บททั้งหมดของ Mooncursed: Fated to the Alphas: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

Pain is the first thing I feel.Heavy, dragging pain that clings to my bones like molten iron.My eyes crack open slowly.The world swims.Stone walls. Cold. Damp. A single torch flickering somewhere to my left. My wrists ache—raw—from whatever rope or chain bound them before someone finally removed it. My body feels… wrong. Heavy. Hollow. The heat still coils under my skin, but muted, smothered, like someone put a hand over my mouth and nose and forced silence on me.Storm is a whisper, barely there but still conscious enough for me to know that she’s fine.…Rain…Faint.Weak.Choked.I try to sit up.A sharp sting snaps through my spine.My hand flies to my neck, my fingers brush cold metal.A rune collar. A witch rune.My blood goes cold.Caius used a suppression charm on me before the portal, and now… this. A full collar. Thick, silver, carved with markings I don’t recognize. It hums against my skin, biting, burning.I have always heard stories about witches but had never seen the

Lina’s head popped back into the room just in time.“Miss, the guards have gone for a walk round the castle, a new set of guards will be arriving in few minutes, you have to hurry!” She whispered, eyes darting around fear.I nodded, standing to my feet.The moment she left, I rushed to the window, tearing the sheets off the bed with shaking hands. My body still ached in confusing, and weakening state, and my broken wrist wasn’t helping at all, the fear in me sharpened everything into ice.Caius.Of all people to fall into the hands of…I would rather die.My fingers and mouth worked slow, knotting sheet to sheet, pulling hard to make sure they held. The silk burned my palms, but the pain kept me focused. Escape first. Breathe later. Every second counted. Caius thought he owned time, space, fate itself. I wasn’t giving him mine.A muffled thump sounded behind me.I froze.Then, under the vanity table a tiny draft. A seam in the wall.The servants’ corridor.Just where Lina said it wo

The sun began to sink almost as if it was ready for the day to be over. Suri returns just as the first bell tolls through the keep, low and solemn. “It’s time, my lady” she whispers. Her hands tremble as she lifts the ceremonial gown from the chair. White. Too white. Heavy silk embroidered with silver runes meant to symbolize submission, fertility, obedience. A bride’s dress. A prisoner’s shroud. The rune was no longer on my neck, which I am very grateful for. I can now feel Storm waking up fully in me, and that alone brought me more peace than anything. None of my mates were here to save me. Maybe they are dead or just decided to let me go.Ironic isn’t bit? I had always wanted them to let me go, but the very moment when I need them, they aren’t here breathing down my throat.I walk to the room that held the bath Suri had prepared.I don’t fight it when the doors close behind me.The sound echoes too loudly in the chamber, a hollow boom that settles into my bones. I stand the

Darkness doesn’t come all at once. It folds. Like fabric drawn over my eyes, heavy and soft, smelling of earth and old rain. My body is gone—no weight, no pain, no heat curling between my thighs, no blood on my hands. Just floating. Just… drifting. Storm is quiet. Not gone maybe just tired maybe. It’s been so long since she had been allowed to act on her own fury and tonight…….she was amazing. I tilt my head, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness but instead the darkness splits. Light bleeds in, golden and warm, and suddenly I’m standing barefoot in grass that glows silver at the tips. The sky above me isn’t the sky I know—it’s older. Heavier. The moon hangs low and enormous, pulsing like a living thing. I know this place. Not because I’ve seen it. But because somewhere in my memory I recognized it. Voices reach me first. Soft. Urgent. Afraid. I move toward them walking in slow pace, pulled by something deep and aching in my chest. Two figures crouch

Draven POV Rain Sleeps. Her breathing is uneven, shallow at first, then deeper as the minutes stretch on. Every so often her brow creases, lips parting on a silent sound, and my chest tightens like something is twisting it from the inside. Whatever she saw in that fractured place between consciousness and memory didn’t leave her gently. I don’t move from the chair beside the window. I don’t trust myself to. She looks younger like this. Young and at peace. I sit, arms crossed around my chest, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest like it’s the only thing tethering me to restraint. The room smells like her, storm-warmth, and wet forest, like the smell of the earth after Rain. Daemon leans against the far wall, silent for once. Darius sits in the chair beside her, head bowed, forearms braced on his knees like he’s praying to something that stopped listening a long time ago. None of us speak at first. Then Darius breaks the silence, voice low. “She called them by