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หน้าหลัก / Werewolf / Beneath the Moon / บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

บททั้งหมดของ Beneath the Moon: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

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|c.1|

Channary had just put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup when her mother’s excited voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs.“Come on! You’re going to be late for the festival!” her mother called, sounding both thrilled and impatient.“Ma, I’m coming now… relax,” Channary replied, rolling her eyes and whispering the last word.“I heard that!” her mother called back, voice laced with mock irritation.Channary chuckled. “I love you,” she said, her irritation fading into a smile as she grabbed her slides and took one last look in the mirror.The soft glow of her bedroom lanterns reflected off her ash-blonde hair, which she had twisted into a perfect, messy bun, with short curls framing her round face. Her pale purple eyes sparkled, flecked with hints of silver—a distinct mark of being Moon-Kissed. Soon, she thought, her mate would see her as she saw herself: beautiful, unique, a prize worthy of any Alpha’s daughter.Heart racing with anticipation, Channary flew down the stai
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|c.2|

Channary’s world began to blur, the vibrant colors and sounds of the festival swirling into a dizzying whirl around her. She blinked, clutching her forehead, but the haze only thickened, pressing in until she could barely tell up from down. Heart pounding, she fought to keep her eyes open, to stay steady. The strange, tingling sensation coursing through her wasn’t what she had been expecting from the Unity Cup. This was supposed to be an ancient, almost sacred experience, a rite of the Blood-Moon—so why did her mind feel like it was wrapped in fog?Something was wrong. Her parents had described the mild effects of the Cup, a warmth, a sense of clarity—nothing like this strange disorientation that made her limbs feel both heavy and weightless. She stumbled, her body swaying with each step, a sour taste building in her mouth.“This… isn’t right,” she managed to whisper, her voice weak and shaky, though her mind screamed the words. She could barely focus, struggling to push down the risin
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|c.3|

It had been another day and a half since Channary locked herself in her room, hiding from the world, from herself, and from the life that had been shattered that night in The Grove. She lay curled in her bed, surrounded by the heavy silence, the air thick with the scent of her own despair. Shadows crept along the walls, seeming to close in on her as if even the walls knew she no longer belonged here. Her father’s voice had cut through the house several times over the past days, demanding she come down, barking his orders like she was nothing more than a misbehaving pup.It was her mother who finally entered, her expression a mix of pity, frustration, and that strange sadness Channary had seen there for as long as she could remember. She stood silently in the doorway for a moment, her eyes scanning the mess of clothes scattered across the floor, her daughter’s unkempt hair spilling over her pillow, and the dull glaze that had taken over Channary’s once bright eyes.“Chan,” her mother sa
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|c.4|

The tension in the room was suffocating as Channary stared her father down, her heart hammering against her ribs. His words echoed in her ears—cruel, unforgiving, and final.“You’ve been nothing but a stain on this family’s name,” Roman spat, his eyes like shards of ice. “Your actions on the Blood Moon have brought shame to our entire pack. You’re not my daughter anymore.”Channary flinched, but only for a moment. Her jaw tightened as she forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to let him see her break. Her voice, though trembling, carried a quiet, simmering rage.“You never wanted me, did you?” she asked. “Not really. You only tolerated me because I was your firstborn.”Roman’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, she thought he might deny it. Instead, he crossed his arms, his silence damning.“You wanted a son,” Channary continued, her voice gaining strength. “That’s why you’ve been trying outside of your mate, isn’t it? You think I didn’t know? You think the pack didn’t know?” Her
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|c.5|

The sound of tiny feet racing across hardwood floors echoed through the modest house Channary had worked so hard to make a home. The twins, Sienna and Elara, were bundles of boundless energy, their laughter ringing out like chimes. Channary, now twenty-five, stood at the kitchen counter, rinsing paint brushes she had used to restore a faded piece of art she had picked up from the local flea market. Her long hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands sticking to her neck as the late afternoon sun streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow.“Mama!” Sienna cried, bursting into the kitchen. Her dark curls bounced as she waved a drawing in her hand. “Look! I made a wolf!”Channary dried her hands on a towel and leaned down to examine her daughter’s work. The crude crayon drawing did indeed resemble a wolf, though its proportions were cartoonish. “That’s amazing, baby,” she said, ruffling Sienna’s hair. “You’ve got real talent.”Sienna beamed, but her twin, Elara, peeked
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|c.6|

The classroom buzzed with the cheerful chaos of children at play. Laughter rang out as the twins, Elara and Sienna, darted between their classmates, their silver-streaked hair catching the light like liquid moonlight. Ms. Claire DuPont watched them closely, her wolf stirring with a strange, aching sadness as it always did when the girls were near.She couldn’t understand it. Who were these children, and why did they tug so insistently at her instincts?Throughout the day, Claire found herself watching them more than usual, taking note of the subtle but telling mannerisms they shared: the way they seemed to mirror each other without effort, the unspoken connection that made them move and react as if tethered by an invisible string. Something about them struck a chord of familiarity, though she couldn’t place where she’d seen it before.It nagged at her through math lessons, coloring time, lunch, and even during the brief moments of peace when the children napped. Claire tried to push t
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|c.7|

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur for Channary. Laughter echoed around the dining table, stories were shared, and the twins were doted on by Claire’s parents, who seemed genuinely enchanted by them. Yet, Channary couldn’t fully immerse herself. Her thoughts remained tethered to the eerie resemblance her daughters shared with the late Elena DuPont, the silver-haired twin who had captivated the family’s hearts even in death.The connection didn’t end there—Channary herself felt it, an inexplicable pull that left her unsettled. She was drawn to the warmth and familiarity of the DuPont family, as though she belonged among them. It was a sensation she couldn’t shake, no matter how much she tried to distract herself with polite conversation or the twins’ innocent chatter.By the time they arrived home, the girls were yawning and rubbing their eyes, their energy from the eventful evening finally spent. Channary moved on autopilot, guiding her daughters through their bedtime routine. Sh
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|c.8|

The moment Claire stepped through the door of her cozy apartment, she kicked off her black heels with a groan, each step echoing faintly against the hardwood floor. The familiar scent of cinnamon and worn leather wrapped around her like a hug, but it did nothing to ease the tight coil in her chest. She grabbed her phone off the entryway table, her fingers dialing Colton's number almost before she thought about it. The line rang and rang, each pulse stirring her irritation until finally—"Well, if it isn’t my dear sister," Colton drawled, his deep voice layered with amusement and just a hint of exhaustion. "To what do I owe the pleasure this late?"Claire scoffed, kicking her purse onto the couch. "Cut the crap, Colt. Why didn’t you show up to dinner tonight?"There was a beat of silence, too long, too telling."I got caught up with some pack business," he said finally, the excuse flimsy even to his own ears."Pack business, my ass," she snapped, flopping onto the worn leather armchair
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|c.9|

The drive to Channary’s house was thick with a silence so charged, it buzzed in the air between Colton and Claire. The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the narrow country road. Claire stared out the window, her fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against the worn denim of her jeans. Her mind spun with unanswered questions.Colton gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking beneath his fingers. His jaw was locked tight, every muscle in his body coiled and restless. The closer they got, the more his wolf stirred beneath his skin, pacing, pushing—hungryfor something he couldn’t name. Yet.When they finally turned onto Channary’s street, Claire unbuckled before the truck even came to a full stop. She swung the door open and hopped onto the gravel driveway, her boots crunching in the crisp autumn air.Colton remained seated, frozen, as a scent wrapped around him like a vice—warm, soft, sweet—a scent he hadn't smelled in years yet had
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|c.10|

The second Claire was safely back at her classroom to pick up her car, Colton had already pulled out his phone and messaged his beta—his best friend and the only person who truly knew the secrets Colton carried.Logan had been with him the night of the Blood Moon. He was the one who had found Colton afterward, bloody, confused, and broken in the sacred Grove, swearing up and down that someone had drugged him. Logan was the only one who had believed him, the only one who had kept the truth tucked away all these years.Now he was the only person Colton trusted with this new, fragile truth:Channary was his mate.The twin girls—those tiny sparks of life—were his daughters.And they were missing.It had been two full days since Channary and the girls had disappeared. Two days of gnawing silence. Two days of sleepless nights and pacing like a caged animal. He had Logan keeping an eye on their small, cozy house nestled at the edge of town, but no lights ever came on, no car pulled into the
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