All Chapters of The Full Moon Murders : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The forest reeked of blood and gunpowder. Evelyn’s breath fogged in the cold air as she ran, heart thundering like a drum against her ribs. Behind her, the screams had stopped. That was worse than hearing them.Lucian didn’t say a word. He moved ahead, his shoulders hunched, muscles coiled tight like a wolf still waiting to pounce. His scent—earth, pine, and something wild—lingered in the air as Evelyn struggled to keep up. Her legs ached, her throat burned. But she couldn’t stop. Not now.A clearing broke through the trees. The ruined husk of an old ranger station sagged beneath snow-dusted beams. Lucian jerked open the door and motioned her inside.“Won’t hold them long,” he muttered, eyes scanning the dark treeline. “But it’s something.”Inside, Evelyn collapsed against the wall, gasping. The air stank of rot and old wood. Dust stirred with every breath.Lucian’s silhouette loomed in the dark, his eyes catching what little light remained—those unmistakable predator eyes. Still glow

Evelyn didn’t know how long they’d been running—just that her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. Every breath scraped like glass down her throat. The forest blurred around her, trees spinning by in smears of brown and green. Lucian was ahead, always just out of reach, silent and fast like a shadow that refused to wait.She stumbled.Didn’t fall.Keep going.But her side was wet. Warm. She pressed her palm there and felt the sick, sticky heat of blood soaking through her shirt.Lucian finally slowed near a fallen tree. He crouched low, checking the air like a wild animal scenting danger, then waved her forward.Evelyn dropped beside him, gasping, the cold moss beneath her a small relief. “They’re not behind us.”“They will be,” he said without looking at her. “They always are.”She winced and shifted. Pain flared sharp through her ribs.Lucian turned. His eyes flicked to the dark stain spreading beneath her jacket. “You’re bleeding again.”“I noticed,” she muttered.“Let me see.”“I’m fine.”

Evelyn stared into the blackness beyond the Door.It wasn’t just dark—it was heavy. Like a vacuum pressing against her chest. Something ancient, vast, and wrong stirred beyond the threshold, brushing her consciousness with the familiarity of a nightmare she’d never had—yet somehow always carried.“Close it,” Lucian growled, backing away. “Whatever’s in there, it remembers you.”She didn’t answer.Her feet edged closer.Inside the Door, the air shimmered. Shapes moved, too fast to be fully seen—like wolves made of shadow and bone. Whispers swirled around her, one voice cutting through the rest:> “E-113. Return.”She blinked. The world around her tilted. Her vision wavered—flashing images: a sterile white room, restraints biting into her wrists, her mother’s face pale with guilt, and Damian’s voice murmuring something about a key.The realization hit her hard—they didn’t just make her for this. They made her do it.Lucian grabbed her arm, grounding her. “Evelyn. You don’t belong to the

The file cabinet snapped shut behind Anika, but the tremor in her hands didn’t stop. The more she read, the worse it got. Evelyn’s life—the police academy, her transfer to Redbrook, even her first case—had been quietly nudged into place.The last page was different. A surveillance photo. Grainy. Two people in a forest clearing. Evelyn… and Lucian.Scrawled beneath:“If she bonds with him, we lose control.”She didn’t know what the Circle truly wanted, but she knew this: Evelyn was never just a cop. And someone had known it from the start.Captain Reyes arrived minutes later, his face grim as she spread the documents before him. “This goes higher than I thought,” he murmured. “We were just pawns in something old. Deep.”Anika’s jaw tightened. “Then it’s time we stopped playing their game.”The tie itched at his throat. Applause filled the council chamber, but Damian barely heard it. Another bill passed. Another piece of power secured.Yet his mind was miles away—in a hospital room. Wit

The machines beeped steadily. Sterile light hummed above. The room smelled clean, lifeless.Evelyn hadn’t moved in days.Anika sat beside her, dark circles under her eyes, fingers laced around a cold paper coffee cup. She didn’t speak anymore—not to Evelyn, not really. Just sat there, hoping. Praying. Sometimes whispering stories they used to laugh at, back at the precinct. Ghosts of normal.But today, something shifted.A nurse paused at the door. “The swelling’s gone down,” she murmured. “No improvement in neural response, but… her heart rate spiked last night. Just for a moment.”Anika’s gaze snapped to Evelyn’s face. She looked exactly the same. Still, pale, breath soft.But deep inside—buried in the quiet—something stirred.Not pain. Not memory.Instinct.A dream. A forest. Snow crunching beneath bare feet. The flash of yellow eyes. Heat in her bones. A call—distant, pulsing. Familiar.She turned in that dark world, her unconscious mind pulling toward it.And somewhere in the rea