The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Aria’s POV

The moment Victor finished speaking, I grabbed my phone and called my assistant. "Book me on the next available flight. I don’t care where it goes, just get me as close as possible."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone steady.

Every rational thought in my head had been consumed by a single, overwhelming need—I had to find Damian. Now.

Rick’s evasive answers. The calls that went straight to voicemail. The gnawing feeling in my gut that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

It all made sense now.

And I couldn’t breathe.

"Aria—" Victor started, but I was already on my feet, swaying slightly as the blood rushed from my head.

The room tilted. I gripped the edge of the table, forcing myself to stay upright.

"You need to calm down," Victor said gently, standing as well. His voice was careful, measured. "I only heard rumors. There’s a chance he’s already been found. The Blackwoods are handling it—"

"Then why isn’t anyone answering their phones?" My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. How desperate.

I tried to steady my breathing, but my chest felt like it was caving in. My eyes burned, tears threatening to spill over, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop them.

Victor didn’t answer. He just watched me with something that looked almost like pity.

I couldn’t stand it.

"I have to go," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"You’re in no condition to drive." Victor’s tone was firm now. "Let me take you to the airport."

I wanted to argue, but he was right. My legs felt like they might give out at any second, and my vision kept blurring at the edges.

So I nodded.

---

The car ride was a blur.

I tried calling Grace. Her phone was off.

I tried Elena. Same thing.

My fingers trembled as I pulled up Rick’s number again, but before I could press call, Victor spoke.

"The Blackwood family probably got word and went to him," he said quietly, eyes on the road. "They wouldn’t want to worry you until they had more information."

I dug my nails into my palm, hard enough to draw blood.

*They wouldn’t want to worry me.*

Victor glanced over at me, and I saw his expression shift—concern, maybe even regret.

"Aria, I know this is hard, but you need to pull yourself together," he said carefully. "You’re still the CEO of V&A Group. The pharmaceutical launch is in two days. If you leave now—"

"I know." My voice came out flat, distant.

I knew exactly what I was risking.

This launch was the culmination of a decade of research and development. Investors were counting on it. The board was watching me like hawks, waiting for me to slip up so they could tear me apart.

And I was about to walk away.

But I couldn’t stop myself.

"Victor," I said, forcing my eyes to focus on him. "I need you to do something for me."

He looked at me warily. "What is it?"

"I need you to oversee the launch. I’ll transfer signing authority to you before I board the plane." My voice was steadier now, even though my hands were still shaking. "If anything goes wrong—anything at all—you contact me immediately."

Victor’s jaw tightened. "Aria—"

"Please." The word came out broken, desperate. "You’re the only one I can trust right now. You’re family. You have a stake in this too."

He let out a long breath, then nodded. "I’ll do it."

"Thank you." I managed a weak smile, though I knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

The car pulled up to the airport terminal. My assistant Jennifer was already waiting outside, clutching a tablet and looking frazzled.

I fumbled with my seatbelt, my fingers clumsy and uncooperative. It took me three tries to get it undone.

Victor noticed. Of course he did.

"Aria," he said quietly.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, I saw something flash across his face—guilt, maybe. Or doubt.

But before he could say whatever he was thinking, I forced myself to speak.

"I’ll be fine," I lied. "Take care of the company for me."

Then I grabbed my bag and stumbled out of the car before he could stop me.

---

Jennifer fell into step beside me as I rushed through the terminal, her heels clicking rapidly against the tile floor.

"Ms. Smith, your flight boards in forty minutes," she said, barely keeping up. "I’ve arranged for priority boarding and—"

"Good. Thank you." I cut her off, not unkindly. I just couldn’t focus on logistics right now.

All I could think about was Damian.

Was he hurt? Was he conscious? Was he—

No.

I shoved the thought away violently, my nails biting deeper into my palms.

He was fine. He had to be fine.

We were almost at security when my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, expecting Damian or maybe Rick with a last-minute update.

But the number on the screen was unknown.

My heart lurched.

I stopped walking so abruptly that my assistant nearly crashed into me.

"Ms. Smith?" she asked, alarmed.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at the message that had just come through.

Unknown Number:[I know where Damian Blackwood is.]

My blood turned to ice.

Another message came through immediately after.

Unknown Number:[If you want to see him alive, come alone. I’ll send you the location. Tell no one.]

My breath caught in my throat.

This had to be a trap.

Every instinct I had was screaming at me not to respond, not to engage, not to do anything until I knew more.

But then the third message arrived.

Unknown Number:[Midnight. Old Ashford Mill, Route 47 past Crescent Lake. Don’t be late.]

I knew that area. It was a forty-minute drive outside the city, deep in Crescent Pack territory that had been abandoned years ago.

The mill had been shut down decades ago, left to rot in the middle of nowhere.

It was isolated. Remote.

The perfect place for an ambush.

But it was also the perfect place to hide someone.

My hands were trembling so badly now that I almost dropped my phone.

"Ms. Smith?" Jennifer’s voice was sharp with worry now. "Is everything okay?"

I forced myself to look up at her, my mind racing.

I should tell Luna Elena. I should tell Rick. Hell, I should call the police.

But the message had been clear.

*Come alone.*

And if I didn’t...

I couldn’t finish the thought.

"Change of plans," I said, my voice hollow. "Cancel the flight."

Jennifer blinked. "What? But—"

"Just do it." I turned and started walking back toward the exit, my legs moving on autopilot.

I didn’t know who had sent that message.

I didn’t know if Damian was really there.

But I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

I was going to that mill.

And I was going alone.