Novels by Moonchild

Dear Readers, I can’t believe we’ve reached the end of Kelly’s story. Writing this book has been an emotional rollercoaster, and I know many of you have felt the highs and lows just as deeply as I have. Kelly’s journey wasn’t easy, there was pain, heartbreak, and moments where it seemed like happiness was out of reach. But through it all, she found strength, love, and a future worth fighting for. To everyone who stuck by this story, who cried, laughed, and rooted for Kelly, Aiden, Adrian, and even the complicated characters like Anderson and Kate, thank you. Your love and support mean everything. Though this book has ended, Kelly’s story will always live on in our hearts. And who knows? Maybe one day, there will be more to tell. But for now, I hope this ending brings you the closure and warmth that Kelly fought so hard to find. With love and gratitude, MOONCHILD.

Kelly The sun is warm against my skin, the sky a perfect colour of blue. A soft breeze carries the scent of roses and fresh-cut grass. The sound of distant laughter and murmured conversations fills the air, blending seamlessly with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere nearby. It’s perfect. Everything about this day feels surreal, like stepping into a dream I never dared to imagine. A real wedding. Not a hidden ceremony. Not a desperate attempt to silence rumors. Just love. I close my eyes for a brief moment, taking it all in. The gentle rustling of the trees. The faint sound of conversation. The quiet presence of everyone who matters. Adrian’s family is here. After months of resentment and distance, they came. His mother, his father, Olivia, both watching with cautious but genuine smiles. Susan is here, standing with them, her expression warm, proud. And in the distance, I see Aiden straightening his suit, looking nervous and determined at the same time. Harper,

KellyNine months. Nine long, exhausting, emotional months. And now, I’m here. In a hospital bed, drenched in sweat, gripping Adrian’s hand so tightly that I’m sure I’ve cut off his circulation. My body feels like it’s being torn apart, and yet, I push. “Just a little more, Kelly!” the doctor encourages. Easy for them to say. They aren’t the ones feeling like their body is being split open. Adrian leans close, his lips brushing my forehead. “You’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice steady, calming. “I’ve got you.” Tears sting my eyes. I don’t know if it’s from the pain or the overwhelming feeling that this moment is actually happening. And then, a sharp cry fills the room. My breath catches. The world seemed to stop. The doctor lifts a tiny, wriggling body into the air. “It’s a girl!” A sob escapes me. I collapse back against the pillows, my whole body trembling. Tears slip down my temples as I hear my daughter’s first sounds. I did it. She’s here. Adrian presses a

Kelly The morning is cold, the kind of D.C winter chill that seeps through the layers of your clothes and lingers deep in your bones. I clutch my coffee cup tighter, trying to soak in the warmth as I step out of the café. The city is alive as always, cars honking, people hurrying past, lost in their own worlds. And then I see her. At first, I didn't recognize the figure crouched near the side of the building, wrapped in an oversized hoodie, the fabric frayed at the edges. Her hair is tangled, falling over a gaunt face. Her fingers, red from the cold, clutch a small cardboard sign. ‘Hungry. Please help.’My breath catches. Kate. She’s thinner than I remember. A shell of the woman she once was. She sits with her knees pulled close, gaze darting to every passerby, but no one stops. No one even looks at her. And I realize, this is what rock bottom looks like. For a long moment, I just stood there. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I move. She doesn’t notice me at fir

Kelly It happens on a quiet afternoon. Adrian and I are sitting on the couch, Harper curled up between us, absentmindedly flipping through a picture book while Adrian scrolls through emails on his phone. It’s peaceful. And then, I see his posture stiffen. I glance at him. “What’s wrong?” His brows are furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as he reads whatever message is on his screen. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he exhales, setting the phone down on his thigh. “My parents,” he says, rubbing his jaw. “They want to talk.” I blink. I wasn’t expecting that. “Talk… as in?” “As in dinner. A sit-down conversation.” He shakes his head slightly, as if he’s still processing it himself. “They sent an invitation. No conditions. Just… a request to see me.” I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. His parents and I became a sore subject, one of the few places where his love for me had cost him something. I know how deeply it hurt him when they rej

KellyThe call came in the middle of the night. I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. My first thought is that it’s Adrian, maybe he’s checking in from the living room where he sometimes falls asleep after reading. But when I grab my phone and see Susan’s name glowing on the screen, my stomach twists. I answer on the second ring. “He’s gone,” she says softly. Two words. Just two words, and for a second, I feel absolutely nothing. I sit there in the dark, the phone pressed to my ear, my mind blank. I should have expected it, Anderson’s health had been failing, and yet… hearing it, knowing it’s real, knowing there will never be another word, another regret-filled gaze, it’s different. Susan stays quiet, as if she knows I needed a moment. Then, like a wave finally crashing, it hits. A sharp, aching weight pressing down on my chest. My throat tightens, my vision blurs, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, choked sob. I feel Adrian shift be

I know some of you have been impatient, waiting, hoping, and silently rooting for Eloise from the very beginning. You saw her broken, you saw her fight, you saw her lose, and yet you stayed, turning each page, holding your breath, waiting for her to finally get her moment. This story wasn’t meant to be rushed. Eloise’s journey was never about instant happiness, but about clawing her way through betrayal, heartbreak, revenge, and resilience. Every tear, every scream, every whispered “I can’t anymore” was building toward this ending. To those who loved Eloise fiercely, thank you. To those who hated her at times but couldn’t stop reading — thank you. To those who sent me messages like “When will she finally win?!” I heard you, I felt your impatience, but I promise it made this ending sweeter. This isn’t just a love story. It’s survival. It’s revenge. It’s healing. It’s proof that broken doesn’t mean defeated. And now, Eloise finally has her victory. She has her freedom. She has her lov

Eloise I leaned back in my office chair, staring at the glowing computer screen but not truly seeing it. Numbers blurred into meaningless shapes, emails stacked in neat, demanding rows. The quiet tick of the clock on the wall was the only rhythm in the room, and still I couldn’t shake the restless thrum in my chest. It had been a month since everything, since the final confrontation, since Lucian had been cut clean out of my life, since the venom of betrayal stopped coursing through every breath I took. A month since Damon’s last failed attempt to claw his way into control. A month of rediscovering silence. A month of relearning who I was without constantly looking over my shoulder. But grief had a way of leaving footprints on your soul. Some mornings I woke up light, unshackled, free. Other mornings, I carried the old ghosts. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips against my temple. Just five minutes of peace, I told myself. Five minutes before diving back into quarterly repo

Eloise It had been days since Mike came to me with his apology, days of me tossing on my bed, clutching my pillow, wondering if forgiveness was too generous a word to give a man who had once gambled with my trust. The air in my house had grown stale from replaying the same memories: the sting of Damon’s words, the confusion that crawled into my heart, and Mike’s face when he admitted what happened years ago. I couldn’t carry it alone anymore. My pride was starting to feel heavier than my heart. So I picked up my phone and dialed the one person who never sugarcoated anything. “Ava,” I breathed when she answered. “You sound like a storm about to break,” she said, her tone already bracing for confession. “Can you come over? I…I need you.” She didn’t ask why. “Give me twenty minutes.” By the time she arrived, I had already made tea, though neither of us touched it once we sat at the kitchen table. Ava leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her expression the mix of friend and

Eloise – First Person POV The steam from my shower still clung to my skin, wrapping me in its lingering warmth as I padded barefoot across the hardwood floor of my apartment. Droplets slipped down my collarbone and disappeared into the neckline of my silk robe. My hair, damp and heavy, clung to my shoulders. For weeks, my mornings had begun like this, quiet, steady, predictable. Peaceful, people would call it. They didn’t know how silence could sometimes be the loudest noise in the room. Peace had returned, yes. The atelier glimmered again, its glass walls spotless, its display cases brimming with new designs that bore only my name. My funds were back in my hands, and contracts that had once been ripped from me were signed anew under Eloise Laurent, my rebranded name. Every magazine headline called me a survivor, a fighter, the woman who rebuilt herself from the ashes. And yet, not one of those glittering titles filled the void Mike had carved into me. Every time I let my thoughts

Eloise The next day…. I sat on the second row, hands folded over the leather strap of my purse, listening to the shuffle of shoes, the murmured chatter, and the squeak of pens dragging against notepads. It had been trial after trial, one courtroom after another, and my body had grown used to this place, almost as if my ribs had sprouted their own wooden benches. I didn’t mind. No, not anymore. So far every soul that had left scars on me, physical, emotional, spiritual, had been made to choke down their share of the poison they brewed. Today would be no different. Today belonged to Jennifer. She stood at the front, just beyond the polished oak barrier that separated the public from the professionals. She was thinner than before, her once-gleaming blonde hair dulled and tied in a hasty knot. She had tried to wear confidence like a perfume, but it didn’t stick. Her navy suit hung on her as though it belonged to someone else, someone more solid. She kept her chin tilted, eyes darting

Eloise I never expected victory to feel like this. Not light. Not triumphant. It was heavy, like dragging a chest of gold through mud, valuable, priceless, but soaked in sweat and grit, with bruises carved into my palms. I was close to the parking lot when my phone buzzed, once, then again. My lawyer’s name flashed across the screen. “Eloise,” I murmured to myself, steadying my breath, “this is it.” I answered. “Yes?” “Don’t leave yet.” His voice carried a pulse of electricity. “Something came in encrypted files from one of Lucian’s accountants. He cracked. We’ve got everything.” My throat tightened. “Everything?” “Everything he thought he buried. Offshore accounts, dummy corporations, cash slush funds. He hid properties under aliases, even tried to move shares into shell holdings. It’s all here.” The world stilled around me. The hum of people walking by, the echo of doors opening, the shuffle of case files, all of it dimmed until only the sound of my own heartbeat remained.

Dear Readers, To everyone who read this story, whether you followed from the beginning, joined halfway, or just stumbled across it — thank you. This book was more than just chapters and words for me; it was a journey of self-discovery, of learning to write through fear, a different genre, and of watching these characters grow with me. I know we live in a world full of stories, and the fact that you chose to spend time with mine means everything. To every single reader who clicked, added, or commented, you gave me the courage to finish. This might not be the most popular book out there, but it will always be special to me — because it’s proof that even the cursed can find their light, that broken people can heal, and that every ending is really the start of something new. So, from the bottom of my heart: thank you for walking through Blackwood Academy with Zara, Jace, Alex, and Zarek. Their story has ended — but maybe one day, we’ll meet them again.

Zara’s POV Today, we were leaving. Below me, students hurried back and forth in pressed uniforms, their shoes clicking on the cobblestones. Laughter echoed from the courtyard. Somewhere near the east wing, someone was already taking pictures, the sharp clicks of cameras punctuating the air. I blinked, almost in disbelief. It’s real. This is it. It felt impossible that the semesters had gone by so quickly. I remembered the first time I walked through these very gates, small and tensed, clutching my bag as if it were a shield. A knock came at the door again, snapping me from my thoughts. “Zara, are you ready or do I have to drag you out?” Alex’s voice rang sharp as ever, but softer beneath it was the tremor of excitement. I smiled. “Two minutes.” “Make it one,” she shot back. I took one last look at the room that had been mine for years. The bed I’d cried in. The desk covered with old notes and textbooks. The window where I had stared out countless nights, wishing to b

Zara’s POV The morning after graduation broke softer than I expected. No loud bells, no rushing feet down the dormitory hallways, no announcements echoing through the Academy speakers. Just silence. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, but full—like the world was holding its breath for something new. I stood by my window, the curtains brushing against my arm as a breeze slipped inside. The sky was painted with faint streaks of gold and rose, the sun just beginning to stretch its light across the grounds. For once, I didn’t feel the familiar weight pressing down on me, the whisper of curses or shadows from the past. For the first time in years, I felt like myself. I closed my eyes, listening to the stillness. My wolf stirred within, steady and calm, not snarling for control, not raging at boundaries. And beneath her, deep and powerful, my dragon hummed, warm and endless. For so long, I had thought they were warring sides of me—beast against beast, curse against curse. But ma

Jace’s POV The courtyard was still buzzing with the aftershock of graduation—Caps lay abandoned on the grass. But all I could see was her. “Zara.” My voice came rougher than I wanted. She turned, her smile softening when she looked at me, then flicking into suspicion like it always did when it was me. “What? Did you forget to throw your cap?” I huffed a laugh. “Come with me.” Her brows lifted. “That sounds like kidnapping, Jace.” “Please.” Just one word, and it cracked something in me. For once, she didn’t argue. She let me take her hand, and I led her past the chatter, around the side of the building where the noise dulled and only the faint smell of fresh-cut grass lingered. Here, it was quiet enough that my pulse sounded like a drumbeat in my ears. I stopped beneath an old oak, the shadow stretching over us. She tilted her head, waiting. “So?” The words I rehearsed all morning—the smooth, perfect confession I thought I’d give her—vanished. Instead, silence strangled me. I

Zara’s POV The ceremony ended in a blur. Families surged forward, cameras flashing, voices rising in celebration. I had barely stepped off the stage before Alex barreled into me, wrapping her arms so tightly around my waist that the breath left my lungs. “You did it!” she cried, her braid smacking me in the cheek as she squeezed. “Mira Blackwood, the cursed hybrid who defied fate. That’s going on your résumé now.” I laughed, muffled against her shoulder. “Not exactly résumé material.” “Shut up, it is. You’re basically legendary.” “Legendary pain in the ass, maybe,” Zarek muttered, sliding into our circle. His smirk softened into something else when his gaze flicked to me. “But hey—at least you didn’t trip crossing the stage. I almost placed a bet you would.” “Wow, thanks for the faith,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. Jace appeared then, slower, steadier, his smile quiet but warm. He held my gaze as he spoke. “You walked like you were meant to be there, Zara. That’s all that matt

Zara’s POV The sun rose soft and golden that morning, painting the Academy in light instead of shadows. For weeks I had grown used to smoke-choked skies, broken walls, and the feeling of fear. But today, the world dared to look beautiful again. The courtyard had been scrubbed clean, marble floors polished until they gleamed. Silver banners rippled in the breeze, their embroidered crests catching the sunlight like mirrors. Vases of lilac and white roses lined the stage, their fragrance floating on the air, mixing with the warmth of summer. It was so strange, this shift—after fire and chaos, after blood staining these same stones, the Academy stood dressed like a bride for her final vow. And so did we. . I smoothed my robe, the deep blue fabric whispering around me as I walked. Underneath, I wore a simple white dress my Mom had sent—soft satin with a lace neckline, not flashy but clean, pure, and mine. My hair fell in waves down my back, pinned with a small silver comb. I hadn’t bo

Dear Readers, This book has been the hardest story I’ve ever written. There were moments when I felt completely lost, wondering if the story I was writing even made sense, and yet, through every twist, turn, and late-night writing session, I pushed forward because of you, because of the characters you’ve grown to care about alongside me. I won’t pretend that finishing it won’t feel bittersweet. I’ve laughed, cried, and sometimes doubted myself, but now that it’s complete, I hope you feel the depth, the love, the heartbreak, and the joy I tried to pour into every page. Writing this story has been exhausting, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once, and while I may not miss the struggles, I will always treasure the world we created together. Thank you for sticking with me, for believing in Elvira, Jaxon, Deric, and all of Morrien. I hope you love this ending as much as I’ve loved writing it for you.

Elvira The night air carried a delicate hush, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. Moonlight spilled over the rolling countryside, brushing the treetops with silver and illuminating the small gathering outside the courtyard. A low fire flickered in the stone hearth, sending shadows dancing across the grass, and the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted herbs mingled with the earthy perfume of the forest. Elyra sat on the wooden swing I’d pushed gently earlier, her rounded belly swaddled in a soft, cream-colored shawl. Kale crouched nearby, his fingers tracing absent patterns over the edge of the fire pit as he murmured stories about the pack’s history. His deep voice carried a calm certainty, a reminder that despite all the chaos of the past months, life had a rhythm worth savoring. Tonight, though, the conversation circled around joy rather than tension, laughter threading the air as Elyra tried to guess the gender of the little life moving within her. I

Elvira TWO DAYS LATER… The moment the words left my lips, I felt the room tilt on its axis. My hands were trembling slightly, though I tried to steady them by pressing them against the wooden wardrobe. “Jaxon… I’m pregnant.” He froze, mid-step, his broad shoulders stiffening like a statue. I could see it in the way his dark eyes widened, that brief, raw flash of disbelief, then something softer, almost luminous, bloomed across his face. A smile, hesitant at first, then unrestrained. It was as though the world had narrowed until it existed only for the space between us. “Pregnant?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, and yet it carried the weight of wonder, of disbelief, of joy too profound for words. He stepped closer, each movement measured, cautious, as though approaching something fragile, sacred. “El… you’re… ours?” I nodded, laughter spilling through the small tremor in my chest. “Ours,” I confirmed, my voice catching on the syllable. And the truth was, it didn’t feel

Elvira The Bloodmoon countryside stretched before me, a landscape of muted deep, sleepy greens. The wind whispered through the rolling fields, carrying the faint scent of late summer flowers. I gripped the car wheels tighter, my pulse quickening with every mile closer to Father’s house. I hadn’t been sure I would come. Not until I confirmed that Felen had no way of reaching him, that her venomous curiosity wouldn’t taint what little serenity remained in his days. I remembered the chaos that had followed her disappearance, the rumors, the hunts, the betrayal, how close everything had been to slipping through our fingers. I had survived that storm with Jaxon at my side, and now, here I was, seeking silence in a house that belonged to a man whose mind had begun to betray him. The car came to a stop over the gravel, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence of the countryside, and I wondered if Father was awake, if he remembered who I was. The house came into view, a modest structure s

Deric The waning moon cast a pale, silvery light across Morrien, softening the edges of the pack’s compound yet leaving long shadows in the corners. Even now, after some of Felen’s spies had been dealt with, the residue of unease lingered. I walked slowly, my boots crunching over frost-hardened leaves, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat. I had a destination in mind, though my steps faltered the closer I got: Elvira’s quarters. I stopped outside the door, listening for any sign of her. Nothing. The faint scent of lavender drifted through the partially open window, familiar and grounding, yet it made the knots in my chest tighten. “Deric?” Her voice, calm yet sharp, drew my attention. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze cautious. “You wanted to see me?” I swallowed, suddenly aware of how stiff I probably looked. “Yeah. I… I thought we should talk,” I said, my voice uneven despite my best effort to sound steady. She didn’t step back, just tilted her he

Jaxon First-Person POV The morning sun filtered through the towering windows of the council hall, casting long streaks of gold across the stone floors. I stood at the head of the room, surveying the faces of my pack: weary but attentive, some skeptical, others cautiously optimistic. After the chaos of betrayals, attacks, and power plays, Morrien needed direction, and it was my responsibility to provide it. Celina stood near the back, her arms crossed, her usual sharp expression softened just slightly by the events that had passed. For months, she had watched me, questioned me, doubted me, and in her eyes I could see the wheels turning as she tried to reconcile the pack’s survival with the strength of our bonds. Including the one between Elvira and me. “Today, we begin a new chapter,” I started, letting my voice carry over the murmurs. “In the past month we’ve grown past the fear that once enveloped us. We’ve rebuilt—not as individuals, but as a pack.” A few heads nodded, a ripple