All Chapters of The Rose Luna: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

RosemaryI was doing something Ethan specifically told me not to.The path leading to Amber’s cottage was overgrown, the forest pressing close as if nature itself sought to shield the small dwelling from prying eyes. The air was cool and damp, the faint scent of moss and earth mixing with the sharp tang of pine. I paused at the edge of the clearing, my breath steadying as I gazed at the unassuming cabin before me. Ethan had told me explicitly to stay away from here, not knowing what could be hidden in there. But I couldn’t.I had to know.The weight of her betrayal hung over me, heavy and suffocating. The woman who had lied to me since the day we met. The one who had taken me in, pretended to care, while keeping the truth hidden in the shadows of her own agenda. Anger simmered beneath my skin, a quiet, burning heat that drove me forward.I approached the door, my fingers hesitating on the handle before giving it a gentl

GraceIt had been almost a week since Dylan’s death, but time had lost all meaning. The days blurred into each other, each one heavier than the last, weighed down by a suffocating emptiness that I couldn’t escape. I could barely eat, barely sleep, barely breathe without him. It felt as though the world had tilted off its axis, leaving me adrift in a sea of grief that threatened to swallow me whole.He was gone.The thought echoed in my mind, relentless and cruel, carving deeper into the black hole that had opened in my chest. Dylan, my mate, my future, the man who had been my anchor, was gone. Every corner of the packhouse reminded me of him - his laughter that used to echo through the halls, his scent that lingered on the pillow beside mine, his voice that had been my constant reassurance. Now, all of it was a cruel reminder of what I had lost.Sometimes, the memories would surface - moments of joy, of warmth, of love so profound it felt as though it could never be broken. They came

RosemaryIt had been nearly two weeks since the battle, since Dylan’s death, since I gave birth and discovered the truth about what I was - a hybrid. Two weeks, and yet none of it felt real. The events seemed like fragmented pieces of a nightmare, disjointed and incomprehensible, refusing to settle into any semblance of clarity. I moved through the days as if I were watching someone else live my life, disconnected from everything around me.Ethan, on the other hand, had thrown himself into fatherhood with a quiet determination. He had fallen for her the moment he laid eyes on her. I’d seen it in the way he held her, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, the way he looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world.But I wasn’t there yet.I couldn’t be.Ethan had told me he’d hired a wet nurse, someone to care for Aurora while he was busy with pack duties. He’d explained it gently, as though reassuring me, but I’d felt the unspoken plea beneath his words.

RosemaryThe walk back to Ethan’s room felt different this time, though I couldn’t place exactly why. The air between us was thick with a quiet understanding, each of us holding onto the fragile moment we’d just shared in the garden. Aurora stirred in my arms, her small body warm against mine, and I instinctively tightened my hold, not ready to let her go just yet. Ethan walked beside me, his steps steady, his presence solid and grounding. He didn’t speak, didn’t push for anything more than what I was willing to offer, and I was grateful for that. There was no rush in his movements, no urgency in his expression - just quiet patience, as if he understood that this moment, fragile and tentative, was something I needed to move through at my own pace.When we reached the door, he stepped ahead, holding it open and gesturing for me to enter first. For a brief moment, I hesitated. His room had always been his space, comfortable, steady, and entirely Ethan. I had avoided coming here since th

RosemaryAs we lay together afterward, the room cloaked in a serene silence, I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander. My head rested against Ethan’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding me in a way I hadn’t thought possible. His arms were wrapped securely around me, his warmth enveloping me, creating a cocoon where the chaos of the outside world couldn’t touch us.And then, I noticed it, something subtle, something new. It wasn’t the sound of his heartbeat or the rise and fall of his chest. It was a feeling, faint but undeniable, stirring in the back of my mind. A warmth that wasn’t mine. A quiet hum of emotion that didn’t belong to me, but to him.“This is so weird,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could think to hold them back. My voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if speaking might shatter the fragile connection I had discovered.Ethan’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles along my back. His deep blue eyes met mine, and the corners of his lips lifted