading silently. My mind felt scrambled. I couldn’t sort out what she needed from me. My legs were barely holding me up.

"Who the hell are you?" my father demanded, though his voice wavered. He looked straight at Zaliver but flinched doing it, like the eye contact cost him something. He and my mother were circling slowly toward the exit, moving the way prey moves when it doesn’t want the predator to notice.

Zaliver’s expression twisted into something that looked almost amused, in the way a cat looks amused watching something smaller run.

"What? I’m the bad influence, remember?"

Both my parents flinched. I knew that tone. It meant he was past reasoning.

My father looked at me then, panic written into every line of his face, eyes asking the question I dreaded: Is this really your mate?

I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t speak. The bond had gone cold, like Zaliver had drawn every spark of warmth back into himself just to prove what it felt like without it.