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The Past: An Accident 2
Last Updated:
2025-05-26 21:40:03
Latest chapter
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden Not Broken
The tent was thick with the scent of blood, herbs, and seething tension. Jaxon stood near the entrance, arms folded tightly across his chest, his eyes constantly drifting to the parted flap where he could just make out the distant silhouettes of the Nyxorian army. The low hum of soldiers preparing for the night beyond the canvas only made the silence inside the tent heavier.Triston sat rigid on the edge of his chair, jaw clenched, muscles coiled with tension as the physician worked on his shoulder. Blood had soaked through the torn fabric of his tunic, mixing with dirt and sweat. Reyes’ bite had reopened the half-healed wound, and the torn flesh throbbed beneath every pass of the physician’s cloth.Xaren sat on a crate at the far end of the tent, elbows on knees, watching the whole process in silence. He had said little since they returned from the clash. His face bore a grim expression, jaw tight with unspoken thoughts, but his eyes never left Triston. He was watching—not just as a
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden Drawn To You
Reyes finally turned his head to her, that smirk lingering. “And here I was, thinking you’d cry over me when you saw the bandages.”She raised a brow. “I doubt I would have cried even if you were brought back with much worse injuries. Or dead..”"Look at that! Did you hear her speak, Reyes?!" Zina scoffed, “She’s a traitor. A spy. And you’re letting her stand here and—”“Zina,” Reyes cut in sharply, his voice firm, “leave.”“What?”“I need to speak with Ivone.”Zina's mouth opened, her eyes widening in disbelief. “But I—”“Now.” He didn’t yell. He didn’t snarl. But the authority in his voice made even the guards at the door stiffen.Zina hesitated, shooting one last poisonous glare at Ivone, then turned on her heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind her. Silence fell. Reyes turned back to Ivone, his expression unreadable now. Only the faintest glint of something—relief? regret? longing?—touched his eyes."Zina claims you’re a spy—sent by Triston," He said, his voice measured, b
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden Authority
The castle gates thundered open as Reyes rode through, bloodied but unbowed. A dark stain had spread across his side where Triston's blade had met flesh. Despite the pain searing through his abdomen, his posture on the horse was rigid, unshaken, his jaw locked tight with fury.Dathan rode close beside him, shouting for the physicians as they dismounted. Servants scrambled through the courtyard, making way for the wounded Alpha. Reyes brushed off the helping hands that reached for him, striding forward with fire in his steps as he made his way to his chambers where the medics quickly set to work peeling off his armor and treating the knife wound at his side.He winced but said nothing, eyes burning—not from the pain, but from something far more dangerous.“Where is Ivone? Bring her to me,” he growled to the nearest guard. “Now.”The guard froze, hesitated and Reyes turned his head, slowly, his voice cutting sharper. “Did you not hear me?”The guard swallowed visibly and took a step for
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden Bloodlines
Ivone sat in the corner of the cold dungeon, her back pressed to the damp stone wall, knees tucked to her chest. The torches lining the corridor outside flickered wearily, casting long, flickering shadows through the bars of her cell. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling or the distant shuffle of guards. But her mind wasn’t in the dungeon. It was in the library, lost in scrolls and ink and secrets far too heavy for parchment to bear. Annora Thorold, a princess of Elyria. The name lingered in her thoughts like smoke, but what had shaken her most was not the name itself, but the fact that it was written into Nyxorian history. Both kingdoms had always been fractured, tangled in blood and politics, their borders drawn more in war than peace. So why had an Elyrian royal been recorded in Nyxoria’s scrolls? And why had someone deliberately hidden the details of her death? She remembered the scroll’s edge, darkened by smudged ink. It had been
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden Wounded
Triston stood rooted to the scorched ground, every muscle in his body taut with fury, yet perfectly controlled. His golden eyes, hard as tempered steel, never once left Reyes, locked onto him with the unblinking focus of a predator. The silence between them cracked with tension, the kind that tasted like blood before the first blow was even struck. His hatred wasn’t loud, it lived deep in his bones, forged from vengeance, and the cold truth of what had been taken from him. The wind swept through the battlefield, lifting strands of his hair, and for the briefest moment, he looked like the ghost of a war that had never ended. He turned slightly, the movement slow and deliberate, his voice was low, but it cut through the space between them with the precision of a blade honed over years of loss. "I came to end this.” He paused, letting the words hang between them like the prelude to judgment. Then, his eyes narrowed even further, his rage sharpening into pure resolve. “And I will.” T
Wolf's Bane: Moonlit Forbidden No Retreat
Reyes’s teeth found his injured shoulder, the very spot where the poisoned arrow had once sunk deep. Triston let out a howl of pain as the bite tore into old wounds, his front leg buckling slightly. Blood bloomed fast and thick over his fur. The Nyxorian Alpha didn’t relent. He tore again, shaking his head like a predator trying to rip a limb from bone. Triston’s body slammed into the earth, a snarl of fury ripped from his throat. Reyes loomed, dominance momentarily flashing in his coal-black eyes. But he had underestimated the fire in his opponent. He stepped in for the final strike— And Triston surged. With a primal roar, the Elyrian Alpha twisted, hind legs digging into the dirt, and launched upward. His jaws closed around Reyes’s throat—not deep enough to kill, but enough to lift and slam him sideways. Reyes hit the ground hard. Triston followed, claws raking over his ribs, driving him back with a series of savage, precise bites. He was no longer fighting just to win. He was fig
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