The Lycan King’s Stolen Luna: Faking Amnesia to Revenge My Alpha Chapter 05

The Lycan King’s Stolen Luna: Faking Amnesia to Revenge My Alpha Chapter 05

I never went back to that hospital room.

Ethan got discharged a few days later, but he didn’t come home.

The pack gossip mill was already buzzing—he’d bought a new place across town and moved Chloe right in.

Marcus called to play peacemaker, telling me to give him space. He kept swearing the brain trauma was minor, that the amnesia would clear up any day now.

“Define ‘any day now,'” I demanded.

“Three months. Maybe six,” Marcus sighed.

As if that changed anything.

Even if his memory snapped back tomorrow, the damage was done. Was I just supposed to play happy wife after this?

Every time I closed my eyes, the image of them locked together burned behind my eyelids.

Just picturing my mate threading his fingers through another she-wolf’s hair made my stomach violently heave.

I barely made it to the toilet before I started dry-heaving. Sleep was a joke.

I hated him.

I wanted to claw the mate bond right out of my chest.

But ten years of loving him had turned those roots into poisoned briars, tangled deep around my ribs. Ripping them out meant bleeding to death.

A buzzing screen shattered the dark quiet of the bedroom.

I didn’t even bother shutting off the bathroom tap before lunging for my phone.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then, the wet, rhythmic sounds of friction, punctuated by a man’s heavy, ragged breathing.

Before I could demand who it was, a breathless giggle bled through the speaker.

“Look at you, baby. So impatient tonight. You really like the nurse outfit, huh? Next time I’ll get a schoolgirl skirt. I can be the student, you can play teacher…”

Then came Ethan’s low, raspy chuckle. “Do whatever you want.”

My chest went completely hollow. My blood turned to liquid ice.

The unmistakable, sharp crinkle of a foil wrapper tearing open echoed in my ear.

I slammed the end button, the reality hitting me like a physical blow to the sternum.

My stomach rolled again. I stumbled back to the toilet, clutching my throat.

By the time I was done retching, I was shaking and utterly spent. I flicked the faucet off, sliding down the cold drywall until I hit the floor, letting the tears finally come.

Trash.

He was absolute, disgusting trash.

As I sat there weeping in the dark, the screen flared to life again.

A text from a burner number. Just an attached file.

I tapped it.

It was a video—raw, explicit, and perfectly focused on the man’s face.

My mate. Ethan.

I didn’t need to guess who sent it.

Rage vibrated through my bones. My thumb hovered over the delete button, but a cold, ruthless drop of sanity stopped me. Biting my lip until it tasted like iron, I hit save instead.

The second the download finished, my remaining strength evaporated. I pulled my knees to my chest, curling up in the pitch-black corner.

Knowing he was touching her was a slow, agonizing poison.

I was twenty-eight. My entire adult life had been built around this one man.

Why was the Moon Goddess leaving me to drown alone in this black ocean?

What was I supposed to do?

With trembling fingers, I scrolled through my contact list, staring at the names of wolves I’d known for years.

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow—there wasn’t a single soul left in Silver Ridge I could trust.

Ping.

The sharp chime cut through the quiet.

A WhatsApp notification from another unknown number.

I opened the thread. A single message from earlier that evening stared back at me:

[This is Ryan.]

Right below it was a location pin—The Onyx Den.

Then the typing bubbles popped up, and a fresh text appeared.

[Come have a drink?💋]