Semua Bab The Lost Luna’s Return: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Kieran’s POVHis words sink in slowly—each one laced with poison that numbs my thoughts.“You know her, actually. Zoey,” Maven had said, smiling like he’d just won a prize.“What?” is all I can manage, my voice barely a whisper.“Yeah,” he repeats with a wider smile, one so casual it makes my skin crawl. That smile—that damned smile—is meant for my mate?It takes everything in me not to let Ragnar claw his way to the surface. My wolf thrashes against the walls of my chest, snarling to be set free.“That’s… good for you,” I say, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “If you’ll excuse me, I was heading to bed.”I rise, trying to keep my steps steady, but of course he follows.“So I’ll see you at the war prep tomorrow, right?” he calls from behind.I stop cold. “You have no business being there.”He shrugs as he walks past me. “Actually, as an Alpha and family, I have every right. So yes—you’ll see me there. Goodnight.”He disappears down the corridor, smug satisfaction radiating

Kieran’s POV I can’t bring myself to go into her room, no matter how loudly Ragnar is roaring in my head to. I stand frozen outside her door, fists clenched, my heartbeat thundering like war drums. Her scent drifts beneath the cracks—sweet vanilla and fresh coffee beans—and it only tightens the knot in my chest. After what I heard earlier, after the storm of emotions pounding through me, I’m not sure what I’d say to her if I walked in. So instead, I pivot and head for my office. Lucien is already there, slouched in the chair across from my desk, aggressively texting someone. His brows are drawn tight, fingers flying like he’s trying to beat the phone into submission. “For once, I’d like to come into my own damn office and not find someone sitting here,” I mutter, dropping into my chair and flipping open my MacBook. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even glance up. “Ahem.” I clear my throat loudly. Lucien finally looks up, his eyes bloodshot with frustration and worry. “What?” “What

Kieran’s POV It can’t be true. It can’t be true. It can’t be true. I chant the words like a prayer, a spell, a lifeline to keep me from spiraling. “Kieran?” Lucien’s voice slices through the fog of my thoughts. There’s caution in his tone, like he’s not sure which version of me he’s talking to right now. I point to Maven’s crumpled form, his body slumped on the floor like a rag doll still chained in the chair. “Help him up.” Lucien hesitates for half a second, then moves with Damon to prop the bastard up. Chains rattle as they drag him upright. His head droops forward, blood caking his hair, skin pallid—but the shallow rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s already healing. “He’s recovering fast,” Damon mutters, fingers brushing the dent in Maven’s skull. “Alpha blood’s a bitch.” I exhale a sharp breath through my nose and storm out of the cell, the cold dungeon air clinging to my skin like guilt. Lucien and Damon follow behind, their footsteps echoing softly against the st

Kieran's POV My feet refuse to move. Every instinct in me—every nerve ending, every pulse—screams to hold her. To pull her against me and never let go. Ragnar roars in my mind, telling me to rip the damn door off its hinges and just be near her. But I don’t. Because the look in her eyes still burns through me, and the tone in her voice—Goddess, that tone. It's not just pain. It’s disappointment. Disgust. And I caused it. I turn away from her door, forcing my feet down the hallway, my hands clenched at my sides. I make it to my office, slamming the door behind me, the echo rattling my bones. I try to focus on the papers waiting on my desk—intel from allied packs, border reports, war strategies—but the memory of her face keeps slipping into every corner of my mind. Eventually, the rhythm takes over. The work numbs me. My pen scratches lines across parchment, flipping pages, signing off missions. I bury myself in order and protocol to drown out the chaos inside me. Until— “Kier

Kieran’s POV Just like I wanted, the room falls into a thick, weighted silence. But Aubrey’s laughter cracks through it, jarring and high-pitched like broken glass. Everyone turns toward her as though she’s lost her mind. Honestly, I think she has. “I’m sorry,” she says with zero sincerity, giggles bubbling in her throat like venom. “But do you really expect us to believe that the lowest omega of a crumbling pack is responsible for that explosion? Or better yet—that she’s the mate of the Alpha King?” Scattered, hesitant chuckles echo after her, each one feeling more like a slap than a sound. One of the elders nods and adds smugly, “Exactly. Your mate is right here.” My body goes rigid. Rage coils in my gut like a spring. The blatant disrespect to Zoey tastes like ash in my mouth. “This is why you should’ve claimed her publicly weeks ago,” Ragnar grumbles, pacing like a caged beast in the back of my mind. “Then you wouldn’t have to explain if you killed every last one of them rig