บททั้งหมดของ The Luna Lives Again: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Tanya followed me to work the next day as promised, her eyes darted around the unfamiliar streets like a hawk in a new hunting ground. It wasn't long before her brow furrowed and she leaned toward me with a confused scowl. "A Luna that works in a tavern?" she asked, almost as scandalized as she was being handed pants this morning. "Don't call me that here," I muttered, keeping my voice low. "This is a human place." "All human? Isn't that discrimination?" Tanya whispered back, visibly bristling. "No. It's just the majority population. Don't be so wolf-like here," I warned her gently. "None of that applies here." "This place is pretty chill," she said, looking around again as we stepped inside. The familiar smell of fried food, old wood, and worn fabric greeted us as we made our way through the front and into the back room. Ms. Daisy was there, hunched over a pile of receipts with her little glasses sliding down her nose. She glanced up and squinted at us. "Afternoon, Bonnie. I'v

The forest side of the territory was thick and dark, nothing like the well-lit train station side. Trees towered like silent watchers, and mist clung to the ground in patches, giving the whole place an eerie, expectant stillness. Robbie carried me in one arm up a steep hill, his other hand keeping the trees from slapping me in the face. As we reached the clearing near the edge of the territory, I caught sight of the camp. It wasn't peaceful—quiet, yes, but only the kind of quiet that comes after a disaster destroys everything. The wounded lay on cots or blankets across the muddy ground, some barely conscious. Painful groans echoed all around. Healers darted between them, some glowing faintly with exhausted magic, others applying pressure to wounds or resetting bones with practiced hands. "Alpha Robbie!" a soldier called, rising to his feet when he spotted us. "How is everyone holding up?" Robbie asked immediately, gently lowering me to my feet. "No fatalities as of yet, sir," the

I got demoted. Apparently that's a thing that could happen to an alpha. My dad says it's "for my own good." As if that's supposed to make it any less fucking humiliating for me. So what if three elders died? What exactly were they even doing for the pack in the first place? I couldn't even remember one situation where they were actually helpful to anyone. They were just old men sitting around telling people how disappointed they were all the time and judging. Like Bonnie. Why did I have to stop being Alpha and let my dad take over again? Wasn't that kind of... insulting? I stomped through the corridor of the Alpha's house, ignoring the startled glances from passing servants. This place used to fall silent when I entered. Now they didn't even lower their eyes for me. Like I was just another guy in a robe with nothing better to do than complain. "Lina!" I shouted as I reached her door. One of her maids stepped in front of me, hands raised like she could stop me or something. "Alph

A whole month had passed since I gave birth to Robbie Jr., and the gifts still hadn't stopped flooding in. I mean, there was baby stuff, healing supplies, diapers made of bamboo, herbal wraps, enchanted baby socks—I even got a crystal rattle that promised "intellectual stimulation and chakra alignment." Those were not cheap. According to Emma, Robbie Jr. was officially the most beloved baby of the year. Every single person in town had come sniffing around just to get a peek at him. And I didn't blame them. Because he was perfect. He had my face—thank the moon goddess. Tanya, of course, dubbed him "the most serious baby in the world." But he really was the calmest little thing I'd ever seen. He barely cried, he latched like a pro, and I swear he was silently judging everyone with his wise little eyes. Robbie claimed that was inherited from me too. Ms. Daisy went overboard with the presents. Raya melted into a puddle the second she held him. And Natalie? She looked him over with a

Waking up as Alpha of the Summerton Pack felt different now. Right. Not just because I'd earned it, not because people respected me more—but because she was next to me. Bonnie. My mate. The mother of my child. The woman who made my title actually mean something. She was still asleep, tucked under my arm, curled slightly toward me like a flower bent toward light. Her hair was scattered across the pillow in thick, black waves, and one strand brushed against her cheek. Carefully, I moved it aside, letting my fingers ghost over her temple. Her skin was so smooth, so warm. It reminded me of old paintings, the kind you'd see in antique museums—portraits of queens and tragic heroines. That's what she looked like. A beauty so timeless it didn't belong to the present day. And she was mine. The bite mark on her neck—my mark—was on full display. She didn't even bother hiding it. I felt giddy every time I saw it. As if the sun shone brighter just for that. Sometimes I still couldn't believe so