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Thirteen

Author: Rose_pen
last update publish date: 2026-07-10 23:04:22
Elara's POV

Everything in the room went still.

"Not well," he said quickly, with the urgency of a man who understood the weight of what he'd just said. "I was young — early twenties. I was working in the northern territories, a contract job, and she was there. She knew what she was. Not the full picture, not the history, but she knew the name and she understood enough to be afraid of it." He looked at the floor, then back at me, with the expression of a person carrying something that had been
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  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty six

    Selene's POVHe knocked on my door at nine in the evening.Not the study. My room. He never came to my room — we maintained a polite separation of private spaces that had been unspoken and absolute since the engagement began. The knock was quiet, three times, and I knew from the particular quality of it that this was not a social visit.I opened the door.He looked at me for a moment. "Can I come in?"I stepped back.He came in and stayed standing. That told me something. He sat down for conversations he expected to manage. He stood for conversations he wasn't sure of."What do you know?" he said.I kept my face neutral. "About what?""Selene."Just my name. The same way he'd said it the night I asked about the bond — the tone that meant he was done with the architecture of the conversation and wanted what was underneath it.I sat on the edge of the bed. Crossed my ankles. Thought about what I'd decided since my mother's house. What I'd committed to in the car on the way home, noteboo

  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty five

    Damian's POVThe message came through the formal elder channel at seven in the morning.Not email but through the elder channel, an old system, predating everything digital, a series of sealed letters passed through designated pack couriers that arrived bearing a wax seal no one in my pack had seen used in my lifetime. My assistant brought it in with the expression of someone holding something she didn't understand and wasn't sure she should be touching.I opened it at my desk.One line.Control your house, Alpha, before someone else does it for you.Signed with Elder Mara's full title. Three lines of formal designation that hadn't been used in formal correspondence in thirty years.I read it twice. Put it flat on the desk.Then I called Bret.He arrived in four minutes, which meant he'd been in the building already. He read the letter standing in front of my desk and said nothing for a moment."She hasn't used the elder channel since your father's time," he said."I know.""This is a

  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty four

    Elara's POVHe was already there when I arrived.A corner table in a human café forty miles from the territory line. He was sitting with his hands around a coffee cup he hadn't touched, wearing civilian clothes that looked slightly wrong on him — a man who had worn pack formality so long that ordinary clothing sat on him like a costume.He looked old.That was the first thing. I hadn't expected it — the last time I had seen him he had been standing in a doorway telling the pack I was dead to him, and he had looked like the man I had feared my whole childhood. Now he looked like someone who had been carrying something very heavy for a very long time without putting it down.I sat across from him.He looked at me. Then at the table. Then at me again, and this time he held it.Neither of us spoke for a moment."You came," he said finally."I said I would."He nodded. Picked up the coffee cup. Put it down without drinking."You look—" He stopped."Don't," I said.He closed his mouth.I pu

  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty three

    Damian's POV"Pull everything from the Voss household going back twenty years," I told my head of records. "Birth records, death records, staff documentation. All of it."He looked at me across the desk. "Alpha, that's a sitting beta family—""I know what family it is. Pull the records."He pulled them.---They arrived Thursday morning. Three boxes. I sent my assistant out and locked the office door and started with the death records.I found it in forty minutes.The attending doctor's report on the death of a household servant named Ren — cause listed as postpartum hemorrhage, complications of childbirth, nothing unusual — dated eighteen years ago. Standard. Clean. Signed by a pack doctor named Erris who had left the territory fourteen years back.The official cause of death filed with the pack registry: identical language, identical date.Different handwriting.I put both documents side by side on the desk.Not similar handwriting. Not the same person writing differently on differe

  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty two

    Elara's POVCaden's phone rang at two in the morning.I heard it through the wall, his room was next to mine since he'd moved into the spare room three weeks ago after the stairwell incident. I heard him answer, heard his voice drop to something flat and quick, heard the particular silence of a man receiving bad news and compressing his reaction.I was already up when he knocked."Get dressed," he said through the door. "We need to go.""What happened?""Nessa."---She was alive.That was the first thing Caden said when we got in the car, because he knew that was the first thing I needed to hear. Alive, conscious, in a hospital thirty miles south of where she'd been staying with her sister."What happened?" I said."Someone went through the house." He drove with both hands on the wheel, focused. "She wasn't there — she'd gone to the market. She came back and found it.""The documents.""Gone. Everything she had left." A pause. "She called her contact — the route she uses to reach me.

  • The Bastard Luna: His Unwanted Mate   Forty one

    Elara's POVI opened the letter on a Sunday morning while Renn was feeding.No particular reason for Sunday. It had been in the drawer for eleven days. I had opened the drawer four times and closed it again. On the fifth time I took the letter out and sat down and opened it while Renn was occupied and couldn't see my face.It was one page. His handwriting — controlled, the same hand that had signed pack documents and dinner invitations and my exile papers.Elara.I am not going to tell you what I should have done. You know what I should have done and so do I and there is nothing either of us gains from me listing it. I am writing because there are people moving toward you who understand what you are and whose intentions are not what they will present them to be. I have made too many mistakes through silence. I am attempting not to make this one.Meet with me. Once. You can choose where. You can bring whoever you need to bring. I am not asking for anything except one hour.I know what

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