All Chapters of Not Their Luna: A Female Alpha Story: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

BrynleeThe aftermath of the psychic contact with Rhett leaves me shaking with exhaustion and something that might actually be hope. For the first time in six months of endless twilight, I managed to break through whatever dimensional static has been blocking our mate bond. I reached Rhett. I called out to him across impossible distances, and I felt him respond.He heard me. I know he did.My wolf—restless and agitated since we arrived in this place—finally settles into something approaching calm. She's been pacing constantly beneath my skin, driven to distraction by our separation from our mate and pup. The brief contact wasn't enough to satisfy her completely, but it proved what we both needed to know: they're still there. Still alive. Still ours.Home, she whispers in my mind, the first clear communication I've had from her in weeks. Need to go home."I know, girl. I'm working on it."The landscape around me shifts as my emotional state changes, responding to hope the way it respond

RhettHarper Chen meets me at the edge of the forest preserve where the latest dimensional anomaly appeared. She's exactly as I remember from our previous pack business—tall and lean with an athletic build that speaks to years of tracking through difficult terrain. Her black hair is pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her dark eyes assess me with the same clinical intensity her father uses when evaluating pack security threats."You look like hell," she says without preamble, which is probably the most honest greeting I've gotten in months."Six months of grief will do that." I don't bother with pleasantries. Harper has always appreciated directness. "Show me what you found."She nods toward a barely visible trail that leads deeper into the woods. "The anomaly manifested about fifty yards in. It's... different from the others I've documented."As we walk, I study Harper's profile and wonder how much I should tell her about what happened this morning. She's been tracking dimensiona

Brynlee The first thing that hits me when I tumble through the dimensional tear is the smell of home. Pine trees and rich earth and the familiar scent markers of pack territory. After six months of silver emptiness where nothing smelled quite right, the intensity of it is almost overwhelming.The second thing that hits me is Rhett's arms, solid and warm and absolutely real. I press my face against his chest and breathe him in—his cologne mixed with sweat, the underlying scent that's purely him, the pack bonds that tie him to family and territory. Everything I've been desperately missing for six endless months."Is it really you?" he whispers against my hair, and I can hear the disbelief in his voice. Like he's afraid I might disappear if he acknowledges I'm actually here."It's really me," I tell him, pulling back just enough to see his face. He looks older, worn down by grief in a way that makes my heart ache. There are new lines around his eyes, a tightness to his mouth that wasn't

Rhett After Maya is tucked into bed, the house settles into a quiet that should feel peaceful but somehow doesn't. Brynlee is home. My mate is safe and alive and sitting on our bed less than ten feet away from me. This should be the happiest moment of my life.So why does guilt feel like a weight pressing down on my chest?I watch Brynlee as she moves around our bedroom, touching familiar objects like she's trying to convince herself they're real. Six months. She spent six months trapped in a dimensional void while I grieved and slowly started to heal and learned to live without her.Six months I could have been searching for her if I hadn't given up so easily."Rhett?" Brynlee's voice draws me out of my self-recrimination. She's standing by the dresser, holding the framed photo of the three of us from last Christmas. "You look like you're torturing yourself over something."The observation is so typically Brynlee—cutting straight through surface emotions to the heart of what's bother

RhettWhen the world rights itself, the only thing anchoring me to reality is Brynlee—her body wound tight beneath me, her chest heaving, her eyes bright and wet and fixed on my face. The look she gives me is raw, stripped of all pretense, like she’s realized this is the only place she can breathe. Our bond is a living, seething thing, fresh and miraculous and a little bit terrifying. I don’t know where she ends and I begin, and I don’t want to find the line.For a long time we just breathe, bodies tangled and slick, neither of us speaking. My own blood is still thrumming, spent but restless, and I press my forehead to hers, trying to catch my bearings. She's trembling, but not from fear. The shudders that ripple through her are aftershocks, primal and raw, like she's fighting her own body to stay rooted in the moment.When we finally collapse to our sides together, our bond is singing with contentment for the first time in six months. Brynlee curls against my side with a satisfied sig