All Chapters of Alpha’s Moonchild: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

Deric I left the pack tower that day with a weight in my chest I couldn’t quite name. The fog clung to the trees and paths as if it knew I was lost, trying to pull me back, to hold me in some kind of suspended limbo where everything made sense but nothing did at all. I walked without direction, the crunch of fallen leaves under my boots the only sound daring to disturb the oppressive silence that had settled around me. Every step I took, I ran through the conversation with Elvira. Her words replayed in my mind, looping endlessly, tangled in every memory I had of her from the first day I had seen her, down to the last time we spoke. She had called me her brother, and for a heartbeat, I had denied it. I wanted to deny it, to push it away. But the birthmark… the exact pattern she had described, the one hidden at the nape of her neck, the same one I had inherited—it was irrefutable. I stopped abruptly, letting the memory wash over me. My mind reeled. My father had told me I was adopted

Elyra POV I barely had time to collect my thoughts before Kale’s hand found mine, firm and grounding, as we stepped through the carved doors of Pack Tower. The walls, lined with ancestral banners, carried the scent of polished stone. A hush fell over the hall as we walked, every step echoing like a drumbeat against the marble floors. My heart pounded, not from fear, exactly, but from the weight of what we were about to do. Kale guided me toward the ceremonial dais at the center of the room. It was raised slightly, surrounded by the pack leaders whose faces reflected a spectrum of reactions: curiosity, pride, apprehension, and a quiet edge of hostility. I swallowed hard, clutching his hand tighter. “Elyra,” Kale whispered, his voice low but steady, “we are ready.” I nodded, trying to steady the tremor that had crept into my chest. The ritual wasn’t just symbolic, it was a formal acknowledgment that we were bound as mates, recognized by our pack and its traditions. And though I trus

Jaxon Dawn had barely begun to stretch its pale fingers across the horizon, yet the corridors of the Tower already hummed with activity. Pack members moved like shadows, glances darting between them. I could feel it before I even reached the balcony: something had shifted. I stepped onto the balcony, fingers trailing along the cold iron railing. The wind whipped my hair into my eyes, carrying with it the forest’s damp scent. Beneath me, the courtyard stretched wide and empty except for a few early risers stretching their limbs, eyes sharp and scanning. The scene was deceptively calm. Calm, I had learned, was the prelude to chaos. Elvira arrived without fanfare, her presence soft but insistent beside me. She rested her hands on the railing, leaning slightly forward, the morning light catching in her hair and highlighting the faint line of worry between her brows. “Jaxon,” she said quietly, her voice steady, “there’s been movement. Scouts caught two of Felen’s lieutenants trying to

Jaxon The night was a knife against my skin, sharp and cold, I could feel the tension thrumming through my chest, every heartbeat echoing in my ears like a war drum. Callen was gone. Dead. And Carlton had the nerve to keep breathing, to keep walking among humans and wolfs as if nothing mattered. As if he hadn’t spat on everything I loved. Elvira’s voice haunted the edges of my mind. “Jaxon, you can’t let rage make your decisions.” I clenched my fists. She was wrong this time. This wasn’t anger; this was justice. Controlled, inevitable, necessary. Callen hadn’t just been a packmate—he had been a brother, loyal to the end. And Carlton had ended him, with that smug, arrogant smile on his face, laughing at the “weird smells” of my kind. Every word he’d ever sneered at me, at my people, fueled the fire now burning through my veins now. I left the city lights behind, the hum of human life fading as I drove along the winding road to Carlton’s estate. The forest swallowed me whole, and I

Cassian The air in the council chamber was filled with tension, the kind that seemed to press down on your shoulders and make each breath a conscious effort. I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears as I stepped over the threshold, my boots echoing off the stone floor with every deliberate step. Faces turned toward me, some wary, some hostile, but none as sharp as Elvira’s. She sat there like a statue carved from ice, her gaze locked on me, piercing through the layers of lies I’d spent a lifetime weaving. I swallowed, tasting the coppery taste of fear mingled with guilt. My dad was dead. The man who had shaped me, twisted me, who had taught me to be loyal to a family that had never really been mine—gone. And yet here I was, standing in the very hall where my betrayals would be laid bare. “I—I need to speak,” I began, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to sound steady. The council members leaned in, their whispers fading into silence as I drew a deep, shu