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South Bridge (Part two)
Last Updated:
2025-10-15 18:28:46
Latest chapter
The Alpha's Runaway Luna The parents
Joel P.O.V.The bridge hum fades behind us and the city’s breath turns to rail-song and footsteps. Hazel runs at my side with that new quiet in her spine, the kind that comes when a woman stops negotiating with her past and starts billing it.Bailey, my wolf, paces inside my ribs, eager and careful at once. ‘Anchor,’ he reminds me. ‘Not leash.’“East access,” Becky threads into my ear, bell earrings a steady ringing over the comms. “Thermal shows three bodies; two in motion, one rabbit-still at the fence.”“Copy,” I say. “Consent check,” I add, because it matters who hears me ask.Hazel doesn’t break stride, but her smile is wide as a wolf’s grin. “Together,” she says, and the word clicks something clean between us. The ring of suns on her collarbone, ink over bite, catches the last light and my new compass tattoo warms in answer while Olive’s key etched under the needle is a promise against my pulse.We slip the last chain-link and take the gravel path that hugs the river’s shoulde
The Alpha's Runaway Luna South Bridge (Part two)
Hazel P.O.V.The lower gate guard up the block lifts his head as if hearing his name. Three quick knocks sound on the post. Two slow. Old coin code. Becky kills the gate’s attempt to be helpful from her place with Lily with a little grunt of effort and a grin.“Foxglove favors the quick,” someone murmurs from the hedge. Josie’s voice is a ribbon you can hang anything on if you don’t mind it snapping under weight.Grady leans a fraction. “Onyx?” he asks the part of him that bares teeth only for need.Hold, Onyx says, rumble over our matebond.The fox thread Sable seeded under the third stone shivers, the line Nova saw this morning tries to be funny. My mark heats, the house hum warns me the way your body warns you about bad meat.“Girls,” I say without looking, and Zara steps into the crowd we seeded on purpose today with aunties. Children lift, chatter changes flavor and the world glances to its corners.Josie pads out of the hedge as if she’s the one with the spoon and the bead ring
The Alpha's Runaway Luna South Bridge (Part one)
Hazel P..O.V.Last light leans over the south bridge painting the sky in pretty colors. The river breathes damp and the stones answer with an old ache that isn’t all mine anymore.“Circle,” I say, and Miss Pat presses the iron spoon into my palm like a priest handing over a relic.“Yes, Luna,” she murmurs, and the way it sits in the air, Luna, doesn’t scrape today. My mark warms where Grady’s teeth taught me, ink bright under skin, a thin ring of thorns and a line of little suns along my collarbone, a story written in the language of we chose this. His mark on him mirrors mine but not copy, the same thorns threading a crescent on his neck, my name hidden in knotwork only he knows how to read.Elder Max sets his rod, iron tipped, legal in a way that makes men behave, into the notch we chalked yesterday and Becky taped the city’s mouth shut where it lies out of habit while River has his storm coiled around the crowd, gentle as a good leash.I lay ash in a circle while the house hums bac
The Alpha's Runaway Luna Arrest two
Kaia P.O.V.The club at 4th. Up close it smells like bleach, cologne, and poor decisions.“Pairs,” I say at the curb, chalk already dirtying my fingers. “We go in with paper, not muscles. Loud enough the girls hear it’s over, quiet enough we don’t make them targets.”“Yes, Beta,” comes back, Zara at my left, Ares on door, two precinct officers in soft armor behind, because Becky likes writ, witness and wheels. Adrian stands at my right, collar open to the evening, a grin on his handsome face.“Consent check,” he murmurs, eyes on the reflection in the black glass. “You anchor, I cut. If you say stop.”“You stop,” I finish, and the starburst behind my ear warms. My canteen knocks my hip; as vinegar sloshes like a promise.Outside, Becky’s cones corral a reporter herd into a polite crescent. Inside, the front desk clerk rearranges his face into lamp mode the second he sees us. The bouncer starts to grow a spine but sees the precinct officers and decides a spine is overrated.Ares plants,
The Alpha's Runaway Luna Arrest one
Grady P.O.V.Becky has had the lobby laced with “scheduled maintenance” cones that are aggressively cheerful. A strip of yellow tape makes a bright seam across the mouth of the lobby like a smile we don’t trust, and reporters have already formed a crescent, noses up for blood. Above us, the city’s cameras blink dumb and docile because Becky told them to.“Positions,” River says in my ear, calm and maybe even bored. “The north door is clean. Driver idling on the east and three suits at reception trying to grow spines.”“Copy,” Becky sings, a sugary voice also hard and precise. “Writs loaded. Lobby mics live. If anyone opens their mouth and lies, my bell earrings will ring.” Elder Max stands to my left with his clay satchel and that pen that could cut a man in half with a properly worded clause. His eyes skim the assembled faces and do not linger anywhere unworthwhile.“Consent check,” I murmur into the packline, habit now. “Hazel?”A hand on my back through the bond, the porch light in
The Alpha's Runaway Luna Shade
Sabel P.O.V.I sit on the east abutment, skirts tucked up out of the honest damp, and let the nettle thread slide from my wrist into the seam where frost and boots taught the stone to part ways. Beads click in my palm, a good rosary spoiled by purpose. One, two, three; foxfire, foxglove, fox-bell. A ladder is only a story with pretensions.Under me the bridge hums a new note, as if someone taught the granite a lullaby that understands the word no. The house is singing again, with little lamps all along the bones, dotted iron around soft throats and the hush of a covenant you cannot counterfeit. Pretty and very inconvenient.“Sun-bloom,” I murmur, tasting the metal in the air. “Who taught you to wear your vows on your skin, little wolves?” A bell in my hand rings once, polite, and the hum leans like a plant toward light. I drop the bell into the river because politeness is not what we came for and the sound swims away and everything tightens as boys with nets move in the shadows and th
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