The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 97: Of Age

You’d think turning eighteen would give a werewolf a little breathing room from their parents. Not even close.

The second I got back home, I started planning. Step by step, I laid it out in my head, determined not to leave any loose ends. I considered telling my parents everything... but in the end, I decided to leave them out of it. At least for now. Who knows—maybe I’d track Zaliver down, punch him right in his lying face, and be home before dinner. It worked wonders last time, right?

Lunch came and went without me touching a single bite. Just thinking about that manipulative, smug, blue-eyed jerk made my stomach churn. Pushing the plate away, I headed straight to my room and fed my frustration by packing a small duffel bag. Just the basics: clothes, toiletries, and enough stubbornness to carry me through whatever came next. I didn’t even know how long I could stand to look at him, let alone talk to him.

A knock sounded at my door. Courtney. Her face was pale, but her tone was dead serious. "A plane will be ready whenever you decide to leave."

I measured the worry in her eyes before giving a sharp nod. "Tomorrow." I needed the night to clear my head and tighten my strategy.

When my parents came home, I tried to break the news gently. That didn’t go as planned. I told them I was going on a trip and didn’t know when I’d be back—which sounded a bit more ominous than I intended. Naturally, they freaked out, demanding to know where I was going and who I was going with.

I shut it down fast with the classic "I’m eighteen and not just your average supernatural being anymore" argument.

They hated it. But I reminded them that I was at least giving them the courtesy of a heads-up—unlike a certain someone. Cough. Zaliver. That little jab hit home, judging by the sudden tension in the room. Seeing the absolute determination in my eyes, they finally backed off.

Sleep? Not a chance. I paced my room like a caged animal. A paranoid voice in my head warned that if I closed my eyes, Zaliver might mess with my mind again—sneak into my dreams and twist my memories. I wasn’t giving him the opening.