All Chapters of Beauty and the Alpha Beast: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

*Roxy*I sit curled on the cold stone floor, my knees tucked to my chest, staring at the narrow sliver of moonlight stretching across the tower. It feels different now. Like the Moon Goddess is watching. Like She knows I’m not alone anymore.I hear Leo through the mind-link again. “Are you okay? What happened after they took you?” he asks.I draw in a shaky breath. The wolfsbane has mostly worn off now, but I still feel weak, as if my limbs belong to someone else. I’m thankful the fog in my head is gone, and I can speak to Leo. “They brought me back here, to the tower. At first, they gave me back control of my body so I’d have the strength for what they did next, but then they held me down again. They forced more wolfsbane down my throat. I couldn’t fight them.”I have to take another deep breath to calm myself before I continue. “After that, everything blurred. I drifted in and out, but I remember them—sitting behind me in a circle, like some twisted ritual. One by one, they took tur

*Roxy*I watch in horror as the witches’ magic lifts Leo into the air, his midnight-black wolf twisting in pain, suspended like a marionette on invisible strings. The witches’ chant claws through the morning. “No!” I scream, slamming both palms against the windowsill. My voice breaks, raw and useless against the sky.Then—they drop him.His body hits the ground with a sickening thud. He’s completely still–motionless.A scream tears from my throat. “Somebody help me!” I shout, leaning out the window, desperate. “Please! Someone! Throw me a rope!”Below, chaos churns through the valley. Wolves sprint, warriors cry out, magic swirls like smoke. The witches scream again, louder this time. “Please!” I yell again. “He’s—Leo’s—” My voice shatters on his name.Then, finally, someone hears me. A warrior near the supply wagon—his armor gleaming–looks up, and without a word, he grabs a coil of rope and throws it toward the window.On the third try, I catch it in my trembling hands but nearly d

*Roxy*Golden Elm is like something out of a dream I was never allowed to have. The castle is woven into the hillside with silver stone. There’s a gentleness to it—strong, but warm–not like the cold tower I was locked in. This place feels... alive.My mother—Lorna, I remind myself, trying to wrap my heart around the word—leads me through the grand archway. Her hand brushes mine gently, not pulling, just offering. I take it.“It’s not as grand as some of the others,” she says with a smile, “but it’s home.”Home. That word lands hard in my chest.Inside, the halls are lined with tapestries in red and gold. Light pours through stained glass windows, and servants and guards alike bow their heads as we pass, treating me like a daughter coming home.My mother leads me up a staircase that curves like the limb of a tree, the railing polished smooth by time and hands. We don’t speak as we climb. There’s too much between us: grief, wonder, hope, and years lost.We reach a hallway with a wooden

*Roxy*The tent flutters softly in the cool twilight air. Inside, I sit quietly on a cushioned stool, trying to steady my racing heart.My gown hangs from a cedar hook near the center post of the tent, swaying gently with the breeze. It’s ivory and luminous, with silver vines shimmering along the bodice, embroidered by hand, and tiny moonstones stitched into the hem and train. It looks like it was made from the stars for the Moon Goddess, spun from mist and light.I chose it days ago, but seeing it now—waiting—I feel everything all at once: wonder, love, and peace. My mother steps closer, her eyes glistening. “You’re the daughter I always dreamed of. This day is for you, Roxanna.”I swallow hard. It’s strange hearing those words, bearing the weight of them, and yet feeling like I’m still just the girl who once lived alone in a tower, stolen from everything she knew.“I’m not sure I’m ready to be Luna,” I admit, my voice meek.Hanna’s hands are gentle as she reaches for mine. “You’re

Book 4*Xelina*The kettle boils over, hissing like it’s furious with me. I grab a cloth and yank it off the fire just in time to keep it from spilling across the coals. My fingers sting, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Mireth will be demanding her tea soon, and if it’s not steaming hot, on her tray exactly the way she likes it, she’ll dump the whole thing on the floor, make me clean it, and force me to make it all over again.I pour the tea, steady as I can, then set the tray with the good porcelain I’m told to polish every week, just in case someone important stops by, although no one ever does.“Xelina!” Mireth’s voice cuts through the silence like a whip. “Where’s my tea?”“Coming!” I balance three trays for my stepmother and stepsisters and rush up the stairs, careful not to let the teacups rattle. I find Mireth draped across the divan in her green silk gown, her slippers kicked off, her feet resting on a velvet tufffed stool.I set the tray down on the low table in front of