Semua Bab A Luna And A Whore : Bab 51 - Bab 60

The moon was full but shy, veiled behind bruised clouds that barely parted as morning cracked open like a ribcage.By the time the sun bled gold across Blackfang’s stone courtyard, the summons had already been issued. A gathering. A formal audience. The kind Jasmine had grown used to watching others endure, but never standing at the center of. This time, she was the center.And the wolves were hungry.The hall had been prepared. Silk banners in silver and blood-red swayed gently overhead, and the dais was polished until it gleamed like a throat just before the bite. Elders lined the curved walls in ceremonial coats, their eyes shining with curiosity, calculation, and desire.They wanted to see the girl who had upset their hierarchy.The Omega who didn’t kneel.And Roger stood waiting for her. Not in his usual black, but something close to regal—wolf-dark armor, burnished leather, silver threading at his cuffs. He looked like war dressed as royalty.But Jasmine didn’t come like a bride

The morning air was thick with heat, despite the fact that the sun had barely crowned the mountains. It clung to the earth like breath caught between parted lips, heavy and moist. Dew still clung to the training yard’s grass, but tension had long since burned away any trace of cool.Kade stood at the center of the sparring ring, stripped to the waist, body carved in brutal elegance. Each muscle flexed like it had its own mind, glistening with sweat under the lazy sunlight. His eyes, storm-colored and slow-burning, didn’t leave Jasmine.She approached without ceremony, shedding her outer cloak with a whisper of silk. Beneath, her sparring garb clung tight to her skin—black, sleeveless, and open-backed. Every line of her was deliberate. Dangerous. Daring.No one spoke.The ring was ringed by silence. Elders. Betas. Rogues in disguise. They watched from the shadows and under polished balconies, pretending to be indifferent. But their hunger painted the air.Jasmine stepped into the circl

The court was quiet.Not the kind of quiet that came with peace—no, this silence held its breath like a beast in tall grass, eyes narrowed, waiting. The bonfire in the center of the arena crackled with low hunger, licking its flames along carved stone bowls filled with fragrant oil. The smoke curled toward the rafters, thick with the scent of musk, ash, and jasmine.Jasmine stood alone in the sparring ring.Her body gleamed with sweat and moonlight, silk trousers clinging to her hips, her bare arms wrapped in thin cords of gold. Her mouth was set. Her eyes watched everything.Around her, Blackfang's elites lined the perimeter—warriors, Alphas, Betas, and beasts pretending to be men. All of them hushed now, sharpened. The air felt like foreplay—slow, taut, inevitable.And then, Kade stepped through the smoke.Not summoned. Not announced. Just a shadow becoming a shape, a shape becoming a man.His shirt hung open, collarbones dusted with ash, his mouth twisted into a grin that wasn’t ki

The arena bled moonlight.Rough-cut stone ringed the clearing like ancient teeth, half-swallowed by moss, kissed by age. Torches burned in deep alcoves, low and smoky, scenting the air with cedar and ash. The crowd pressed close—wolves, warriors, and watching courtiers alike—drawn by whispers that crackled through Blackfang like a spark through dry fur.They were going to fight.And Jasmine was going to watch.She didn’t sit like a queen tonight.She stood. Alone. Barefoot in the grass. Silk coiling down her thighs in ribbons of shadow and seduction. Her throat was bare. Her lips a bruised wine-red. And the look in her eyes dared every man in the circle to choke on his breath.She had been summoned here by no one.And yet all of them had come for her.Roger stood at one end of the circle, shirtless, arms bare to the shoulder, chest rising with the slow, deadly calm of a beast used to being obeyed. The scars that mapped him told old stories. The fresh ones... were just beginnings.Acro

The moon hung low, swollen and mute, casting a sickly sheen over Blackfang’s stone corridors. Jasmine had spent most of the night in silence, walking the edges of the courtyard barefoot, the hem of her silk robe dragging like a ghost behind her.She hadn't slept. Not really. Just drifted in and out of dreams that smelled like smoke.She didn’t know why she stopped at the gate.Maybe instinct.Maybe hunger.Maybe the gods had whispered.But she was there when the survivors came.The first was a woman—barefoot, hair singed, eyes wide and wet with shock. She stumbled forward through the trees, not even crying, just breathing like it hurt. Her dress was torn open at one shoulder. Her wrist had been bitten. But it was her smell that hit Jasmine first.Not blood.Not fear.Ash.More followed. Two girls she recognized from the mirror room. One of the bartenders. A young man who used to sweep the marble halls every morning before clients woke.All of them looked hollowed out. Like their insid