Все главы MOONBOUND SECRETS : Глава 41 - Глава 50

ZARA’S POV The scent of pine and blood still clings to the air, even after the rogues’ bodies have been dragged away. I stand at the edge of the clearing, watching as Ryland barks orders to the warriors. The surrendered rogues kneel in a ragged line, their heads bowed, their eyes flickering with a mix of fear and defiance. Silas and Selene hover near me, their hands clasped tightly in mine. “They’re scared,” Silas whispers, his golden eyes fixed on the prisoners. “Their wolves… they’re sad.” Selene nods, her silver gaze distant. “The moon lady says they can change. If we let them.” I squeeze their hands, my throat tight. *Trusting them feels like handing a knife to a shadow.* But the twins’ instincts have never led us astray—not yet. Ryland strides over, his gray eyes stormy. “We need to decide their fate. Now.” I glance at the twins. “What do you think?” Silas steps forward, his small chin lifted. “They’re lonely. They need a pack.” Selene tugs my sleeve. “But we have

Zara’s POV The safehouse was a forgotten cabin nestled deep in the pines, its walls weathered but stubbornly standing. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the roof, painting silver stripes on the dusty floorboards. Silas and Selene collapsed onto a moth-eaten couch, their eyelids drooping after hours on the run. Ryland hovered near the door, his gaze darting to every shadow. “They need rest,” I said, brushing Selene’s curls from her face. Her skin was clammy, visions still flickering behind her closed lids. “We all do.” Ryland’s voice was gravel, his knuckles white where they gripped the doorframe. “But rest won’t stop what’s coming.” I shot him a glare. “They’re *children*, Ryland. Not soldiers.” “They’re more than that, and you know it.” His eyes flicked to Silas, who twitched in his sleep, a faint glow pulsing beneath his palms. The truth hung between us, heavy as a storm. I turned away, unpacking stale bread and a canteen. “We’ll leave at dawn. Find somewhere farther

Zara’s POV The scent of blood and burnt pine clung to the air long after the battle ended. Silas slept curled against Ryland’s chest, his small fingers still twitching with residual power. Selene clung to my leg, her cheek pressed to my thigh as she stared at the pack—now silent, now staring. “They’re scared of us,” she whispered. I smoothed her hair. “They’re just surprised, baby.” “No.” Her voice trembled. “They’re scared *for* us.” Ryland stepped forward, Silas limp in his arms, and the pack parted like water. “The children are exhausted,” he said, tone brooking no argument. “We rest tonight. Tomorrow, we rebuild *together*.” A grizzled warrior named Jarek spat into the dirt. “Rebuild what? A graveyard haunted by witches?” Ryland’s growl reverberated in my bones, but Selene slipped from my grip before I could stop her. She marched up to Jarek, her chin tilted defiantly. “You have a daughter,” she said. Jarek stiffened. “She’s dead.” “No.” Selene pressed a tiny ha

Second Person POV You don’t have time to scream. The world fractures into chaos—glass shards rain down like jagged hail, Zane’s feral snarls echoing through the broken windows. Silas clings to Ryland’s neck, his tiny fingers digging into the Alpha’s skin, while Selene scrambles behind the overturned couch. Shadows writhe like living things, their tendrils lashing at Ryland’s wolf as he shields the children. “Get them out!” you shout, but the command dies in your throat as Zane’s amber eyes lock onto yours through the shattered frame. He’s not the man who brought you groceries or fixed the twins’ swing set. This Zane is all predator, his human form blurred at the edges, claws elongating into obsidian daggers. “You *owed* me, Zara,” he hisses. “I gave you shelter. I *loved* them.” Ryland shifts back mid-snarl, blood streaking his bare chest. “Touch them and I’ll peel the flesh from your bones.” Zane laughs—a broken, hollow sound. “You think you’re still their savior, Cross?

--- The gates creak open, and the scent of blood hits you like a wall. The Bloodfang compound is a graveyard. Bodies litter the courtyard—warriors, Omegas, even children. Their throats are slit, their eyes wide and unseeing. The air reeks of iron and betrayal. “What the hell…” Ryland’s voice is a low growl, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. Selene whimpers, burying her face in your neck. “They’re scared, Mommy. All of them.” Silas grips your hand tighter. “The crowned lady did this. She’s… laughing.” Your stomach churns. The Elders. They’ve turned on their own pack. Ryland steps forward, his boots crunching on shattered glass. “Show yourself, Marcellus!” The shadows shift. Elder Marcellus emerges from the darkness, his robes stained crimson. His face is gaunt, his eyes hollow. “You’re too late, Ryland. The ritual has begun.” “What ritual?” you demand, shifting to shield the twins. Marcellus smiles—a grotesque twist of lips. “The one that will make us gods.”