Все главы MOONBOUND SECRETS : Глава 51 - Глава 60

Zara's POV The bakery is quiet, the soft hum of the oven the only sound breaking the silence. The twins are at the counter, their heads bent over a coloring book, their little hands moving in sync as they fill the pages with bright, chaotic colors. I watch them from the kitchen, my heart swelling with a mix of love and fear. They’re so innocent, so unaware of the storm brewing just outside the fragile bubble I’ve built for them. And then the door opens. The bell above it jingles, a sound so familiar it usually brings me comfort. But not today. Today, it feels like a warning. I step out of the kitchen, wiping my hands on my apron, and freeze. Ryland stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his presence overwhelming. His dark eyes sweep the room, landing on the twins before finally settling on me. My heart stops. “Mommy?” Selene’s voice is small, curious. She peeks around me, her wide eyes darting between me and Ryland. “Who’s that?” I don’t answer. I

Zara’s POV The twins’ laughter echoes through the forest, a sound so pure it almost drowns out the unease clawing at my chest. Silas and Selene dart between the trees, their small hands brushing against bark and leaves as they play a game only they understand. Ryland walks beside me, his presence a steady hum of warmth, but I keep my distance. Trust is still a fragile thing, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. “They’re adapting well,” Ryland says, his voice low, careful. I nod, my eyes never leaving the twins. “They’ve always loved the woods. Even when we lived in town, they’d beg to explore the park.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re naturals. Look at how they move—like they’ve known these trails their whole lives.” I bite back the sharp reply on my tongue. *They should have.* This life—the scent of pine, the rhythm of the pack, the safety of a territory—should have been theirs from the start. But I don’t say it. The past is a wound we’re both

Zara's POV The forest is quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like the world is holding its breath. The twins are asleep in their room, their small bodies curled together under a blanket of moonlight. I sit on the porch, my fingers tracing the rim of a teacup I haven’t touched. The steam has long since faded, but I can’t bring myself to move. Ryland steps out of the shadows, his presence a low hum against my senses. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against the railing and stares into the trees. “Can’t sleep?” he asks finally, his voice soft. I shake my head. “Too much noise in my head.” He nods, like he understands. Maybe he does. The weight of the pack, the twins, the constant threat of Zane—it’s a lot for anyone to carry. “They’re getting stronger,” he says after a moment. “The twins. Lira says they’re progressing faster than she expected.” “That’s not always a good thing,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to the window where the twins sleep. “They’

Zara’s POV The first frost of the season dusts the forest floor, glittering like shattered diamonds under the pale morning sun. Winter has always been a time of quiet—of huddling close for warmth, of stories whispered by firelight. But this year, the cold feels different. It’s not just the chill in the air; it’s the weight of what we’ve survived, the ghosts of what we’ve lost. The twins sit cross-legged in the clearing, their breath visible in sharp puffs as Lira guides them through another lesson. Selene’s palms glow faintly, cradling a sphere of silver light, while Silas traces symbols in the air that linger like glowing embers. Their control is better now, steadier, but I still catch the flicker of fear in their eyes when the power surges. Ryland leans against a tree beside me, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving the twins. “They’re getting stronger every day,” he murmurs, pride softening the hard edges of his voice. “Too strong,” I say, my throat tight. “What happens w

Zara’s POV The air smells of pine and impending snow, the kind of cold that seeps into bones and whispers of long nights. The alliance campsite buzzes with tension tonight—not the sharp, battle-ready kind, but the simmering unease of wolves circling unfamiliar territory. Silverclaw, Northern Ridge, and Bloodfang mingling around fires, sharing meat but not words. The truce holds, but barely. Ryland stands at the center of it all, his voice steady as he discusses patrol rotations with Torin and Kaela. His Alpha aura hums low and constant, a grounding force. But I see the strain in the set of his shoulders, the way his gaze flicks to the twins every few minutes. Silas and Selene sit with Lira near the oldest oak, its branches clawing at the moonlit sky. Lira’s hands move as she speaks, painting stories in the air, while the twins trace glowing patterns in the frost. Selene laughs, her light flaring gold, but Silas’s silver sparks falter. His eyes dart to the shadows between the tree