Todos los capítulos de Reborn Luna: Capítulo 211 - Capítulo 220

ElliotThe air inside the hidden lab tastes like metal and fear.I grind the last of the compound into solution, watching the chemical swirl in the glass cylinder. It glows faintly—iridescent silver against a storm-dark base. Fitting.“Steady,” my Lycan murmurs inside me. His voice is low, controlled, but I feel the tension vibrating beneath it. “If you miscalculate the ratio, the backlash will tear the barrier—and everyone near it—apart.”“I know,” I mutter under my breath, adjusting the heat.The barrier outside pulses through the earth like a second heartbeat. Elira’s magic. Old. Corrupted. Alive.A crack. That’s all we need.Once she’s vulnerable again, her wolves will react exactly how we expect—rage, panic, a full offensive. That’s the opening. Keith will take her out. Clean. Decisive. And then we lock down the perimeter and make sure not a single SilverFang bastard escapes.My fingers steady as I inject the final reagent.The communicator on my belt crackles.“Tao here. North b

EliraThe sound splits the night like shattering glass, a violent, splintering crack that reverberates through the mountains. Silver light fractures across the invisible dome above our territory, spiderwebbing in jagged lines before imploding inward.Pain detonates inside my chest.It feels like someone has driven a blade straight through my sternum and twisted.I collapse to my hind legs in the magic-dusted clearing, claws digging into frozen earth as the backlash tears through me. The barrier was never just a spell. It was alive. It was tethered to my pulse.And now it is being ripped apart.But none of that compares to the feeling of being duped.Tirianna had passed on the heart.And now Keith had the upper hand.She whipped her head toward the rush of air and watched as Keith moved at breakneck speed toward her.“Elira!” one of her guards called as her wolves moved into motion.Voices shout around me, but they sound distant, muffled under the roaring in my ears.Inside my head, my

HopeI close my eyes.The massive wolf above me rears back, jaws opening wide, hot breath washing over my face.This is it.My wolf goes still inside me—not in surrender, but in defiance.My energy is low, pain rising but I'm not ready to give in.I feel the tremor of his growl through the stone beneath my back. Blood pools warm beneath my shoulder. My vision swims, but I force my eyes open one last time.If I die, I’ll die looking at my enemy.His teeth descend—And the night explodes.A sharp, ringing sound slices through the air, like crystal shattering. Light—bright, silver-blue light—slashes across the chamber.The wolf above me jerks violently.An arrow made of pure luminescence pierces through his shoulder and pins him to the wall.He howls.Not in triumph.In agony.I blink, dazed.Shapes pour through the tunnel entrance behind the rogues—tall, armored figures moving with impossible grace. Their blades glow with the same ethereal light as the arrow.Elves.For a heartbeat, I t

KeithThe council hall is too small for this many predators.Even in human skin, we radiate teeth.I sit at the head of the long oak table, hands braced against the wood, and feel the weight of every gaze in the room. Riven stands near the far window, shoulders rigid, as if he could outrun what we’re about to decide. Jeb leans back with forced ease, boots crossed. Silas and Thorne flank the door like carved sentinels. Damon’s fingers drum once against the table before stilling. Xavior watches everyone and no one, calculating.At my right sits Tessa, chin lifted. Beside her, Elena and her mate, all quiet grace and ancient power. And at my left—Hope.My mate’s knee brushes mine beneath the table. The contact is small. It steadies me more than any show of dominance ever could.He should have died on the battlefield, my Lycan growls inside me, a low vibration beneath my ribs. We are wasting breath.“We’re not executing him in the dark,” I murmur inwardly. “We’re not becoming what he was.

KeithThe first time I hold my son, the world narrows to the weight of him in my arms.Everything else—wars, trials, blood, crowns—falls away like ash in the wind.He is small. Red-faced. Furious at the cold air he’s been forced into. His cry is sharp and indignant, and it slices straight through my chest.Hope laughs weakly from the bed, sweat-damp hair clinging to her temples. “He sounds like you.”My wolf lifts his head inside me, stunned into reverent silence.He is ours.“Yes,” I breathe, voice rough. “He is.”The healer finishes wrapping him and places him back into my hands properly this time. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I finally let it go.He’s warm.Fragile.And stronger than anything I have ever known.Hope reaches for him, and I kneel beside her so she doesn’t have to strain. The moment our son is laid against her chest, he quiets. Instantly.My wolf’s chest rumbles low with pride. He knows his mother.Hope presses her lips to the top of his head. Tears