All Chapters of BOUNDED BY MOONLIGHT : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The dawn was thin and fragile, a pale silver bleeding across the horizon. The first light should have felt like relief after the endless night, but to Elora it brought no comfort. The air in Raven Ridge carried a weight unlike anything she had ever felt before. The mist clung to the forest like a second skin, the trees watching silently as though they knew what was coming.Every step toward the pack’s stronghold was like walking deeper into a snare she could not escape. Her boots sank into the damp earth, each crunch of leaves underfoot echoing too loud in her ears. She wanted to slow, to breathe, to find any excuse to stop—but Joel’s presence at her side anchored her forward.He moved like a warrior who had bled too much and slept too little. His wounds hadn’t healed, his shirt still torn from their last battle, but he carried himself with a strength that made her chest ache. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes a constant sweep of their surroundings.

The council chamber of Raven Ridge was colder than Elora remembered—though she had never stood here as a prisoner before.The tall arched windows bled only fractured light, storm clouds pressing heavy against the sky outside. Torches sputtered in their sconces, flames bending sideways as if reluctant to burn. Every carved rune etched into the walls glared down at her like unblinking eyes—oaths of a thousand years twisting into silent accusations.She stood at the center of it all, unbound yet trapped, tethered not by rope or chain but by something heavier: eyes. Dozens of them.The council elders sat in their semicircle of judgment, robed in silver and black, faces lined with age and severity. Behind them, warriors, scribes, and wolves of every rank crowded into the gallery. The air was heavy with expectation, thick enough to choke her.Elora’s pulse roared in her ears. Joel was somewhere behind her—she could feel him, steady and groundi

Elora sat by the narrow window, her gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond, though she wasn’t truly seeing it. The night was vast, endless, its shadows whispering like old ghosts. Inside the chamber, the fire burned low, its orange glow flickering against the damp stone, but even that light seemed fragile—like it, too, might vanish under the weight of memory.Her chest ached with the heaviness of silence. It pressed against her ribs until finally, words broke out in a trembling whisper she hadn’t meant to speak aloud.“Why wasn’t I enough?”Joel, who had been crouched by the hearth, paused in feeding the fire. The question caught him mid-motion, freezing his hand above the kindling. Slowly, he turned, his blue eyes searching hers with quiet intensity.“What do you mean?” His voice was soft, careful, as if he feared startling something fragile in her. He set the firewood aside and rose, closing the space between them by inches.Elo

The council hall smelled of smoke and damp stone, the kind of place where secrets clung like mildew and never truly rotted away. The ceiling arched high above them, carved with wolves locked in an eternal hunt, their eyes hollow shadows under the torchlight. Every flicker of flame stretched their snarling jaws across the walls, as if the past itself leaned closer to listen.Elora stood in the center of it all, her brother’s hand brushing hers in a small, unspoken tether. Liam’s palm was calloused, rough with years of surviving alone, and yet it grounded her more than any chain of runes or ritual could. Joel stood across the room, just beyond the semicircle of council elders. His posture was soldier-straight, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed the storm clawing inside him.The silence was suffocating until Elder Thalos placed a parchment on the table, its edges brittle with age, the wax seal cracked but still stamped with the crest of the Blackthorn bloodline

The silence of the cabin pressed in, too thick to breathe. Elora lay wrapped in her blanket, her body still but her mind thrashing like a storm-tossed sea. Liam’s accusations echoed louder in her ears than the crackle of the fire, louder than the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breathing.Cast out. Betrayed. Broken.Her brother’s voice gnawed at her ribs like claws, while Joel’s quiet, guilty confession lingered like a knife lodged in her chest. She wanted to hate Joel. Wanted to spit the words Liam had hurled—that he was nothing but his father’s weapon, the coward who had branded her brother an outcast.But when she looked at Joel now, she didn’t see Alaric’s cruelty. She saw something worse: regret. Raw and gnawing, the kind that never healed.“Elora.”Her body jolted at the sound of her name. Joel hadn’t moved, but his eyes glowed faintly in the firelight, fixed on her with unnerving clarity. They were the eyes of a wolf that