Alle Kapitel von Reborn Luna: Kapitel 191 – Kapitel 200

TiriannaThe small satchel sits heavy in my palm, rough-spun leather warm from my skin. It shouldn’t weigh much—there’s barely enough room inside for what remains of the Heart of Atheren—but it presses down on me like a living thing, like every protector who ever bled to keep it safe has laid their hand over mine.My Lycan stirs at the sensation. Ours. Guard it. Hide it.I know. I murmur under my breath, thumb rubbing the corded drawstring.This has always been my beginning and my end.Hope sits across from me on the low stone bench, her knee bouncing. Keith stands with his back to a gnarled oak, arms crossed, the late afternoon sun striping his sharp features. The camp around us hums—voices, laughter, clanking cookware—but here there’s a pocket of stillness, like the world knows better than to crowd this moment.“It can’t stay here,” I say, lifting my gaze to them. My voice is steadier than I feel. “Not where anyone could stumble over it or sense it.”Keith’s brows draw together. “Yo

HopeI stand at the wide window of our quarters, staring out over the settlement as twilight bleeds into night. The torches are being lit one by one, soft golden halos against the darkening forest. The air carries the scent of pine, woodsmoke, and wolf.And beneath it all… power.The Heart of Atheren is safe with Tirianna, somewhere amongst the flickering, dancing flames. My chest aches with the weight of our last interaction.She is not okay, my wolf says.But how do we help her? We know some of the bruises, but the extent of the damage that put them there. Reassure her that she is not alone. We are packed and will support her as she needs.The power of the heart beats like a lingering pulse through the air, reminding me of the power we hold in our camp.My wolf shifts under my skin. It does not belong to us.I know, I murmur.Keith looks up from the map spread across the table. His dark brow lifts slightly. “Can you let me into your thoughts?”I turn from the window. “Sure. I was j

Stevie“Argh!” Mala yells as she misses the connection point with Sky again.Sky dances back, light and quick on his feet, creating an angle before using her momentary stance to push her forward.It isn’t aggressive, it’s embarrassing. An action meant to exploit her anger and ignite it. To make her think less, react more.Get sloppy.The training field hums with heat and energy, dust rising in soft clouds beneath pounding feet. I stand with my arms folded, boots planted firm, the late morning sun warming my shoulders while my Lycan prowls just beneath my skin.They are stronger than last month, she murmurs, her voice a low, pleased rumble in my mind. But not strong enough.Beside me, Thorne stands like a carved pillar of stone, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he watches his sister circle Sky. The rest of the adult enforcers form a loose perimeter around the sparring ring, keeping the younger juveniles from crowding too close.Thorne folds his arms beside me and I raise an e

KeithThe pounding on my door drags me out of sleep so fast it feels like I’ve been dropped from a height.“Keith! Wake up!”I jerk upright, heart racing, the room still wrapped in thick darkness. For a split second I don’t know what’s happening. Then I smell it.Smoke.Not faint. Not imagined.Real.The screams and yells of anger hit me next.My Lycan stirs immediately, restless and alert.Fire. Danger to den. Intruder.“I’m up,” I call, already throwing the covers off.The wood floor is cold under my bare feet, but the air isn’t. There’s heat in it—dry and creeping. I yank on jeans and shove my feet into boots without bothering with socks.Hope is up beside me rushing to put on her clothes.“I need you to stay here, I say quickly.“No. This is my pack too. My family,” she shoots back.A fustreaded growl leaves me. I don't have time to argue, the pack needs me.“Don't leave my side.” I order.She nods and I take it as the best compromise I’m going to get right now.Another shout carr

HopeThe air in the council hall feels too tight for my lungs.I stand along the curved stone wall, arms folded, trying not to pace like my wolf wants. The long cedar table is carved with claw marks from meetings past—agreements struck, wars declared, alliances broken. Tonight, the scratches seem deeper.At the head of the table stands Keith, broad-shouldered and rigid, his dark hair pulled back from a face carved from granite. Beside him, Xavior leans against the table edge, quiet but coiled. And to Keith’s right, Tessa stands with her hands braced flat against the wood, green eyes blazing.Across from them are the chieftains.Jeb sits heavily, fingers laced over his belly, grim but thoughtful. Damon rests back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp and calculating. Riven stands like a blade, all hard angles and tension. Thorne’s knuckles are white where he grips the table. And Silas watches silently from the shadows near the hearth, saying nothing—but missing nothing.The children h