THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

**Evangeline's POV**
The vision hits me at three in the morning.
I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to forget the sound of laughter that followed me home from school. The video has been shared thousands of times now, each repost adding another layer to my humiliation. But when sleep finally comes, it brings something worse than memory.
I see fire. Not the gentle flames of the candles that lit themselves in my room, but hungry fire that devours everything in its path. The moon hangs above it all, burning like a second sun, its silver light turned to molten gold.
And in the center of the flames stands a wolf.
But this isn't just any wolf. This one wears a crown of stars that pulse with ancient power. Its eyes burn the same color as the moon above, and when it looks at me, I feel recognition stir in my chest. I know this wolf. I've always known this wolf.
It opens its mouth to speak, and its voice is the sound of wind through ancient trees.
"The blood remembers," it says. "The truth calls. The daughter must find what was lost."
I try to ask what it means, but the vision shifts. Now I see a woman standing in a circle of standing stones, her arms raised toward the burning moon. She has my face, but older, more weathered. Sadder.
"Mother," I whisper, and somehow I know this is true.
She turns to me, and tears stream down her face. "I'm sorry, my daughter. I'm so sorry for what I had to do."
"What did you do?" I reach for her, but she's already fading.
"Find the truth," she says. "Before it's too late. Before they find you."
The vision ends abruptly, leaving me gasping and covered in sweat. My hands shake as I reach for the lamp, flooding my room with harsh light. But the image of the crowned wolf burns behind my eyes, and I can still hear my mother's voice echoing in my head.
*Find the truth.*
But what truth? And how am I supposed to find anything when I don't even know where to start?
I sit up in bed, my heart pounding. The journal Maeve gave me lies open beside me, its pages fluttering in a breeze that doesn't exist. As I watch, the pages turn themselves, stopping on a section I haven't read before.
The writing is in a language I don't recognize, but somehow I understand every word:
*"When the moon burns and the crown calls, the lost daughter will seek what was hidden. Blood calls to blood, and truth cannot stay buried forever."*
Blood calls to blood. The words hit me like a physical blow. I think about the woman in my vision, the one who looked like me but wasn't quite right. The one who called herself my mother but felt like a stranger.
What if she wasn't my mother? What if everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie?
I'm out of bed and moving before I fully realize what I'm doing. My hands shake as I dig through the small box of belongings that came with me to this apartment. Birth certificate, social security card, school records. All the paperwork that makes up a life.
But as I spread the documents across my bed, I notice something I never saw before. The birth certificate is wrong. The edges are too clean, the paper too new. And when I hold it up to the light, I can see faint lines where information was erased and rewritten.
My stomach drops. This isn't real. This birth certificate is fake.
Which means everything I thought I knew about myself is fake too.
I spend the next hour tearing my room apart, looking for anything that might tell me who I really am. But there's nothing. No photos, no letters, no evidence of the life I supposedly lived before coming to the Cross household.
It's like Evangeline Cross didn't exist until the day she turned five years old.
The thought makes me want to scream. I've been living a lie my entire life. Everyone around me knew more about who I was than I did. Even my name might not be real.
But if I'm not Evangeline, then who am I?
The answer comes to me like a whisper in the dark: *Lunara.*
That's the name the white wolf called me. The name that feels more real than anything else in my life. The name that makes my soul sing when I hear it.
I am Lunara. I have always been Lunara. Everything else is just costume and pretense.
But that still doesn't tell me who my real parents were. Why I was hidden. Why someone went to so much trouble to erase my past.
I need answers. And I know exactly where to find them.
The Cross family home sits empty on the edge of town, exactly as I left it after the funeral. I haven't been back since that day five years ago when I packed my few belongings and moved into the small apartment the state provided. The thought of returning to that house, with all its memories and secrets, has always felt too overwhelming.
But now I need to know. I need to understand what they were hiding from me all these years.
The key still works, though the lock sticks from years of disuse. The door swings open with a creak that echoes through the empty hallway, and immediately I'm hit with the smell of dust and old memories. Everything is exactly as we left it. Elena Cross's favorite chair by the window. Marcus Cross's reading glasses still sitting on the kitchen table.
My adoptive parents. The people who raised me, loved me, protected me in ways I'm only beginning to understand.
I head straight for Marcus's study, the room I was never allowed to enter as a child. "Too many important papers," Elena used to say. "Too dangerous for little hands."
Now I understand what she meant.
The filing cabinet is locked, but my abilities make short work of the mechanism. Inside, I find exactly what I'm looking for. A thick folder labeled "Lunara - Emergency Protocols."
My hands shake as I pull it out and spread the contents across Marcus's desk.
The adoption papers are right there on top, but they tell a different story than I expected. These aren't adoption papers for a stranger's child. They're guardianship documents for the five-year-old daughter of Marcus Cross's closest friend and comrade.
*Alexander Kane.*
The biological father is listed as Alexander Kane. The adoptive father is Marcus Cross. And there's a note at the bottom, written in Marcus's careful handwriting: *"Alex's final request - protect Lunara at all costs. Use binding protocols until she's old enough to understand the truth."*
My hands shake as I read the details. Marcus Cross wasn't just some random person who adopted me. He was my father's best friend. His comrade. His brother-in-arms.
And when my real parents died, he stepped in to honor a promise.
I keep reading, and each page reveals more of the truth I've been searching for. There's a letter, written in a shaking hand that I recognize as Marcus's:
*"Elena and I never planned to have children, but Alex made me promise. If anything happened to him and Miriam, we would take Lunara and keep her safe. The child shows signs of incredible power - both bloodlines manifesting stronger than anyone predicted. We've consulted with the local witch covens. The only way to protect her is complete identity suppression until she's mature enough to control her abilities."*
Identity suppression. They created Evangeline Cross from nothing, erasing every trace of Lunara Blackthorne. Not to control me, but to hide me from people who would use or kill me for my power.
Unusual abilities. Identity suppression. Power suppression.
I wasn't just adopted. I was hidden. Someone powerful enough to forge documents and erase histories decided that Lunara Blackthorne was too dangerous to exist as herself.
But why? What was so dangerous about a five-year-old girl that she had to disappear completely?
The answer is in the next document. A detailed report that makes my blood run cold.
*Subject displays advanced abilities far beyond normal parameters. Exhibits signs of precognitive awareness and unusual connection to lunar cycles. Most concerning: subject's wolf appears to be far more powerful than typical for her age. Daily suppression rituals required to maintain control.*
They knew. The people who adopted me knew exactly what I was. They knew I had powers, and they took me in. But not just to protect me.
To suppress me.
I keep reading, and each page reveals more. Medical records showing regular treatments with something called "lunar binding herbs." Detailed notes about suppression rituals performed monthly. Reports on my behavior, carefully monitoring for any signs of my abilities breaking through.
They were helping me. But they were also keeping me contained.
But it's one document that changes everything. A letter, written in my adoptive father's handwriting, dated just days before the car accident.
*"The suppression isn't holding anymore. She's getting stronger despite everything we do. The herbs aren't working, and the binding rituals only last a few days now. We need help. Elena thinks we should tell her the truth, but it's too dangerous. If they find out who she really is... Marcus."*
The truth. They were trying to protect me, not control me. And my adoptive father died before he could tell me what I needed to know.
But there's more. A medical report from the night of the accident that makes my heart stop:
*"Marcus Sullivan died protecting subject from unknown attackers. Elena Sullivan suffered memory damage from magical trauma. Subject unharmed but showing signs of power surge. Recommend immediate relocation and increased suppression protocols."*
My adoptive father died protecting me. Someone attacked us, and he gave his life to keep me safe. And my adoptive mother... her memory was damaged. She might not even remember who I really am.
But who? And why?
The answer comes from the very last document in the folder. A handwritten note, unsigned but written in the same careful script as the adoption papers:
*"The daughter of Miriam Silvermoon and Alexander Blackthorne must be protected at all costs. Her bloodlines carry unprecedented power - blessed wolf heritage from both sides. If she awakens fully, she could change everything. The Cross family has agreed to use binding magic to keep her abilities dormant until she's strong enough to survive the truth."*
My real parents. Miriam Silvermoon and Alexander Blackthorne.
The names hit me like lightning. My father's surname. Blackthorne. That's who I really am. Lunara Blackthorne.
I've never heard these names before, but something about them makes my wolf howl with recognition. Like she's been waiting her whole life to hear them spoken.
I pull out my phone and start searching. The internet is full of information about Alexander Blackthorne, but none of it tells the whole story. He was an Alpha, that much is clear. But the articles call him disgraced, a rebel who challenged the council's authority.
The more I read, the more I understand. He wasn't a criminal. He was a reformer who tried to change a corrupt system. A man who spoke out against the abuse of power. Who died because he refused to bow to tyrants.
Miriam Silvermoon is even more mysterious, but what I find makes my breath catch. The Silvermoon bloodline - one of the most powerful seer families in recorded history. Wolf-born oracles who could see across time itself.
*"Miriam Silvermoon, last daughter of the Moon-Blessed bloodline, was known for her extraordinary prophetic abilities and healing gifts. She disappeared shortly after her mate's execution, heavily pregnant with their child. Her body was never found, leading many to believe she died in hiding while protecting her unborn daughter."*
Unborn daughter. Me.
I am Lunara Blackthorne, daughter of Alexander Blackthorne and Miriam Silvermoon. I carry not one but two of the most powerful bloodlines in werewolf history. I am the child they died trying to protect.
And my adoptive parents spent years using magic to keep me from knowing who I really was. Not to harm me, but to keep me safe until I was strong enough to handle the truth.
But as I try to process this revelation, something strange happens. The filing cabinet behind me starts to rattle, its metal frame vibrating against the wall. The air in the study grows thick and heavy, like the moments before a storm.
I turn around slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. The cabinet's lock, the one I opened so easily with my abilities, now glows with silver light. Ancient symbols burn across its surface, symbols I've never seen before but somehow understand.
A warning. A spell that activates when the truth is discovered.
My knees hit the floor before I realize I'm falling. The file slides from my fingers as understanding crashes over me. My parents died for me - and I never even knew their names until this moment.
But the magical lock was more than just protection. It was a signal.
Someone, somewhere, just learned that Lunara Blackthorne has discovered who she really is.
But I'm not hidden anymore. The suppression magic is failing, and I'm getting stronger every day.
The question is: what am I going to do with that strength?
I think about my real parents, both dead because they dared to challenge the system. I think about my adoptive father, who died protecting me from people who wanted to use my power. I think about my adoptive mother, whose memory was damaged trying to keep me safe. I think about the years of suppression, the binding magic, the careful lies told to protect me.
I think about Celeste and her cruel laughter, about Ronan and his cowardly choices, about teachers who do nothing while students suffer.
I think about a world where power means the right to hurt others, where the strong prey on the weak, where truth is buried beneath layers of lies and control.
And I realize that the choice Maeve talked about - between light and dark, between healing and destruction - isn't really a choice at all.
It's a question of method.
I'm going to tear this world apart. I'm going to expose every lie, challenge every tyrant, and make sure that no one else has to suffer the way I have.
But I'm not going to do it out of revenge.
I'm going to do it out of love. Love for the parents who died protecting me. Love for the adoptive parents who sacrificed everything to keep me safe. Love for the girl I used to be, before the world tried to break her. Love for everyone who's ever been told they don't matter, who's ever been pushed down and told to stay there.
I am Lunara Blackthorne. I am the daughter of Alexander Blackthorne and Miriam Silvermoon. I carry two of the most powerful bloodlines in werewolf history. I am the child that Marcus Cross died protecting, honoring a promise to his dearest friend.
And I am done hiding.
The full moon is in four days. When it rises, I won't just be ready.
I'll be inevitable.
A soft crackling sound makes me freeze. Behind me, the pages of the adoption file curl inward - blackening as if touched by fire, though no flame burns. The smell of smoke fills the room, but it's not the scent of burning paper.
It's the scent of magic destroying evidence.
One word forms in the ashes, written in silver letters that glow for just a moment before fading.
RUN.
My wolf snarls in warning, every instinct screaming danger. The magical lock on the filing cabinet pulses brighter, and I realize with growing horror that it wasn't just a warning spell.
It was a beacon.
The crowned wolf from my vision howls in the distance - no longer a dream, but a voice I hear with my waking mind. Deep and ancient and filled with urgency.
Someone knows I found the truth.
And now... they're coming for me.