All Chapters of Torn Between Two Moons: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

(Alessia’s POV) Night fell quickly. Storm clouds hung low over the city, resembling smoke from a fire that refuses to die—just lingering, suffocating the air with old memories. I stood by the window of the safehouse, gazing down at the docks. The waves crashed against the metal hulls, dark and restless, mirroring the turmoil in my mind. Somewhere behind me, Nikolai was issuing quiet orders to his men. His voice was calm—too calm for what lay ahead. Each word was deliberate and precise, as if he’d practiced this moment countless times. Maybe he had. Perhaps this was all he knew—war, strategy, survival. And me? I was the wild card. I turned from the window, watching him as he loaded a pistol. The gun felt like an extension of him—cold, exact, merciless. Yet those same hands that wielded it had touched me like I was something sacred just the night before. “How many men are we taking?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Five,” he replied without looking up. “Just enough to move quietl

(Alessia’s POV) As soon as Nikolai walked out, the silence consumed the room. It’s odd how silence can often feel louder than chaos—his absence created an ache that was sharper than the wound on my arm. I looked at the gun in my hands—it felt heavier than I remembered. His scent still clung to it—smoke, leather, and something darker that always made my heart betray me. He told me to wait. He told me to stay safe. But how can you feel safe when the one person who makes you feel alive keeps throwing himself into hell? I paced the room, the old floorboards creaking under my boots. Every sound outside—the crunch of gravel, the soft whisper of wind—made my heart race. I tried to focus, to take a deep breath, but all I could hear were his words. "Make sure the devil remembers my name." He said it like a promise. Or maybe a goodbye. I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. "No. Not this time." Memories of fire and blood flashed through my mind—how he’d jumpe

Akira’s POV The storm hadn’t let up since Kaidën got worse. It howled through the palace, rattling the old windows and echoing whispers I didn’t want to hear. Every lightning flash lit the room for a split second, and every thunderclap felt like a ticking clock. I was sitting by his bed, my hands clasped so tightly that my knuckles were on fire. Kaidën’s breaths were shallow—too shallow. The healers had left long ago, their faces drawn, hope seemingly gone. Only Lyrein remained, standing like a statue at the door, visibly consumed by his grief. Hours had passed without a word from either of us. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and old magic, almost suffocating. I dipped a cloth into a bowl of cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it to Kaidën’s forehead. His skin was burning under my touch, feverish and fragile. “Don’t you dare leave,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Not like this. Not when everything’s still unfinished.” He didn’t respond. A heavy ache settled in my ch

(Akira’s POV) All I could sense was darkness, as if it had wrapped around me for an eternity. No pain. No sound. Just this endless, weightless void where time seemed irrelevant. Then came the warmth. It began as a flicker, similar to a candle's flame struggling against the wind. That warmth pulsed softly through my chest, gradually spreading to my fingertips. With it, I heard the gentle sound of rain — soft, steady, and full of life. My body felt heavy, like I was trudging through wet sand, but I pushed myself to open my eyes. The first thing that came into view was him. Nikolai. His head was resting on the edge of my bed, eyes closed, his hand still clasped around mine. His skin looked pale and his breathing was shallow, but he was there. Alive. A shiver ran through me as fragmented memories rushed back — Kaidën gasping for air, the curse wrapping around him like swirling black smoke, Nikolai slicing open his hand, his blood mixing with mine, and the unbearable fire that fol

(Akira’s POV) I slowly felt the world come back to me — like bits of a dream that just wouldn’t fade away. The first sensation was warmth. Not the soothing kind that leads to comfort, but a gentle burn beneath my skin, pulsing along with a heartbeat that felt a bit foreign. When I finally managed to open my eyes, I found the room dim, with morning light streaming softly through the half-drawn curtains. The air was tinged with a hint of herbs and metal. And there he was — sitting at my side, half-asleep, shoulders drooping, still holding my hand. Kaidën. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. He looked different while he was asleep — softer, almost more human. The sharp features of the Lycan King seemed dulled by fatigue, his lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His thumb moved gently against my hand, as if he was clinging to me even in his dreams. Yet, when I shifted, a sharp pain shot through my chest — bright and piercing. I gasped. Instantly, he was alert, his blue eyes sn