All Chapters of Loner for Luna: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Prue“She was flying down, not running,” Andrew stated, still breathless, his eyes expressing mix of awe and disbelief.I smirked, letting a hint of triumph curl at the corner of my lips. The thrill of outpacing someone like Andrew could never get old.“What?” John asked, disbelief lacing his voice.“My specialty,” I replied smoothly, giving John a teasing wink that carried both mischief and pride.The dares continued, ricocheting from were to were like sparks in the night, each one more unpredictable than the last. At one point, I found myself at a table, elbow-to-elbow with Greg for an arm wrestling challenge. The air was thick with tension, a mix of anticipation and the subtle undercurrent of testosterone. Let's just say – I lasted. That was enough for me because, as everyone knows, he's a ranked member, intensely trained, and built like a powerhouse. Beating him wasn’t just about strength; it was about holding my own against the impossible.Another dare found me facing John, this

PrueThe pack house smelled like wet fur, engine oil, and the fading smoke from the yesterday's fire pit outside when I walked towards the truck. My mood was already sour enough to curdle milk, and the moment I saw Andrew walking towards the car and John at the back my irritation sharpened like a knife dragged over stone. My two favourite people in this pack – mind the sarcasm.No way in hell I was sitting next to Alpha boy. John had taken the back seat, legs stretched like he owned the damn vehicle.“Move out, little legs,” I barked at him.John frowned but started to climb out. “I don’t have little legs.”I slid into the seat just as he moved towards front, Andrew pulling the driver’s door open in the same moment. Three doors slammed shut almost simultaneously, the sound echoing through the quiet driveway.Greg snorted from the seat next to me. Andrew glanced at John and then me with his long lashes and beautiful eyes. Beautiful? Totally ugly. I buckled my belt with sharp, irritated

PrueThe laundry basket was a wicker cage of damp towels and heavy linens that seemed to grow heavier with every step I took, pulling at my shoulders like the oppressive, silent judgments of the pack members who watched me move through the halls in a place I clearly did not belong.Watch and judge all you want – I'm not here of my own free will. Among the thoughts racing through my brain – I usually prefer to keep a tight leash on my inner monologue, but these were moving too fast to track – was the memory of John kissing Nico. Again. In the hall. At first, I couldn't believe my own nose, even though it was the one that tipped me off that the Beta was nearby. My mind simply failed to comprehend the rationale behind what I was seeing. It still doesn't. Life rarely surprises me, but I have to tell you: this was one hell of a surprise.Was he actually gay, but so deep in the closet that even a moth was more 'out' than him? Was it an accident? Was it another dare I’d somehow missed? But if

AndrewI was leaning against the doorframe, hands buried deep in my pockets, acting like a shark just waiting for the current to shift. The moment I heard her door handle click, I pushed off the wall with the casual grace. I was perfectly in stride beside her when she emerged, turning to head for the stairs. She shot me a look so cold it could have flash-frozen the hallway, but I didn't blink."Feeling better this morning, Rue?" I asked, my voice bright enough to be annoying, and hooked an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder.She looked down at my hand like it was a contagious rash. The next thing I knew, it was a blur of wolfen speed: she caught my pointing finger, twisted it until the joint screamed in protest, and twirled out of my reach with the agility of a gymnast. Despite the sharp fire of pain radiating up my arm, I couldn't help but notice how her skirt flared as she spun, how impossibly graceful she looked, and I couldn't stop my brain from wondering if she was as good at

PrueSitting in the library was strangely satisfying. The silence and steady, paper-scented environment helped me focus a hundred times better than I ever could at home. It was just me, a mountain of books, and my history research paper – which I was writing entirely on my own, because I refuse to be one of those people who stitches together a Frankenstein's monster of plagiarized internet paragraphs or begs an AI to do the thinking for them. No, I actually had pride and integrity. If I was going to earn a grade, it was going to be an evaluation of what I did, not some fakety-fake digital fabrication. Even if I didn't pull off an A+, at least I’d gain some actual brain cells and skills that might come in handy when tests rolled around or when I needed to survive the real world. Yes, I know, I have very mature thinking for a teen, I thought to myself, though I figured if I didn't, all those hours spent listening to deep-dive podcasts would have been a total waste of my time.I glanced u