The Mafia's Luna

"Water."

One word was all I could manage. My throat had dried to the point of burning, and anything else came out as unintelligible mumbles.

I opened my eyes slowly. My hands and feet were tied tightly to the chair; I tried to move a hand but succeeded only in lacerating my skin with the rope.

How did I get caught up in this situation?

It was all because I came to this city in search of my family.

I was living with my uncle in a small town near the capital. Even though I was an orphan, my uncle tried to never let me feel the absence of my parents. I was always curious about them, as any orphan would be. Whenever I asked my uncle about them — which was often — he'd barely say anything before changing the subject.

Still, I was content— but good times never last long.

My uncle fell chronically ill around the time I turned eighteen a few months ago. On one of my visits to his hospital room, he did the unexpected: he was completely open and honest with me.

"Bailey, whatever I'm going to tell you today might sound bizarre to you. You may think whatever I'm spouting are the words of a sick old man who doesn't know what he's saying."

He was only in his fifties, but somehow looked twenty years older in that room.

"You can already sense the change within your body, can't you?" he asked.

I could. I'd always felt something different about my body, something... off. Even more so than other girls my age.

The flowers I'd brought on my previous visit had bloomed beautifully on the table by his bed. I stared at them to divert my nervousness; I both wanted to know more and was afraid of knowing more.

You could have given me a thousand guesses and I wouldn't have predicted what he said next.

"Your parents were werewolves, Bailey." His voice was clear and focused, not sounding like a delirious old man at all. "So are you."

My eyes widened, my breathing stopped, my mouth hung open.

Werewolves? Say what?

I wished for someone else in the room to have heard that, so I could be sure I wasn't the one losing my mind.

Would an ill patient in his hospital bed be making up stories?

"Your parents did not die in an accident," he went on. "They were... assassinated when you were just an infant. Who killed your parents and for which purpose, I do not know. But I was afraid that whoever it was would come after you next, so I suppressed your wolf to keep you hidden from the world."

Suddenly "werewolves" seemed like the most normal part of the conversation.

I felt my knees getting weak. I doubted if I could make it out of the room on my own power.

My uncle sat up and pointed to his bag from home, which sat on the bedside table. I handed it to him and he dug out a small, ornate jewelry box that I knew had belonged to my mother. He held it out to me with trembling hands.

My own hands trembled when I took it from him.

"I know it's a lot for you to take in at once, Bailey. Most of the things I said must not even make sense to you. However, my time in this world is coming to an end." He stared out the window like he was talking to someone not even in the room.

I opened the box to find an address on a small piece of paper.

"You must find your family since I can no longer protect you," he said, now looking at me again, smiling with unusual sadness.

My fingers tightened on the box as I found myself unable — or maybe unwilling — to say anything.

"You don't have to worry about me. I might die sooner than an average person, but I can hold on till you find your answers. I'm not that old yet, you know." His last words were followed by a coughing spell that made him hunch forward like someone in intense pain.

Tears filled my eyes when I looked into his bright blue eyes and pale face. If it were not for me, he might have had a happy life with his wife and children.

"Happy Birthday, Bailey," my uncle said as I was about to leave the room.

My eighteenth birthday was the next day. Did he think he wouldn't be around to tell me then? I had come of age — I was officially an adult — yet I was afraid whether I would be able to make it alone or not.

So, in the end I decided to go to the city to find my answers.

****

The train was earlier than expected as I stood alone on the platform. I wore my oversized striped shirt with a floral top and baggy blue jeans, my shoulder-length raven hair hanging loose. I carried my favorite Louis Vuitton black-gray checkered bag, which I received from my uncle on my sixteenth birthday — the only luxury thing I possessed. The next year he'd gotten me the camera that I had inside the bag.

"I will come back once I find all the answers," I'd told him in the hospital the day before. "You need to stay alive till then. Deal?"

"Deal," he'd replied with a weak chuckle.

I boarded the train, making my way to a possible new life.

As we entered the city, my eyes widened at the impossibly tall buildings. I'd seen big cities in TV shows, I just didn't know the immensity of one would leave me in such awe.

After disembarking at the city center station, which seemed like a good place to start, I moved around clueless for a few minutes. I didn't know where to ask for help. People appeared too busy to approach, passing by me like they were all in a hurry.

I finally came around to a port area after wandering aimlessly. Large ships were docked all in a row, with cargo being loaded and unloaded from each.

An old man working one of the smaller boats caught my eye. He was gasping for air while trying to work a massive crate down on pulleys. I moved closer to ask him if he needed help, not really knowing what an eighteen year old girl could offer.

He was startled by my sudden appearance as if he had seen a ghost. He lost his balance, and the crate fell to the ground.

"It's my fault. I apologize," I hastily said, bending over to offer him a hand up.

That was when I noticed what had spilled out of the crate, now littering the area around us.

Guns.

Guns of all shapes and sizes.

Suddenly, I heard voices from afar. Before I could proceed, a few thugs appeared — "thugs" is the only way to describe those brutish guys with massive bodies and scary scars on their faces.

"Please, don't kill me!" the old man cried out. "I swear I did not do this willingly. They asked me to do it!"

One of the thugs approached me and I stood, unable to move. "A rogue?" he asked, staring at me coldly.

Was he asking me a question? What was a rogue?

"They are probably working together. Tie these two up," he ordered.

I struggled as two others grabbed my arms. I wanted to tell them I had no idea what they were talking about, but before I could, something hit me in the back of the head, and I lost consciousness.

****

From my spot tied to the chair, I swiveled my head around as far as I could. I appeared to be in a basement. The tiny sliver of light coming from the top of the stairs revealed that there wasn't much in there besides me, apart from more crates stacked in a corner. A spiderweb hung up in a high corner.

I was able to spot a spiderweb?

Since when could I see so clearly in the dark?

I heard footsteps at the top of the stairs, and the door opened with a thud. My eyes burned with the sudden exposure to the bright light.

The man who came slowly downstairs had a face I had never seen before, but I doubted if I would ever forget it.

Was it even possible for mythical gods to come to life?

Standing over six feet tall, the blond man was impossibly handsome. His broad shoulders and perfectly formed abs were visible under the tight-fitting black suit. Veins were prominent on his forearms due to his sleeves being rolled up.

His complexion was pale, similar to mine. A strange feeling tightened my chest as his piercing blue eyes stared at me with burning rage.

He lit a cigarette and began to speak.

Arctic blue eyes gazed deep into mine. The unusual tension encircling my mind also became apparent in his eyes.

There was no doubt that the man experienced a similar sensation. However, within a glimpse, his eyes turned cold.

"You, girl, how dare a nasty rogue like you attempt to infiltrate the white wolves' territory?" the guy asked, tilting his head and placing the cigarette between his lips seductively.

His low-pitched voice pierced through my soul. If it weren't for those intense cold eyes, his voice would be the most attractive voice I had ever heard.

Nevertheless, I didn't even flinch at the terrifying aura encircling him, which resulted in annoying him even more.

What was the point of even answering him? I wondered. I had almost ended up ripping my vocal cords earlier, in an attempt to explain to them that I was not a rogue. Or perhaps I was.

However, I considered myself a stray. And I had no idea about anything the thugs asked me continuously until I lost consciousness.

"Now a rogue is daring to defy me?" he asked again, leaning toward my chair.

He placed his tall leg on the side of my chair as I was lost in my thoughts. His Chanel shoes gleamed even in the dim light of the basement.

The strange feeling returned as soon as he came near me. The man's eyes changed as well. He hastily got up again, shooting me a burning glare.

The phenomenally handsome man turned to the old guy from earlier, lying in the corner of the room, barely conscious. I was surprised that I didn't notice him all this time.

"Weren't they together?" the guy asked, coldly staring at the old man, who appeared beaten.

"Yes, Alpha," the thugs said, who had brought me here earlier.

Alpha? Was he the leader of those thugs, or was he a werewolf like me? I wondered.

The alpha guy leaned and grabbed the old man by his collar. He asked in a cold, piercing tone, "Which pack do you belong to? What were you doing here with that rogue?"

The old man began to throb violently in fear and cried out, trembling, "Ple-please, have mercy on me! Please don't kill me!"

"Do you believe after daring to invade our territory with a rogue, you can leave with your limbs intact?" the guy asked, getting up. "Kill him, and this rogue as well. Even the site of this rogue is making me want to throw up," he said bitterly, turning to me.

My eyes widened. The man was scary, and for some reason, he despised rogues. Considering the weapons earlier, I wondered if they were some mafia gang. Still, how could he kill that old man? I didn't know what they were saying. But I couldn't just let him kill an old guy.

The thugs had grabbed the old man, forcing him to stand with his arms tied.

"Give up this act already," the thug from earlier said. "A beta can't be this weak. Do you think you can fool us by acting like an old man?"

They began to punch the old man as he continued to ask for mercy. The man started coughing blood as the guys continued to beat him severely. My eyes widened at the gruesome torture before my eyes. The handsome man from earlier was standing at a corner calmly. His eyes were gazing at me.

"Please stop!" I cried out, closing my eyes. My voice created a mysterious impact on the thugs.

Everyone halted, staring at me, puzzled as I was gasping for air.

"I am not a rogue!" I cried out. "I don't care who you people are, but you can't just kill someone like this," I said.

"Now this rogue is talking. Are you this afraid of death?" the guy from earlier asked calmly. "Should I torture you instead to unveil your true intentions?"

The guy came towards me in a blink. I felt like he would beat me. However, unexpectedly, all the guys fell to their knees, bowing.

Shortly, a man in his late fifties entered with a bunch of men dressed in black suits following him.

"Greetings, Master," the handsome guy said, bowing gracefully.

"Caspian, what is taking you so long to deal with just two invaders? I heard one of them is just a young girl," the older man asked the handsome guy.

There was something graceful about his ambiance. He was different from any of them. I could sense a powerful aura from him.

"I apologize for disappointing you, Master," Caspian said, not raising his gaze.

The man turned to me and asked, "Is this the rogue girl?"

The man seemed perplexed as our eyes met.

"Your features," the man mumbled. "You look so familiar."

I possessed a rare pair of dark purple eyes from my mother. Due to my pale skin and unusual eyes, people would often get stunned by my appearance.

However, I couldn't deny that the aged man standing before me appeared oddly familiar to me. Even though lines of his age were apparent on his face, his well-built body was screaming of his strength. Not to mention his raven hair and rare purple eyes. They were too much to ignore.

One of the guys in a black suit came toward me and grabbed the bag I had still hanging on the sides of my body.

"Don't touch my bag!" I yelled. My mother's jewelry box that my uncle had given me was the only way to find my family.

They began to unload my bag. There was nothing much in my bag except for the bare necessities for a woman. The jewelry box fell on the concrete floor.

The guy grabbed the box and attempted to open it. However, it did not open. I tried to open it back in my home as well. But my uncle said he had no idea where the key for the box was.

"Leave that box alone, you jerk!" I cried out.

I stared at the old man to find him standing there frozen. The look on his face was unfathomable. He took tiny steps toward the man and snatched the box.

He stared at it for a few seconds and asked, "Where did you get this box?"

"It belonged to my mother," I said calmly. "I am not a rogue or anything. I just found out that I'm a werewolf a few days back. I don't even know who that man is. I only wanted to help him because he looked old," I said.

The older man stared at me skeptically and desperately asked, "This box belonged to your mother, you said?"

"Yes, my parents died when I was just an infant. My uncle raised me all these years. I came to this city to find the rest of my family but got caught up in this mess. And the next thing I knew was that they were going to kill me because I am a rogue," I said in a tiny voice.

The aged man stared at the pendant hanging on my chest. He hastily came towards me and grabbed it.

"What are you doing?" I asked, getting perplexed by his attempt.

He took the pendant and put it on the box. Suddenly, the jewelry box began to open, playing a lullaby that sounded like a beautiful siren's song.

"Wolves asleep amidst the trees, Bats all swaying in the breeze—

But one soul lies anxious, wide awake, Fearing all manner of ghouls, hags, and wraiths."

I stared at the aged man confusedly, who had tears in his eyes unexpectedly. How did he know that pendant was the key to the box? I wondered.