All Chapters of The Alpha's Runaway Luna : Chapter 61 - Chapter 67

Sabel P.O.V.I sit on the east abutment, skirts tucked up out of the honest damp, and let the nettle thread slide from my wrist into the seam where frost and boots taught the stone to part ways. Beads click in my palm, a good rosary spoiled by purpose. One, two, three; foxfire, foxglove, fox-bell. A ladder is only a story with pretensions.Under me the bridge hums a new note, as if someone taught the granite a lullaby that understands the word no. The house is singing again, with little lamps all along the bones, dotted iron around soft throats and the hush of a covenant you cannot counterfeit. Pretty and very inconvenient.“Sun-bloom,” I murmur, tasting the metal in the air. “Who taught you to wear your vows on your skin, little wolves?” A bell in my hand rings once, polite, and the hum leans like a plant toward light. I drop the bell into the river because politeness is not what we came for and the sound swims away and everything tightens as boys with nets move in the shadows and th

Kaia P.O.V.The club at 4th. Up close it smells like bleach, cologne, and poor decisions.“Pairs,” I say at the curb, chalk already dirtying my fingers. “We go in with paper, not muscles. Loud enough the girls hear it’s over, quiet enough we don’t make them targets.”“Yes, Beta,” comes back, Zara at my left, Ares on door, two precinct officers in soft armor behind, because Becky likes writ, witness and wheels. Adrian stands at my right, collar open to the evening, a grin on his handsome face.“Consent check,” he murmurs, eyes on the reflection in the black glass. “You anchor, I cut. If you say stop.”“You stop,” I finish, and the starburst behind my ear warms. My canteen knocks my hip; as vinegar sloshes like a promise.Outside, Becky’s cones corral a reporter herd into a polite crescent. Inside, the front desk clerk rearranges his face into lamp mode the second he sees us. The bouncer starts to grow a spine but sees the precinct officers and decides a spine is overrated.Ares plants,

Hazel P.O.V.The lower gate guard up the block lifts his head as if hearing his name. Three quick knocks sound on the post. Two slow. Old coin code. Becky kills the gate’s attempt to be helpful from her place with Lily with a little grunt of effort and a grin.“Foxglove favors the quick,” someone murmurs from the hedge. Josie’s voice is a ribbon you can hang anything on if you don’t mind it snapping under weight.Grady leans a fraction. “Onyx?” he asks the part of him that bares teeth only for need.Hold, Onyx says, rumble over our matebond.The fox thread Sable seeded under the third stone shivers, the line Nova saw this morning tries to be funny. My mark heats, the house hum warns me the way your body warns you about bad meat.“Girls,” I say without looking, and Zara steps into the crowd we seeded on purpose today with aunties. Children lift, chatter changes flavor and the world glances to its corners.Josie pads out of the hedge as if she’s the one with the spoon and the bead ring