All Chapters of The Lost Luna’s Return: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Zoey’s POVLeaving the office with Raven, I feel more confident than I ever have in my entire life. The air feels different, like the world is subtly acknowledging my shift. My steps are lighter, my thoughts clearer.“Whew,” Raven exhales as we descend the stairs of the pack house. The late morning light filters in through the high windows, casting golden rays over her dark curls. “That was intense.”“I know, right?” I reply, the edges of my mouth curving into a smirk.“And you actually kept Kieran in check,” she says with amusement, nudging me. “No one has ever been able to do that. Not even Aubrey.”My cheeks flush at the comment. The warmth in my face spreads to my chest, a quiet thrill rising with the realization of just how strong the mate bond is. It's more than emotional—it’s cosmic. Powerful.The entire walk to Anders’ cabin, a smile teases my lips, refusing to leave.“Wow,” Anders says as I step into his cabin. The rustic smell of his home greets me, earthy and grounding. “So

Zoey’s POV I try not to think of the worst-case scenario. He’s the Alpha King of the werewolves, after all—one preparing for war to defend his throne. If anyone embodies the word busy, it’s him. Yes. That has to be it. So, I dress slowly, forcing my hands not to tremble as I slip on one of the oversized shirts I’ve come to favor. I take a deep breath and try to resume my routine, pretending that everything is fine. Lucien and I usually have breakfast together by now, but as the minutes tick by, that hope dissolves like mist. Then, a text buzzes on my phone. “Can’t make breakfast this morning. But Raven will be there soon. Meet up later.” —Luce. I stare at the message for a long second before nodding to myself, even though no one’s there to see it. It’s okay. He’s just... busy. Soon enough, there’s a knock at the door. Raven stands on the other side, her normally easy going demeanor replaced with an anxious tightness in her eyes. “You ready?” she asks. I nod, not trusting mys

Zoey's POVThe sound of dripping water lingers in the distance, a slow and rhythmic echo in the silence. My eyes flutter open, the bruised skin on my cheek a painful reminder of what happened just before I lost consciousness. My heart stutters in my chest, a fearful thrum that vibrates with the terror of what I saw—and what I thought I saw. The confusion creeps in like a cold fog. Could it have been real? Or was it just a twisted product of fatigue, of the Moonbane root that had been pumped into my system.I try to reassure myself, I tell myself it’s not possible. Even if Zach is alive, he wouldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t do something like this.And then, I hear it. The voices.“Are you sure this is the best thing?” A voice I recognize.“It’s fine,” another responds, low and deliberate. “They’ll never think to check here.”Their words slice through my foggy mind, dragging me back to the present. The thin thread of strength I have left urges me to peek my heavy eyelids open j

Zoey’s POV Hot water or cold water. I can’t decide. The hot water scorches my skin, lashing me like a punishment I deserve. Punishment for what, I can’t even put into words—maybe for the crime Zach believes I committed. The crime I don’t remember, but the one that lingers like smoke clinging to my lungs. Then I twist the knob, and the cold crashes over me. It numbs me. It silences the burn, the guilt, the ache in my chest. It makes me feel like nothing at all, and maybe that’s worse. I go back and forth for what feels like hours. Boiling heat, freezing cold. Pain and numbness. A cruel rhythm I can’t seem to stop. Each shift feels like me bargaining with myself, punishing, then forgiving, then punishing again. But I know I can’t stay under forever. The water drips from my hair when I finally twist the knobs shut. My breaths are shallow, shaky, but at least I look less like the broken thing I feel inside. My hair is clean. My face is flushed but clear, the bruise nearly gone. The

Zoey’s POV The remnants of my dream still cling to me like smoke when a sharp knock jolts me back into the waking world. My mind is restless, replaying flashes I don’t want to remember, yet before I can untangle them, I’m crawling out of bed and pulling open the door. Lucien stands there, leaning casually against the frame, his grin cocky but softer than usual. His energy feels lighter than it did this morning, as though some of the heaviness hanging over him has finally lifted. “I know breakfasts are more of our thing,” he says, tilting his head, “but I was thinking all meals count.” The corners of my lips twitch upward despite the haze in my head. He always has a way of tugging a smile out of me. “Why not,” I reply, my voice a little raspy from sleep. I return his grin with a small one of my own, then step out of the room to follow him. We descend the stairs together, the scent of roasted herbs and warm bread drifts from the kitchen, comforting and grounding. On the counter, two pl