Semua Bab Moonlit Secrets: Bab 81 - Bab 90

The moon hung heavy and swollen over the border watchtower, casting its pale light across the landscape with a sinister red hue. Its face, bruised and angry, painted the night sky with an unsettling glow. A wolf’s distant howl cut through the stillness, a chilling warning and a promise wrapped in one. The night outside Aria’s home was quiet, save for the restless stirring of wind, carrying with it the scent of smoke and iron. Inside, however, the tension in the air was thick with impending danger—familiar yet unwelcome.The world outside had narrowed to fear and vigilance, and inside, hope flickered like a fragile candle, threatened by the shadows that crept through the corners. Aria had barely slept. Since the courthouse assembly, her mind had been clouded with thoughts of Rowan’s betrayal, the possibility of danger from both friend and foe. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of rest. Yet after a late night spent writing thank-you notes and updating healer records by the fire, Xan

Dawn hadn’t broken yet when the drums started. First, a low pulse from the western woods. Then, a faster answer from the border patrol. Every wolf knew that rhythm. It wasn't a message—it was a warning. War was coming.The air outside was cold. Last night’s rain clung to the earth. The red full moon still hung low, stubborn, casting the forest in a strange, uneasy glow.Xander was already at the window when the alarm reached the den. Dried blood clung to his side. His shirt hung open. His eyes were fixed on the trees. In just a few hours, he had held his daughter for the first time, whispered to Aria that the world was worth surviving—and now, he was slipping back into battle.Behind him, Aria rested. Her face was pale but calm. The baby slept curled against her, soft and warm. Mira stood nearby with a few trusted healers, but even with them close, Aria looked fragile. Her strength was there, but it flickered—a flame burned low by pain, joy, and everything in between.“Go,” she whispe

Night settled over the camp like a heavy cloak. The sky was cracked with scattered stars and torn clouds, the last hints of smoke drifting upward from dying fires. Lanterns burned low, their light flickering across mud-streaked tents and the quiet forms of wolves who had survived the day. The air still carried the scent of blood and pine, but beneath it was something else—something like the echo of hope.At the center of the camp stood the war council’s tent. Its canvas was patched with memories of older wars. Inside, the air was thick with the weight of unspoken grief, and the sharp tension of decisions yet to be made.Xander stood at the head of the table. He wore no crown, but the way he carried his wounds made him every bit an Alpha. His eyes were sharp. His hands, though tired, were steady. Beside him, Aria sat straight-backed, the marks of exhaustion etched deep in her face. But she didn’t waver.She had left the healer’s tent barely an hour ago. Her hands still smelled of herbs

Dawn came sharp and cold, slicing across the ridges like a blade. But Aria felt something warmer rising inside her—a quiet fire that had nothing to do with the sun. The ruins were behind her now. No longer a place of exile. No longer a memory, she feared.They had become a beginning.The road ahead twisted through frost-lined trees and open fields. Behind her marched a new kind of army. They were not polished or proud. They walked with wariness still in their bones. But they walked together—rogues no longer alone, no longer without a name to claim. They carried no banners. Just hope.At Aria’s side, Lysa moved quietly, no longer an enemy, no longer standing apart. The tension between them hadn’t vanished, but it had shifted—no longer brittle, just real. The bruise on Aria’s cheek still ached. She wore it without shame.The summit stone rose from the mist like a guardian. Jagged. Silent. It had seen centuries of blood and oath and betrayal. Here, Alphas had been made. Promises had been

The old temple ruins had once been cold and forgotten. Now, sunlight poured through the broken arches, spilling gold over healer’s tables and makeshift beds. Ivy crept along the stones, softened by wildflowers placed in jars beside folded cloth and salves. The great altar—once used for ancient rites—now held water bowls, baskets of herbs, and the quiet rhythm of wolves tending each other with care.Aria lay at the heart of it all.Wrapped in blankets, propped up with pillows, her skin still pale, her hands wrapped in linen, she looked like someone pulled back from the edge of something fierce. Her breath came slowly but steadily. The fire she’d called still flickered behind her eyes.Xander sat beside her, shoulders hunched. Not with defeat, but with something quieter. Something heavier. He hadn’t left her side.She drifted in and out of dreams. Of silver light. Of flames. Of hands reaching for her through the dark. And always, always, voices calling her name.When she opened her eyes