All Chapters of Bound to the moon: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

 The dream left me gasping for air. I clawed myself awake as if I’d been buried alive, my sheetstangled, my skin clammy with sweat. My mother’s voice still rang in my ears, andworse—Celeste’s laughter.I saw her in my dream, cloaked in red, her presence burning like fire across my soul. But whathaunted me most wasn’t Celeste. It was Celina, standing beside her, not chained or forced, butsmiling.Before I could process it, before I could steady my pounding heart, a cry shattered the night.I froze. That wasn’t a baby’s cry. It was sharp, distorted, split in two like two voices tearing outof one throat.My wolf bristled. My body moved before my mind caught up. I tore through the corridors, barefeet slapping stone, until I burst into the infirmary.The sight slammed into me.

The scent of smoke still clung to me as I walked into the infirmary. My body trembled, not fromweakness, but from the echoes of fire still burning beneath my skin. I had burned Draven intoash. I had torn through his cursed pack. I had saved them all, and yet, my chest ached like awound.Kael lay on one of the healer’s beds, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages, his face pale but hiseyes fierce even in pain. Thorne was on the bed beside him, his arm bound tight where claws hadraked through muscle. He was silent, staring at the ceiling, jaw locked as if to keep from crying out.I rushed between them, my hands trembling as I touched their arms, their faces, anything to feelthat they were alive.“Don’t move,” the healer warned, but my heart didn’t care for her words.Kael’s hand found mine, his grip tight despite the pain. “Rory…” His voice was rough, crackedwith exhaustion. “You saved us.”I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. I couldn’t—”“You did,” he cut me off, his gaze

The smell of firewood and roasted roots drifted through the morning corridors before I evenstepped into the kitchen. At first, I thought the kitchen maids had started earlier than usual. Butwhen I reached the threshold, my steps faltered.Elder Darius — the Alpha King, the man who carried an entire empire of wolves on hisshoulders — stood with his sleeves rolled up, stirring a steaming pot with practiced ease. Hisbroad back blocked the firelight, and beside him, trays of herbs and chopped vegetables layneatly arranged as though he had done this a thousand times.The kitchen was silent. Not the usual clatter of pans or chatter of maids. Only stunned eyesstaring at him as if he had grown two heads.One of the youngest maids nearly dropped a jug of water. Another whispered too loudly, “Is he…cooking?”“Yes, for Lady Lyra,” another murmured, wide-eyed.The air vibrated with disbelief. Darius turned, his expression carved in granite. His voice wassharp, low, commanding. “None of yo

 The air in the pack felt different these days, charged with something I couldn’t name. When Iwalked through the courtyard, I could feel eyes following me — not with the same cuttingsuspicion or bitter jealousy I used to endure, but with something heavier, harder. Respect.Curiosity. Fear.It wrapped around me like a second skin.Two maidens carrying baskets of herbs stopped talking the moment I passed. Their heads benttogether after I moved past, their voices lowering into whispers. I caught only fragments:“…Luna now, surely…” and “…but Celina—”Always Celina. Her shadow stretched everywhere, even now, even after I’d finally beguncarving a place for myself. The whispers had softened, yes, but I could still feel the undercurrent.Her name clung to me like smok

 She should have ignored it, should have let the girl’s venom slide off her back, but shame burnedhotter than fire under her skin. For years, Lyra had turned her face away from truth, and now—atthe one moment she had dared to step forward beside Darius—Celina had spat her humiliationacross the entire hall.No. Not this time. Not again.She pushed through the carved oak doors of Celina’s chamber without waiting to be announced.Celina was standing by the window, her baby nestled in her arms. She turned slowly, the kind ofslow that dripped with arrogance. Her lips curved into a smile, one too sharp to be maternal, toocruel to belong to a woman who held an infant.“Well, well,” Celina purred, rocking the child lazily. “The abandoned queen comes running tome. What is it this time, Lyra? To