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Chapter 41

Author: Rianca Nicky
last update publish date: 2025-10-24 23:38:38

Taylor’s POV

I didn’t sleep that night. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw that faint blue glow from Celeste’s pendant — and I kept thinking about how her scent had shifted, soft but familiar, like a song I’d once known by heart and somehow forgotten.

By the time the sky began to pale, the thought in my head had turned into a voice I couldn’t ignore. Something about her wasn’t right. Not just strange — intentional. Hidden.

But no one else seemed to notice.

Damien had spent the morning in council
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  • The Alpha’s Rejected Mate Was The Stolen Werewolf Princess    Chapter 127

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  • The Alpha’s Rejected Mate Was The Stolen Werewolf Princess    Chapter 126

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  • The Alpha’s Rejected Mate Was The Stolen Werewolf Princess    Chapter 125

    The house was quiet the next morning. Unnaturally quiet. No flowers. No deliveries. No velvet boxes waiting on tables like emotional landmines. Nothing. Astrid noticed immediately. And somehow— That unsettled her more. She walked downstairs cautiously, expecting tension. Chaos. Another argument. Instead— Damien sat at the dining table in a black shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, reading through a stack of documents. Working. Actually working. Several members of the GreyMoon council stood nearby speaking in low voices while Damien listened with calm, precise attention. No obsession. No gifts. No fixation. Just the Alpha of GreyMoon. Astrid slowed slightly. One of the men noticed her first and immediately straightened. “Luna.” Astrid almost flinched at the title. Damien looked up briefly. Their eyes met. And unlike every other morning— There was no intensity in his expression. No desperation. No hunger. Just ackno

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    The house was quiet the next morning. Unnaturally quiet. No flowers. No deliveries. No velvet boxes waiting on tables like emotional landmines. Nothing. Astrid noticed immediately. And somehow— That unsettled her more. She walked downstairs cautiously, expecting tension. Chaos. Another argument. Instead— Damien sat at the dining table in a black shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, reading through a stack of documents. Working. Actually working. Several members of the GreyMoon council stood nearby speaking in low voices while Damien listened with calm, precise attention. No obsession. No gifts. No fixation. Just the Alpha of GreyMoon. Astrid slowed slightly. One of the men noticed her first and immediately straightened. “Luna.” Astrid almost flinched at the title. Damien looked up briefly. Their eyes met. And unlike every other morning— There was no intensity in his expression. No desperation. No hunger. Just acknowledgment. Then he returned to

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