Chapter 8- A Curse in the Shape of a Blessing

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• The Lost Luna’s Return   CHAPTER 47: Threads of the Moon

  Zoey's POVI don’t wait for either of them. I asked them both to come, but something deeper than logic pulls me forward. It’s like a tether wrapped around my spine, guiding me across the overgrown lawn of the once-glorious kingdom. With every step, memories flicker at the edges of my mind—the last time I held my brother’s hand, the last time our family laughed together before it all fell apart.I push the memories down, not allowing them to root. Not now. I need clarity, not chaos.The large double doors of the kingdom creak as I push them open. The stale scent of disuse and damp wood wraps around me as I step inside. My feet carry me, almost on instinct, to Alpha Alex’s old office—the place where so many decisions were made, including ones that changed the course of my life.The room is silent, suffocating, like it remembers every word ever yelled inside it. The scent of mildew clings to the corners, mixing with the faint hint of aged leather and old anger. I cross to the desk, the o

• The Lost Luna’s Return   Chapter 46 – The Look in Her Eyes

  Kieran’s POV I’m not sure what it was. Usually, when Ragnar comes forward like this, nothing stops him until there's a lifeless body—or bodies—at my feet. But this time… something does. Maybe it’s because the bag of bones I’m pummeling is someone I once called brother. Maybe it’s the memory of Zoey’s horrified face last time I lost control, that flash of fear in her eyes—of me. I swore to myself I wouldn’t let her look at me like that again. So I stop. Blood is streaming from Damon’s nose, slicking his face in crimson. It smears his teeth. Bruises bloom across his jaw like ink in water. Lucien and Raven hover nearby, caught between shock and relief. But Zoey—Zoey is nowhere to be seen. Not again. I don’t need to think. My feet are already moving, carrying me toward her like they’ve been waiting for this moment. I don’t know how, but somehow I know exactly where she is. Her voice slices through the quiet of the compound, frayed and trembling despite the calm she tries to wear l

• The Lost Luna’s Return   CHAPTER 45: The Weight of Truth

  Zoey’s POV Before I can blink, Kieran is on Damon—fist after fist slamming into him with the fury of a thunderstorm. His snarls cut through the silence, guttural and wild, like a beast unchained. I freeze, my breath catching. And suddenly, I’m back in the dungeon again. Not physically—but in memory. The last time I saw him like this. Unrecognizable. Savage. Consumed by rage. Back then, it terrified me. Now… now I feel it again. That same knot of fear tightening in my gut. My mate, the one who’s protected me, the one that makes me feel safe buried under something violent and primal. I don’t want to be afraid of him again. I can’t. I bolt from the room, the clash of bodies and the shout of voices growing faint behind me. Raven’s scream, Lucien’s growl—they're trying to pull Kieran off Damon, but I know it won’t work. Not until he decides to stop. My feet carry me away—away from the carnage, away from the weight of the accusation that had shattered the room. Not to my room, where

• The Lost Luna’s Return   Chapter 44 — Ashes Don’t Lie

  Kieran’s POV “Kieran. Kieran. KIERAN!” Lucien’s voice slices through the fog in my mind, snapping me out of the trance I didn’t know I was in. But even as I blink into focus, my gaze stays fixed on the body. The body. The same unmoving corpse Damon showed me days ago. The one we agreed was burned. Turned to ash. Disposed of. Yet here it lies again, sprawled across the blood-soaked earth like some horrific echo from a memory that refuses to stay buried. All around us, the murmurs and whispers die off like a wave retreating from shore. The crowd obeys instinctively when Lucien steps forward. “Alright, everyone inside. Now. Curfew’s in effect,” he calls out, voice firm. The pack members disperse quickly and silently, no resistance, no questions. They’ve seen enough to understand the weight of what this could mean. I can’t move. I can’t even breathe properly. Lucien stands next to me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Maybe it’s not what it looks like,” he offers quietly. “Maybe Cassia

• The Lost Luna’s Return   CHAPTER 43: Whispers Through the Flame

  Zoey’s POV Anders’s face remains unreadable, but the heavy silence between us speaks louder than any words could. “Why do you think so?” he finally asks, his voice calm, careful. “I think your brother put a protection spell on him,” I say, trying to steady my breath, trying to hold onto the quickly fading vision that lingers like smoke after fire. He nods slowly, flipping through the pages of his worn notepad, quill already in hand. “Tell me about the dream,” he says, already halfway through a scribble. I close my eyes, pulling the pieces of it from memory like tattered pages in the wind. “I saw the day of the explosion, the day my parents died, but Zach was nowhere to be found. Then the scene changed and I saw him—Zach. He looked young, maybe around five. Your brother was there. He said somethings and then... nothing. Zach was gone.” Anders hums at intervals, jotting rapidly, the candlelight catching the dark ink as it stains the paper. I watch his hands, but I can’t read the s

• The Lost Luna’s Return   CHAPTER 42 – Shadows Beneath the Sun

  Kieran’s POVWarmth wraps around me like a cloak as I lay in her bed, her breath a gentle rhythm against my chest. Her scent—beautiful blend of vanilla and a fresh cup of coffee with a twist of something powerful and something uniquely Zoey—lingers on the sheets, sinks into my skin, and settles in my bones. I want to freeze this moment. Burn it into my memory.Her words echo in my head like a vow."It’s you. I choose you."I don’t tell her that I heard it in my head—just like she hears Ragnar. She’s already burdened enough, trying to make sense of voices that aren't hers. One step at a time. I won’t risk pushing her back into that spiral.I glance down at her. She’s already asleep, her hand curled lightly over my ribs, her brow finally smooth. I close my eyes, her warmth grounding me, and for the first time in years, I sleep without dreaming of blood or guilt or ghosts.Morning comes slowly, gently.Early sunlight slips through the curtains, casting long golden streaks across the bed.