Bound by Fate, Torn by war(THE LUNA’S WAR)

Bella's eyes fluttered open to the faint golden glow of morning light streaming through the window.

For a moment, she didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Didn't dare acknowledge the warmth pressed against her back, the steady rise and fall of the strong chest behind her, the way a possessive arm was draped over her waist, holding her as if letting go would mean losing a war.

But then reality crashed down like a storm, and her entire body tensed.

Dante.

Last night wasn't a dream.

He had touched her. Kissed her. Ruined her.

And she had let him.

Bella's heart pounded as she stared at the wall, swallowing against the heat that threatened to rise in her throat.

Because now came the worst part.

The aftermath.

She could already predict how this was going to go.

Dante would wake up. He'd stiffen, panic would flicker in his cold blue eyes, and then he would do what he always did—push her away like she was a mistake.

A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought.

She refused to give him the chance.

Carefully, she lifted his heavy arm off her waist and slid out from under him, suppressing a sharp inhale when her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor.

She needed to get out of here.

Now.

Bella grabbed her scattered clothes, pulling her shirt over her head in quick, sharp movements. She reached for her jeans—

But a deep, raspy voice stopped her.

"Running away already?"

Bella froze, her spine going rigid.

Shit.

She turned slowly, her golden-brown eyes locking onto Dante's icy blues, still clouded with sleep—but there was something else there too.

Something raw.

Something she didn't trust.

Dante propped himself up on his elbows, the sheets barely covering his lower half, revealing the cut muscles of his stomach, his sculpted chest, the sharp curve of his collarbones where her teeth had sunk into him hours ago.

Her cheeks burned at the memory.

The way he had touched her. The way he had made her feel.

His eyes flickered down to her bare legs, his expression darkening as he dragged his gaze slowly back up to her face.

"Come back to bed, Bella."

His voice was low, dangerous, thick with something she couldn't name.

A shudder rippled through her, but she shook her head, her jaw tightening.

"I'm not doing this," she said sharply, grabbing her jeans and shoving one leg in.

Dante sat up fully now, running a slow hand through his messy dark hair, his muscles flexing as he did.

"And what exactly is 'this'?" he asked, voice deceptively calm.

Bella let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"Oh, you know," she said, yanking her jeans up over her hips. "The part where you pretend this didn't happen. The part where you tell me it was a mistake, that it meant nothing."

She yanked her boots on, hands shaking as she tightened the laces.

Dante was silent.

And that silence cut her more than words ever could.

Bella stood up, folding her arms over her chest, her golden-brown eyes burning as she glared at him.

"Say it," she challenged, her voice shaking with anger, hurt, something dangerously close to heartbreak. "Tell me last night didn't mean anything to you."

Dante's jaw locked, his hands curling into fists on the bed.

He didn't say a word.

Bella's chest ached.

That was her answer.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind her.

Dante's War

Dante sat there, his breathing uneven, his body still burning from her warmth, her taste, the way she had come undone beneath him.

He had fucked up.

Again.

His hands ran through his hair as he let out a harsh, ragged breath, his wolf, Zephyr, howling in frustration.

"Go after her!" his wolf snarled inside his mind. "Fix this before it's too late!"

Dante gritted his teeth. He couldn't.

He had already let things go too far.

He had already broken every rule he had set for himself.

But even as he sat there, his body still thrumming with the memory of her, the bond pulsing between them like a heartbeat, he knew the truth.

There was no running from this anymore.

The Explosion

By the time Bella stormed into the training grounds, her entire body was shaking with fury.

She needed to hit something.

Someone.

And when her eyes landed on Chase Peterson, the Beta of White Moon, she had her target.

Chase barely had time to react before Bella launched herself at him, throwing the first punch.

The impact sent a sharp pain up her knuckles, but she didn't care.

She needed an outlet.

Chase stumbled back, eyes wide in shock, but then he smirked.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," he muttered before dodging her next attack.

A small crowd began to gather as they sparred—but Bella wasn't fighting for training.

She was fighting to forget.

Fighting to erase the feel of Dante's hands on her skin.

But she knew it was useless.

Because no matter how hard she fought, how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, she would always feel him.

Because he was hers.

Even if he was too much of a coward to admit it.

Dante's Breaking Point

Dante was still in his room, still sitting on the edge of his bed, when the growls from the training grounds reached his ears.

A deep snarl rumbled in his chest as he heard her fighting.

Fighting someone else.

His wolf snapped.

Before he could think, before he could reason, he was moving, storming out of his room, his body humming with rage, possession, and something darker than jealousy.

And when he stepped into the training grounds and saw Chase's hands on her, saw the way she was throwing herself into every hit like she was trying to erase the memory of last night…

Dante lost it.

A thunderous growl tore from his throat, silencing the entire training field as he stalked forward.

Bella turned, her breathing heavy, her eyes burning.

Dante grabbed her wrist.

She yanked away.

"Don't touch me," she snarled.

Dante's fists clenched, his entire body vibrating with possession and frustration.

"You think you can just walk away?" his voice was dangerously low, his blue eyes burning.

"You already did," Bella shot back, her voice thick with anger and pain.

The words hit him like a dagger to the chest.

Silence stretched between them, the entire pack watching, holding their breath.

And then Dante did the only thing he could do.

He grabbed the back of Bella's neck and kissed her.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he was branding her, marking her, proving that no matter how much he fought it—

She was his.

And this war between them?

Had only just begun.