Lahat ng Kabanata ng Reborn Luna: Kabanata 161 - Kabanata 170

HopeEverything feels like a whirlwind.Trucks arrive to take groups back to our territory, some choosing to take the trucks and others shift back into their beast forms and run back into the woods.The battle blurs into the ride, the ride blurs into the road back to the Lotus pack, and the world outside the truck window becomes nothing more than streaks of green and gray. Time stretches and snaps as a thread pulled too tight. If I try to pinpoint when the fear finally loosens its grip on my chest, I can’t. I only know that somewhere between the last echo of claws on stone and the familiar scent of pine and lotus blossom in the air, I start breathing again.The heart beats against my thigh, and I do my best to ignore the power humming. When we reach our grounds, I’ll find Tirianna and Xavior to give it to them.It's best if fewer people know.Keith never lets go of me.He sits beside me in the back seat, his arm locked around my shoulders, his hand splayed over my hip as if anchoring

RhysI sit back in the chair, arms crossed over my chest, and watch the room like it’s a battlefield instead of a bedroom. Old habits die hard. Riven sits across from me, mirroring my posture without even realizing it, the way twins do even after fifteen years of separation. Around us, the other Lycan chieftains scatter in loose clusters, pretending to look dignified while absolutely behaving like a gaggle of females waiting for the juiciest piece of gossip.My inner Lycan snorts. Too many eyes. We should find our female.Some things never change.My brother has always been a pain in my ass. He was born ten minutes before me and has never let me forget it—not when we were cubs wrestling in the dirt, not when we were young warriors vying for rank, and not now that he wears the mantle of Chieftain like it was forged for him alone.The heir and the spare.The spy.The killer.The captain.I have worn so many titles, shed so many lives in not sure what lies in the center.Yet somehow, wit

TiriannaI walk toward the lunch hall with my head high and my shoulders back, even though every instinct in me wants to curl inward and disappear.People stare.Some do it openly, curiosity and calculation etched across their faces. Others pretend not to look, which is almost worse. They don’t know what to make of me—former queen, prisoner, survivor, liability. I can feel their thoughts like a low hum against my skin.Let them stare, my Lycan murmurs, voice low but steady. We are still standing.Xavior is at my side, as he has been since the moment we arrived. Too close. Too protective. I love him for it, but the hovering is starting to itch.“You can go,” I tell him quietly.His jaw tightens. “Tiri—”“I’m fine,” I say, keeping my voice firm. “Go eat. Or… loom somewhere else. I’m sure you have more important things to do. Kasy is probably waiting for your call, and you have to figure out how to get the entire pack here.”That earns a reluctant huff of laughter. “She’ll be relieved to

StevieI lean back against the cool stone of the overlook and tip my face up toward the sky, letting the thin autumn sun warm my cheeks. The clouds move slow today, stretched and lazy, like they don’t know a war is coming. Like the world isn’t holding its breath.Below me, in the training yard, Sky stands awkwardly among a cluster of kids his age. Teenagers, technically. Almost-grown wolves with too-long limbs and too-loud voices. He doesn’t quite fit the circle they’ve formed. He never does.They're enamored with him though, in awe of how he stood with the warriors to fight.Curious.He keeps his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders tight, gaze darting like he’s waiting for someone to laugh at him. One of the boys tries to bump his shoulder, not hard enough to be cruel, friendly, social but Sky steps to the side anyway.My chest tightens.Shifters thrive on social touch. It settles us, grounds us to have strong community ties and every time he steps away it shows me

KeithI enter the dining hall with Hope’s hand tucked into mine, her fingers warm, a little damp. The doors swing open and the sound hits us like a living thing—laughter, clinking plates, the low rumble of dozens of conversations layered over one another. The scent nearly knocks me sideways. Roasted meat, fresh bread, spiced roots, ale, wine, the mingled musk of lycans and werewolves packed shoulder to shoulder. My Lycan lifts his head inside me, alert and pleased.Strong pack. Full bellies. Safe.The hall is massive, long tables stretching from the doors to the raised platform at the far end. Everywhere I look, people are eating, leaning close, throwing their heads back in laughter. Fur and skin alike. Old grudges buried under food and drink and the mutual purpose. Toward the front, the energy thickens, heavier with authority and power. That’s where the chieftains sit.Hope squeezes my hand, and I angle my body just enough to shield her as we move forward.Mine, The wolf growls is th