CHAPTER 65: SO THIS IS THE SO CALLED LUNA?

Iris’s POV

Swifty, my eyes flew to my chest as I looked down at my chest, my eyes widening in horror as I saw my nipples all visible. indeed standing erect, starkly hard through the surface of my gown. The dress, which I’d thought was covering me, had slipped by mistake, perhaps when I’d yanked it up in a panic, or maybe it had never been secure to begin with. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, a hot flush creeping up my neck as I clutched the dress tighter, pulling it up to cover myself properly. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the lace, trying to put it in place desperate to cover my body from their prying eyes.

"Step back!" I snapped at Zane, my voice sharp and unsteady, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "And your breath stinks! Step back from me!"

His smirk disappeared immediately, for a split second, his dark eyes narrowed as if I’d slapped him so hard. He opened his mouth to retort, but before a single word could escape, the door flew open with a loud creak, slamming against the wall. My heart lurched, and I stumbled back, clutching the dress even tighter against my chest.

A girl stormed in, her presence filling the room. She’s in rage, a very severe rage. She looks young too, maybe a year or two older than me, with wild auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders and eyes blazing with fury. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, as she glared at the triplets. I didn’t know her, not even a sign of recognition stirred in my mind, but the cold in her gaze told me she knew exactly who I was.

Zane spun around, his posture shifting in an instant to defensive. "What the hell are you doing here, Liora?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Liora’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me, her expression twisting with disgust. "So this is it?" she spat, her voice dripping with accusation. "The so-called Luna? You’re pathetic, Iris. Throwing yourself at them like some desperate..."

"That’s not true!" I cut her off, my voice rising as I gripped the dress so tightly, trying to defend myself. "They barged in here! I was trying to change, and they just..." I gestured wildly at the triplets, my words tumbling over each other in my rush to defend myself. "I didn’t ask for this!"

Liora’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sneer. "Oh, please. Don’t play the innocent victim. I know your type. You think you can waltz in here, take what’s mine, and..."

"Yours?" I interrupted, my confusion outweighing my embarrassment for a moment. "Who even are you?"

She straightened, her chin lifting with a haughty air. "I’m Liora. Their lover." Her voice was sharp, each word a blade aimed at me. "And I’ve been with them long before you showed up with your fancy title and your..."

"Enough, Liora," Kael cut in as he stepped forward, his arms no longer crossed but tense at his sides. His usual hint of amusement was gone, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "You’re making a scene. Your voice is going to cause commotion, and you know you know what it means."

Liora’s head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing with betrayal. "A scene? I’m making a scene? You’re the ones sneaking around with her!" She jabbed a finger in my direction, her hand trembling with rage. "She’s nothing! She doesn’t even feel the bond, does she? She’s just some broken, useless..."

She took a step toward me, her hand raised as if to strike. My breath caught, and I braced myself, my back pressing harder against the cold stone wall. But before her hand could connect, Cade moved, swiftly, catching her wrist in a firm grip.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low but commanding, his eyes locking onto hers. "Don’t be dramatic, Liora. You can’t hit the Supreme Luna."

Liora froze, her chest heaving as she glared at Cade. For a moment, I thought she might yank her arm free and try again, but then her face switched, her anger giving way to something wounded and broken. "Supreme Luna?" she choked out, her voice breaking. "You’re defending her? After everything we..." Her words dissolved into a sob, and she wrenched her wrist from Cade’s grip, stumbling back toward the door.

"Liora, wait," Kael called, his tone softer now, almost pleading. He took a step toward her, but she shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Don’t touch me!" she cried, her voice cracking as she shoved past him. Zane reached out, his hand grazing her arm, but she jerked away, flinging the door open so hard it slammed against the wall again. And then she was gone, her sobs echoing faintly down the corridor.

The room fell silent. I stood there, still clutching my dress, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The triplets didn’t move, didn’t speak. Zane’s jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the open doorway. Kael ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Cade, still by the door, looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumped.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. "Why?" I demanded, my voice shaking but resolute. "Why did you marry me if you had a lover? If you love her, why am I here?"

None of them answered. Zane’s eyes flicked to me, cold and unreadable, before he turned and strode toward the door, out of the room. Kael followed, his expression blank, and Cade stayed just a moment longer, his gaze meeting mine. For a second, I thought he might say something, offer some explanation, some shred of clarity but he just shook his head slightly and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I stood frozen, my hands still gripping the dress, my mind replaying the scene over and over. Liora’s tear-streaked face. Zane’s cruel smirk. Kael’s sharp words. Cade’s quiet restraint. And the way they’d all left without a single word of explanation, as if I didn’t deserve one.

I was married to them. Bound to them. And yet, they felt nothing for me. No warmth, no connection, no bond. The word "mate" felt like a chain around my neck, tightening with every breath. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong with them.

Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and painful, as I turned to the full-length mirror across the room. My reflection stared back at me, a stranger in a half-fallen wedding gown, her face hopeless and her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. The lace of the dress was crumpled where I’d gripped it, the delicate fabric creased and out of place, just like me. I watched as a single tear rolled down my cheek, then another, until they were falling freely and unstoppable. I didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

I was alone. Truly, utterly alone.

Shortly, a sudden sound broke through my thoughts. It was a low, angry groan from outside, followed by a thud sound of something being struck hard again and again and again. My head snapped toward the window, my tears momentarily forgotten as I hurried to pull the dress back into place, securing it as best I could with trembling hands. The noises from the outside grew louder, more distinct, coming from the training field just beyond the manor’s walls.

Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me toward the window. I crossed the room in a few quick steps and leaned against the windowsill, peering out into the fading light of the evening. The training field stretched out below, a wide expanse of packed dirt and scattered equipment, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

Then my eyes fell on a young man standing in the center of the field, his back to me as he drove his fists into a heavy leather punching bag. His movements were relentless, each strike landing with a force that made the bag swing wildly. Sweat glistened on his bare shoulders, his muscles taut and defined as he moved. His dark hair was damp, clinging to the back of his neck, and his breaths came in sharp, controlled bursts, punctuated by the occasional frustrated growl from the punches.

He was alone, completely focused. I couldn’t see his face, but something about his presence drew my attention and held it. He was young, maybe the same age as the triplets, early twenties at most, but there was a hardness to him, a quiet intensity that set him apart.

I leaned closer to the window, my breath fogging the glass, my fingers tightening on the sill. My mind raced with questions of his identity and before I could dwell so much on my questions, he paused mid-strike, his hands falling to his sides. Suddenly, he turned towards my direction as if sensing my gaze.

His eyes met mine.