Semua Bab The Full Moon Murders : Bab 51 - Bab 60

The air turned colder as night swallowed the forest, but Evelyn didn’t stop moving. She half-carried, half-dragged Holt through the thick underbrush, each step a battle between exhaustion and instinct. Her body ached from the shift, her skin still raw where the wolf had torn through. Blood matted her hair. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin of sweat and dirt.Behind her, the Circle was regrouping. She could feel them, not with her eyes or ears, but deep in her gut. They wouldn't give up so easily. Not after what she did. Not after what she was.But she wasn't running just to save herself now. Holt was breathing, shallow but steady. That was all that mattered.She found shelter in the ruins of an old ranger station, the roof half-collapsed, walls riddled with moss and mold. But it had cover. A place to breathe. A place to survive.She laid Holt down gently. His pulse was thready. The makeshift tourniquet had held, but the wound needed more. She rummaged through what remained o

The wolves had circled her.Feral, old blood, even some half-turned. Dozens of eyes glinting in the dark, drawn by something deeper than instinct — something ancient. And Evelyn, standing at the shattered altar, no longer hiding from what she was.She didn’t command them. She didn’t plead.She felt them. Their pain. Their rage. Their history.And they followed her because they knew — she wasn’t made in a lab or built by some twisted protocol.She was born of ruin. Of lineage.Of war.Rowan stepped forward, his voice steady. “There’s a reason they kept Morrow off every map. The town was a tomb — but also a vault. Come.”He led her to the remains of the chapel’s back wall, where soot covered an old trapdoor. The wood groaned as they pulled it open. Below, a stairway chiseled in stone, damp and trembling. Evelyn hesitated, but her pulse knew the way. flickered on their own — old flame sensors. The corridor was narrow and lined with relics: faded banners, blood-stained parchment, and etc

The precinct smelled like old coffee, bleach, and something Evelyn couldn’t name. Something tense, like air before a storm.She didn’t want to be here.Not like this. Not after everything. But Reyes had told her to lay low, and truth be told, she didn’t know where else to go anymore.“Hey,” Mason said, falling into step beside her as she passed the bullpen. “Just for a minute. Come on.”She narrowed her eyes. “What now?”He didn’t answer — just nodded toward the break room.When she walked in, it hit her: balloons. Cheap ones. A lopsided cake from a local bakery. A single candle.She froze.Someone — probably Elara — had scrawled “Happy Birthday, E” on a folded napkin and pinned it to the bulletin board.“Don’t look at me like that,” Mason said. “It’s just cake. Doesn’t mean we’re not still hunting traitors.”She half-smiled. Half-grimaced.“I forgot it was today.”“You forgot your own birthday?”“I forget a lot of things lately.”He handed her a plastic fork and muttered, “Make a wis

The envelope slipped from Evelyn’s fingers.She stared at the article, the circled name, the accusation inked beneath in a sharp, angry scrawl. She lied to you. You’re not the only one they made. The paper crinkled in her grip as her mind raced.Wendy.Was she part of it? Another subject like Evelyn? Or worse — a plant? A lie wrapped in grief, dropped on that rooftop just to set Evelyn on this path?But then why save her? Why deliver the envelope, the photo, the warning?Unless that too had been orchestrated.Evelyn stood abruptly, the room suddenly too small. Her breathing sounded loud in the silence. She walked to the sink and splashed water on her face, gripping the porcelain edges until her knuckles turned white.She couldn’t trust anyone — not even the people who seemed broken like her. Especially not them.A knock.Not at the door this time — her window.She turned fast, gun already in hand, safety off. But when she pulled the curtain back, she froze.It was Mason.Rain soaked t

Rain hammered the city like it was trying to drown the truth.Evelyn stood beneath the crumbling awning of an abandoned print shop, her breath sharp in the cold night air. Her coat was soaked through. Her knuckles were bloodied. The USB drive in her fist felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.This was it. Everything Reyes had buried. Everything the Circle tried to erase. Photos. Names. Procedures. Lab reports. The Bellwether Protocol. Neural suppression tech. The placement program. Julian. Herself. All of it.She'd send it all.She’d been running, hiding, fighting, bleeding for too long. And they kept controlling the story. Not anymore.Her burner phone buzzed once. Mason. Again. She ignored it.The city's data dump was just two blocks down — a hub for whistleblowers and hackers, protected by a loose alliance of anti-corporate watchdogs and street-level technomancers. She didn’t need to trust them. She just needed the files to spread.One truth at a time.Earlier That DayMason slamme