MoonRiver’s Broken Luna

The omega barracks were colder than memory.Lillieth had thought maybe she’d exaggerated it in her mind because fear does that — turns ugly into monstrous. But no. Her first breath inside tasted like rot and metal. The damp in the air felt alive. Mold crawled black and fuzzy in the corners where the stone met the warped wooden floor.They didn’t bother giving omegas real beds here. There were low cots crammed close together, thin mats stuffed with straw that had long ago flattened into something like woven burlap over bone. Some of them were stained dark — old blood, old sickness. The windows were just gaps in the stone with slats nailed across them, broken in places. Wind shoved its way in and stayed.She stood in the doorway for a long time and just… held her blanket and said nothing.The bond still burned inside her, raw and bright and wrong. It pulsed every few heartbeats like an injury that wouldn’t close. Every time it flared, she felt the absence of him. Felt him far. Felt him

LilliethThe first morning she was allowed into Alpha council, Lillieth felt like she was being walked toward execution.Not because Kade was dragging her — he wasn’t. He walked beside her, not behind, not in front. His hand didn’t touch her, but his presence was a wall and a warning all by itself.It was because of the door.Everyone in MoonRiver knew that door.Thick, dark wood. Reinforced. Claw marks that hadn’t been sanded out — not accidents, but messages. The scent of old anger and fresh strategy bled under the frame. Only ranked wolves and patrol leads ever went through it.Lillieth never had.Until now.Jane had braided Lillieth’s hair smooth and tight, pulling every glossy black strand into a long single coil that spilled down her back like night rope. She’d dressed her in a simple black dress that fit her instead of hanging off her, with long sleeves to hide her bruises and high collar to hide her throat. Nothing revealing. Nothing soft. She didn’t look like prey.That had b

LuxLux wasn’t important.He knew that. Everyone knew that.He wasn’t ranked. He wasn’t blood-tied to anyone who mattered. He wasn’t notorious like Tomas or groomed like Reed. He wasn’t pretty like Cassia or protected like Marla. He was a border guard from the east line with decent instincts and quiet steps — the kind of wolf who survived by seeing first, speaking last.He’d been pulled off ridge watch and told to run inner rounds with two others in case the Alpha needed runners.He did not expect to earn himself a death sentence before noon.He caught the scent first.Not her scent — that was the problem. He couldn’t smell her.What he smelled was wrong.Bitter smoke. Spell-burn. The sharp, acrid stink of herbs that didn’t belong underground.And under that, faint — too faint — blood.Female.Fear hit him so fast it made his stomach turn.He followed it down the service stairwell beneath the old training hall. Past the first level. Past the weapons storage. Farther than omegas were e

LilliethDeep under, where even sound couldn’t quite reach, something kept knocking.Knock.Knock.Knock.Not like fists on a door.More like a heartbeat against stone.It wasn’t hers.Hers was slow, steady, drug-heavy.This one was louder.Rougher.Angry.Alpha, her wolf whispered hoarse and frantic in the dark between wakes. Mate. Ours. Wake. Wake.But the rest of her was still drowning.Her body breathed. Her pulse held.Her mind clawed.Her wolf raged.Her eyes stayed closed.⭑Morning, Day ThreeIt was past dawn.Greta knew because she’d seen light shift in the slit of curtain Draven hadn’t bothered to close all the way — the part he left open just enough that if Lillieth opened her eyes, there’d be sun to see, not darkness.He’d done that without saying why.Greta had noticed anyway.Now, in that soft gray morning light, Lillieth lay exactly where they left her, in Draven’s bed, swallowed in one of his black Henleys, swaddled in blankets that held his heat and scent. Her bruises

Lillieth’s eyes stayed open.Not wide—light hurt, sound hurt, her own bones hurt—but open. Her pupils kept trying to decide whether to flee or focus, and every few breaths a tiny tremor ran through her fingers like her body testing the world for traps.Greta fed her three more swallows of water. “That’s it,” she said, firm, annoyed at the idea of gentleness while practicing it perfectly. “We go slow or you choke and I lose ten years of my life watching you turn purple.”Jane laughed-crying at once and pressed her sleeve to her mouth.Kade hadn’t moved from the door.Draven hadn’t moved from her.He’d propped her against him with ruthless care, a wall of heat at her back, one arm a bar under the blankets so fabric—not skin—touched bruises. His other hand bracketed her bandaged wrist, thumb dragging a steady, absent line along the edge of gauze. His scent wrapped the bed. His wolf prowled his eyes and didn’t try to take his body. For once, they agreed.“Talk later,” Greta told Lillieth,