All Chapters of Alpha’s Moonchild: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Elvira’s POV I walked straight down the long, dim hallway that led to Brielle’s room. The old floorboards under the carpet groaned softly beneath my steps, the muted creak echoing faintly in the silence of the east wing. A shaft of pale light from a high, narrow window cut across the corridor, dust motes swirling lazily in the air. My heart thudded in my chest, not out of fear, but out of the quiet determination that had been building in me all morning. Ever since I isolated myself weeks ago, Brielle had distanced herself from me. She no longer lingered in the kitchen to chat over tea. She no longer dropped by my room with a sly smile and some gossip from the other side of the tower. She passed me in hallways with polite nods, the warmth in her eyes replaced by something unreadable. But that wasn’t the reason I was going to her now. No—this was about something else entirely. I wanted to ask her if she knew anything about Denrik. The name had been burning a hole in my thoughts for

Cassian I’d been trailing Elvira for nearly fifteen minutes. Elvira’s stride had that clipped, purposeful rush to it, like she was chasing an answer and didn’t care who stood in her way. From the shadowed corner of the hallway, I watched her disappear into Brielle’s room, the door swinging shut behind her. I frowned. What business did she have with Brielle? I couldn’t recall the last time those two had even exchanged more than polite nods. Since Elvira’s sudden “isolation,” she’d kept her distance from nearly everyone, Elvira included. And yet, here Elvira was — walking straight into her room without hesitation. Something prickled at the back of my neck. I leaned against the wall opposite her door, folding my arms, pretending to study the faded tapestry that hung there. The corridor was quiet enough to hear the faint creak of floorboards under shifting weight. A muted rustle of fabric. Then stillness. The minutes stretched. She wasn’t coming out. I was pressed and I needed to

Elvira The moment I stepped out of the council chamber, the cool hallway air hit me like a shockwave. I felt the weight of what had just transpired pressing down on my chest, and I was trying to steady my breathing, to force myself to walk with purpose, but then it hit, a sharp, piercing pain at the center of my skull, like someone had pressed a thousand tiny needles against my temples at once. The high-pitched ringing in my ears made the world tilt, the walls bending as if the stone itself were melting. I reached out instinctively, hands fumbling against the cold surface nearest to me, fingers pressing into the carved carvings of the wall for support. The pain was more than physical, it was as if something inside me, some corner of my mind I had long locked away, had been yanked open without warning. And then it came: the memories. I stumbled backward, forcing myself to sit on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall, my knees drawn up, arms clutching my head. The flood starte

Elvira I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides. How many times had I pushed him away? How many times had I convinced myself that his presence would only suffer if I let myself stay close? But tonight, I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t sleep. I had tried. I had tried to drown myself in the heat of a bath, letting the water mask the ache in my chest, the guilt that clawed at my heart. Yet nothing worked. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his silhouette, his jaw tight, his eyes guarded, the tension in his shoulders that spoke of the distance I had forced between us. I shook my head, stepping closer, my bare feet silent against the cool stone floor. Guards and maids, the usual bustling of the tower, had been questioned, corners checked, halls scoured—and still, he had eluded me. It was as if he was deliberately hiding from the world, from me, from the pain I had caused. And yet, here he was, alone, training under the moonlight, each motion a testament to his discipline,

Elvira I woke up to the soft morning light spilling into the room, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. The warmth of the sheets, the lingering scent of Jaxon’s cologne, and the quiet rhythm of his breathing beside me, it was all too comforting, too real. I shifted slightly and felt the weight of a hand tracing lazy circles on my skin. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was, staring down at me with that familiar, intense gaze. For a brief second, I nearly flinched. I’ve spent weeks apart from him, so much of our history tangled in anger, hurt, and misunderstanding. But the truth was, I had been craving this closeness, these small moments of intimacy that I had been too stubborn or too scared to embrace. “Is this real?” Jaxon whispered, his voice low, husky with lingering sleep. “I’ve been staring at you since four a.m., wondering if you’ll disappear if I blink too fast.” I laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room and making the air around us warm. “I’m here,” I s