All Chapters of The Lost Luna’s Return: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Zoey’s POVThe air feels different this morning—crisp, almost cleansing—as I step outside for a walk. It’s been too long since I let myself do something so simple. My boots crunch against the dew-dampened earth, and the sound feels too loud in the quiet that hangs between my thoughts.Part of me wants to be upset. Another part of me blames myself.Was I too forward?Maybe I should have talked to him first, before doing something so life-changing. Maybe he regrets it.The thought sits heavy in my chest like a stone. If he didn’t want it, he should’ve stopped me.But then again… should I have stopped me?“You’re overthinking it,” Mia rumbles in my head, her voice carrying that smug satisfaction I can’t bring myself to share. She’s proud of what we did—what I did—but pride feels like a language I’ve forgotten.Still, I can’t stop spiraling. I think as I walk, think as I circle back toward the pack house, and think even as the water runs over me in the shower—my mind replaying every feeli

Zoey’s POVThe day before me isn’t smiling at all. The air itself feels heavy, like the world knows what’s coming and wants to prepare me for it. Hard as I try, I can’t shake the weight of it off. Maybe because deep down, I know I could’ve avoided all of this—but it’s too late now.Why can’t I just stay in his arms forever? Just me and Kieran—no life-changing ceremony, no war, no vengeful brother waiting in the shadows.If only.“What are you really afraid of?”I slump into my usual spot across from him, the wooden chair creaking beneath me. His cabin smells faintly of burning sage and parchment, grounding me as always. “You know…I’m going to tell him, I am. But I need some clarity myself before I tell him.”He watches me with that calm, unreadable gaze that always makes me feel both seen and transparent. “So it’s not that you don’t want to tell him,” he repeats slowly, “it’s that all your secrets are standing in your way.”I nod, the truth of it pressing on my chest.“So what’s the p

Zoey’s POVOur backs are still touching when I open my eyes to the new morning, the faint warmth of Kieran’s body radiating through the thin space between us. The room is quiet, peaceful even, but my mind is anything but. I’m grateful I didn’t slip back into another dream — the last one still scrapes at my nerves, its meaning clawing at me from the shadows. I know I have to tell him eventually. Anders was right. The closer we get to the end of this week, the harder it becomes to keep secrets from him. Everything in me aches to just tell him… yet I don’t know how to break the truth open without breaking something between us.My early morning walk should’ve cleared my mind, but it only amplified the knot sitting heavy in my chest. And somehow, my steps lead me back to the only place that feels stable right now — the lonely cabin tucked at the edge of the lawn.When I push open the door, I’m expecting Anders to be hunched over his bowl like always. Instead, he’s settled in his rocking ch

Zoey’s POV It takes me a minute to remember where I am. The ceiling above me is too high, the scent too unfamiliar, the sheets too bright to belong to me. I blink up at the bright room, at the warm afternoon glow seeping through the curtains, and only then do I notice the clothes scattered across the floor—shredded, tangled, thrown aside like they meant nothing. A thin, nearly transparent layer of fabric is the only thing covering my body, clinging to me like a whisper. And then everything comes back. Last night. His hands. My hands. The way we fell apart and came back together. The way I felt him everywhere. My heart lurches so hard I press a hand to my chest. My other hand drifts lower before I can stop it, settling instinctively between my legs like touching that place will confirm the truth. I can’t believe I did that. That we just… did that. My shaky breath catches, and my hand moves from my chest to my stomach, resting there as a new thought flickers—terrifying, imp

Zoey’s POVWaking up in this brown room still feels strange.The unfamiliarity hits me every morning before my eyes are even fully open. The scent of old wood and herbs, the faint crackle of warmth lingering in the air, the quiet stillness that feels too deliberate to be accidental. It is nothing like what I am used to—and yet, somehow, it is better than the dingy basement I once called a room back in Arrow Heart.That alone should make me grateful.Anders’ cabin has become my refuge for the past few days. A sanctuary carved out of necessity rather than choice. I tell myself that it is temporary, that I will not be here forever, but the truth settles heavy in my chest: I don’t know where else I could go.I reluctantly drag myself into an upright position, the blankets sliding off my shoulders as I stretch lazily. My body aches in that dull, persistent way that comes from exhaustion rather than exertion. Ever since that day, sleep has become a scarce luxury. Every time I close my eyes,