Semua Bab A Luna And A Whore : Bab 71 - Bab 80

The path narrowed beneath the weight of old pines and darker things. Jasmine moved like shadow, her boots muffled against the moss, her coat trailing behind her like a predator’s tail. The forest was thick with mist, and somewhere ahead, the place she needed to break into throbbed with heat, stone, and wolf.She didn’t need maps. Her body knew the way.The outpost sat on the cliff’s edge, carved into the mountain like a secret only whispered between teeth. A garrison, they’d called it. A checkpoint. But Jasmine had been told what really lived inside—cells made of silver mesh and stone soaked in screams. If Sarah was anywhere, it would be behind those walls.Two guards stood at the main gate, wolf-blooded, bored, half-drunk on the hour. One leaned back against the stone arch, the other paced slow and lazy. They weren’t expecting a threat tonight.They weren’t expecting her.She didn’t slink. She sauntered. Straight down the open path, hips swaying like a question that already knew the

The fire was low, throwing shadows like slow-moving dancers against the stone walls.Jasmine sat beside Sarah’s bed, her legs folded beneath her, hair cascading over one shoulder like silk unraveled from a spool of ink. The light caught the strands—midnight with hints of crimson—and made her look like a storm just before it breaks.Sarah’s breathing had steadied. Not strong… but not slipping anymore.Her lips were no longer cracked. Her eyes moved beneath their lids like she was dreaming, remembering. Maybe both.And Jasmine… she was unraveling.Not loud. Not messy.No tears.She wept without weeping—body coiled tight, lips parted in silence, eyes shining with something that wasn’t fear or rage anymore…… but grief, aged and unspoken. The kind that had waited too long to be named.Her sister.Her shadow.The only softness she ever let herself keep.“Do you know what they did to you?” Jasmine whispered.The room didn’t answer. The wind didn’t shift. The fire didn’t crackle.Just the ste

They didn’t chain her this time.They didn’t dare.But the walls still tried to hold her. Velvet on bloodstone. Red satin meant to soothe beasts instead of contain them. But Jasmine was past containing.She stood at the center of the new room they’d placed her in—freshly cleaned, freshly dressed, fresh guards outside like paint still drying on a mausoleum.Her robe was cream now, soft as sugar and laced tight enough to draw the eye. The neckline dipped, hinting at collarbones sharp as promises. Her thighs caught the moonlight where the fabric split, and her lips were still raw from where she’d bitten them.The blood hadn’t stopped tasting sweet.A punishment, they said. A reassignment.She hadn’t been exiled.No, that would have been mercy.They’d sent her to entertain a councilman from the Southern Ridge—one of the old bastards who’d voted to keep the Claiming Rites active. One of the men who believed Omega blood belonged in a cup or under a body.His name was Rygar.He arrived witho

The chamber was drenched in moonlight.Not the silver kind. Not the soft kind. This moonlight was white-hot. Pure fire disguised as glow. It bled through the tall windows of the throne hall like judgment. Like revelation.And Jasmine stood at the center of it.Barefoot. Hair unbound. Her shift a whisper of gold lace clinging to her hips, to the hard line of her waist, to the places men had begged for and never touched.She wasn’t adorned in jewels.She was the jewel.The room was full of wolves. High-ranking. Hungry. Tense. Some had fought beside her. Others had prayed she wouldn’t survive. Now they waited, silent as beasts just before a feast, watching her with eyes rimmed in lust, fear, admiration—and something more primal.Something ancient.Roger sat off to the side. Not on the throne. That remained untouched.He watched her with a gaze that burned.But he did not move.Because this wasn’t his night.This was Jasmine’s.A low hum echoed in the chamber. A sound not quite a growl, n

The cloak burned under her soles.Not from fire. Not from magic. But from knowing—that this man, this Alpha with the blood of a thousand wolves under his belt, had just placed his legacy beneath her feet.And Jasmine stepped on it like she’d been born to.The chamber behind her was still ringing from the trial’s aftermath. The silence wasn’t reverent.It was raw.The kind of quiet that followed a kill.The kind that made you forget breath, made you look twice to be sure you weren’t about to be torn apart.Roger hadn’t moved.Not after kneeling. Not after watching her walk across the cloak he’d bled for in the old wars.He simply rose.Slow.Measured.The kind of rise that made walls remember they were stone.His gaze swept her—bare, glowing, slick with the echo of heat and command—and something in his jaw ticked like a warning.He didn’t speak.Not yet.She walked past the council. Past the women with pearl-slicked throats and the elders who had once whispered of her as nothing more t