All Chapters of Not Their Luna: A Female Alpha Story: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

BrynleeConsciousness returns in pieces—the taste of metal in my mouth, the ache in my injured leg, the disorienting sensation of being somewhere completely unfamiliar. My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and my limbs are heavy in a way that suggests I've been drugged with something much stronger than a standard tranquilizer.I try to move and immediately discover I'm restrained. Not ropes or chains, but some kind of padded restraint system that holds me in place without causing obvious injury. Professional, clinical, designed to contain without damaging.Where are we? Naya asks groggily. My wolf is weak, confused, struggling to surface through whatever chemical fog they've put in our system.I force my eyes open and immediately regret it as harsh fluorescent lighting sends spikes of pain through my skull. The room comes into focus slowly—concrete walls, no windows, several pieces of medical equipment that I don't recognize. It looks like a cross between a laboratory and a hol

Rhett The pack tracker network responds faster than I expected, but their news isn't encouraging. Within hours of Harper's calls, I have confirmation that three other packs across two states have reported similar disappearances—wolves who vanished without a trace, always after showing signs of unusual behavior or instability."Pattern suggests organized hunting," reports Mario from the Eastern Ridge pack via video call. "But not traditional hunters. These people know how we track, how we move, how we think.""Any recoveries?" I ask, though I already know the answer from his expression."None. Once they're taken, they're gone."The call ends, leaving Harper and me in my kitchen staring at maps and reports that paint an increasingly grim picture. Maya is upstairs sleeping, blissfully unaware that her mother has become part of a pattern of organized disappearances targeting specific members of wolf communities."It's not random," Harper says, studying the geographic distribution of missi

Brynlee The second time I wake up is clearer than the first, though my head still feels like it's wrapped in fog. The drugs are wearing off faster this time—either my body is building up a tolerance or they gave me a smaller dose. Either way, I'm more aware of my surroundings and the reality of my situation.I'm still restrained, but I can feel the mate bond stirring weakly in the background of my consciousness. Not strong enough to maintain communication with Rhett, but present enough that I know he's actively looking for me.Help is coming, I tell Naya, who's been unconscious for most of our captivity. Mate is hunting for us.Can feel him, she responds groggily. Far but getting closer. Need to be ready.She's right. If Rhett is going to mount a rescue, I need to be prepared to help rather than remain a passive victim waiting to be saved.The facility around me is quiet except for the hum of ventilation systems and the occasional sound of footsteps in distant corridors. But there are

RhettFinley arrives at the containment facility with enough backup to wage a small war, and from the look on her face, she's prepared to do exactly that if necessary. Dane and Liam flank her as she approaches our surveillance position, but they're not alone. Six other pack members I recognize from security details trail behind them, all armed and wearing the kind of grim expressions that mean someone is about to have a very bad night."Report," Finley says without preamble, her Alpha authority cutting through the tension like a blade.Harper spreads out the facility blueprints she managed to acquire through the tracker network, pointing to key areas as she explains what we've discovered. "Research facility, government-contracted, designed for long-term containment of multiple subjects. Security is sophisticated—motion sensors, thermal imaging, and armed personnel.""How many captives?" Finley asks."At least seventeen based on the intelligence we've gathered. Possibly more."I watch m

Brynlee The drugs are wearing off in waves, leaving me alternately clear-headed and dizzy as my body fights to process whatever Dr. Gorian's people injected me with. One moment I'm fully aware of sitting in the passenger seat of Rhett's truck, his familiar scent grounding me in the reality of being rescued. The next, I'm struggling to focus through a chemical fog that makes everything feel distant and unreal."How are you doing?" Rhett asks for the third time in ten minutes, his voice carrying the careful concern of someone monitoring a potentially unstable situation."Better," I tell him, and it's mostly true. The nausea is fading, my coordination is returning, and most importantly, the mate bond feels stronger and more stable than it has since I came home from the dimensional void.But there's something fragile about our connection, like we're both afraid to trust it completely after weeks of unpredictable fluctuations."The bond," I say quietly, not sure how to ask what I need to k