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CHAPTER 11
Last Updated:
2025-08-06 02:31:19
Latest chapter
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 49
AMAYAI can hear them more clearly now.The whispers follow me like shadows.At first, I think I'm imagining them, the glances from the other servants, the way conversations falter when I enter a room, and they always seem to change the subject. But by midday, I can feel the hostility pressing in, subtle but sharp, like thorns hidden beneath silk. Evelara's handiwork, no doubt.Yes, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.“Move faster, rogue,” a scullery maid mutters as I pass. She doesn’t meet my eyes, but the curl of her lip says enough.I bite my tongue and keep walking, balancing the tray in my hands. It isn’t worth reacting. Not here. Not now.Trish finds me in the laundry room, folding linens alone. She slips through the door with her usual quick, light steps and closes it firmly behind her.“You’re not imagining it,” she says without preamble, as if she could read my mind. “They’re talking.”I keep my hands busy, smoothing a sheet that doesn’t need smoothing. “About what?”
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 48
LUCIANAmaya’s hiding something.That thought has been gnawing at me for days, creeping in whenever I close my eyes. She's too careful, too deliberate in the way she moves through the house. Servants are supposed to stumble, gossip, and complain. She glides. She listens more than she speaks.This morning, I decided to stop wondering and start digging.The library is quiet at this hour, dawn light spilling across the floor. I open personnel rosters, pack records, even old mercenary ledgers, anything that might explain who she is. There’s nothing. No birthplace listed. No family ties. No past employment.It’s as if she appeared from thin air.I rub my jaw, staring at the blank spaces where information should be. Not even a forged paper trail. That, more than anything, bothers me. Someone wanted her invisible.And Darian? My brother notices everything. He has to know unless he's been too distracted.I find him in his office just before noon, surrounded by reports. His shoulders are hunch
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 47
AMAYADarian is gone.The estate feels different without him, the air less sharp, the walls less oppressive. Servants move with lighter steps when he’s not prowling the corridors like a storm waiting to break. For me, his absence is an opportunity, one I cannot waste.I slip into the ancient archives just after sunset. The massive oak door groans softly as I push it open, and the familiar scent of parchment, dust, and candle wax hits me like a comforting cloak. Shelves tower around me, lined with records older than my grandmother’s stories. Somewhere in here lies what I need, a crack in the Grayhide Pack’s walls, a weakness I can exploit when the time is right.I light a single candle, shielding the flame with my hand. The golden glow barely touches the endless rows of leather-bound books and crumbling scrolls. My fingers trace the spines, reading faded lettering. Territorial Disputes, 3rd Era… Pack Genealogies… Alpha Succession Rites…Nothing useful. Nothing sharp enough to cut the
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 46
DARIANThe knock on my office door comes before dawn, sharp and insistent. Only bad news arrives this early.“Enter,” I call, voice still rough from lack of sleep.Ronan, my beta, strides in, cloak damp with morning mist. "Alpha, a message from the northern sector. Their council says the villagers are refusing tribute. They're demanding a direct audience with you."I rub my temple, suppressing a growl. “Tribute refusal? That’s not defiance, it’s desperation. What’s their grievance?”“They claim the harvest was poor this year,” Ronan says carefully. “But… Theron is advising immediate discipline. He says hesitation looks like weakness.”Of course he does. I push back from my desk, the carved wood legs scraping against stone. “Summon the elders. We settle this face-to-face.”I hoped by now the issue with the northern sector would have been resolved, but that's proving not to be the case at the moment. Now I have to do the last thing I wanted to do. Summon the elders, again.The council c
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 45
DARIAN The message comes just before dawn, sharp and cold as the wind outside my window. A runner kneels at my door, chest heaving. Unrest in the northern sector. Refusal to pay tribute. Hostility spreading.The pack doesn’t sleep while I’m awake. By the time I stride into the council chamber, warriors and advisors are already gathering. The heavy doors close behind me with a hollow thud. I don’t sit. I stand at the head of the long table, hands flat against the wide map stretched across it, breathing in the silence that falls when an Alpha is about to speak.Lucian arrives next, slipping in without ceremony. He takes the seat at my right, his steady presence a reminder that someone here still has my back. Theron comes last, of course, gliding in like the room belongs to him. He greets no one, just lowers himself into a chair with that calm arrogance that makes my teeth ache.“The northern sector is restless,” I say, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “The tribute shipm
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 44
AMAYAThe halls are hushed this late, washed in pale streaks of moonlight filtering through narrow windows. Every sound I make, every scuff of my boots, every soft breath seems too loud. I balance a bundle of fresh linens against my chest, the faint lavender scent clinging to my fingers, and keep moving, forcing myself not to think.I’ve been working late more and more. It’s easier than lying awake with my thoughts. Easier than remembering the dinner, Evelara’s smirk as I picked myself off the floor, Darian’s silence like a blade pressed to my throat.The corridor ahead yawns empty, shadows pooling in the high arches. Peaceful. Or it should be.“You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate.”I freeze mid-step. His voice, smooth, low, too calm, slices through the stillness. My heart lurches.Lucian steps out from the shadow of an archway like he’s been waiting there, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes bright even in the dim light. He doesn’t look
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