All Chapters of My Big Bad Wolf-A Werewolf Trilogy: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The seasons had softened the forest. The smell of smoke and blood that had once clung to the trees was gone, replaced by wildflowers and fresh rain. Peace had taken root, steady and deep, spreading through the hills and into the hearts of our people. It was strange, almost unfamiliar to me, this quiet that no longer pressed against my chest.I watched from the edge of the clearing as the young wolves sparred. Their movements were precise, a mix of instinct and training. My eyes, though, kept drifting toward Willow. She moved with fire and intent, every motion sharp, every strike calculated. It was impossible not to see the Landry blood in her, her spirit unbroken, unafraid.Twix’s voice cut across the clearing. “Careful, Willow. You’re letting your shoulder drop again.”Willow pivoted, her copper hair catching the sunlight. “It’s called momentum,” she called back, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.Twix folded his arms, unimpressed. “It’s called sloppy.”I suppressed a chuckle.

~Alex~The early morning mist curled around the edges of the trees as I rode beside Twix, the weight of the world pressing against my chest. His expression was unreadable, calm, but I could sense the tension beneath the surface. His pack—the one he had married into—was not as unified as ours, and the death of their Alpha had left a wound that still bled quietly.“You’ve never told me the full story of your wife’s pack,” I said, keeping my voice low. The forest was alive with the rustle of leaves, the faint scent of pine and frost in the air.Twix didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, muscles coiled in quiet vigilance. “There isn’t much to tell. My wife’s father ran a tight pack. Fierce. Loyal. Ruthless when needed. She and I… we tried to work together. But some things can’t be fixed, Alex. Not even by love.”I nodded, sensing the ghosts lingering behind his words. Twix had always been steady, a rock in our pack’s storm. But here, leading a pack torn by g

~Elysia~The forest was quiet that morning, the soft rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the stillness. I walked alongside Alex, our hands brushing occasionally, his presence a steady anchor beneath the tension that had been building for months. Even after all the battles we had fought, the victories and losses, there were still shadows we could not ignore.“You’ve been quiet,” Alex murmured, his eyes scanning the horizon even as his voice sought me out.“I’ve been thinking,” I admitted, keeping my gaze on the path ahead. “About Willow, about the future, about… everything that’s coming.”Alex’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t speak. I knew he felt it too—the weight of prophecy, the delicate threads of the lives we were trying to protect, and the new responsibilities pressing down on all of us.The clearing up ahead revealed Twix’s camp. Even from a distance, I could see the unease among his pack, the subtle tension in the way they moved. Twix stood at the edge of the trainin

The air smelled of damp earth and pine as I stepped out onto the veranda of our cottage. Willow was already at the edge of the training grounds, laughing and chasing the small sparks of frostfire she conjured in the morning light. Alex stood near the edge of the forest, his eyes scanning the horizon as always, a silent sentinel.I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. The calm moments were precious, but they were always fleeting. Even now, I could sense tension in the edges of the woods, the way the shadows seemed to move just slightly against the wind. There was unrest stirring beyond our borders.Twix appeared behind me without a sound, his presence steady and unassuming. He had been training his pack with quiet precision, guiding them without overt displays of power. He had changed since he became the acting Alpha of his late wife’s pack. Loss had shaped him, molded him into someone more deliberate and watchful. His grief had not made him weaker; it had sharpened

Morning light crept across the village, pale and careful, as if it too feared to disturb the fragile calm that had settled over our lives. I walked along the main path, Willow trailing close, her small hand tucked into mine. The quiet was deceptive. Every shadow seemed heavier than it should, every rustle of leaves sharper. The memory of Twix’s grief still lingered, etched in my mind with a clarity that made my chest ache.We passed the market square, where merchants were already setting up stalls. The scent of bread and roasting meat tried to lighten the morning, but it did little to chase the weight from my thoughts. Children played near the fountain, their laughter a fragile balm, but even that was tinged with caution. They had seen enough blood to know it could return at any moment.Willow tugged on my hand, pointing to a group of older children racing toward the river. “Mom, can I go with them?”I knelt to her height, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Not yet, love.