Lahat ng Kabanata ng Star-Crossed Wolves: Silver Moon Rising: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

That afternoon, Desi found herself in her father's study, surrounded by the leather-bound law books and political treatises that had shaped Whitmore family philosophy for three generations. The room smelled like old paper and furniture polish, with subtle notes of the bourbon David occasionally sipped while reading late into the night."Tell me about the Riverside Accords," he said, settling behind his massive oak desk with the kind of casual authority that made even Alpha wolves listen when he spoke.Desi straightened in her chair, recognizing the shift from paternal guidance to political education. "1987. Territorial dispute between the Montague and Capulet packs that threatened to destabilize the entire Pacific Northwest region.""Casualties?""Fourteen dead, including civilians. Escalating violence that showed no signs of stopping without outside intervention.""And how was it resolved?""The Southern Alliance facilitated negotiations. Neutral territory meetings. Gradual de-escala

The morning of her departure for Moonrise Academy, Desi found herself in the family's rose garden, surrounded by the pink and white blooms her grandmother had planted fifty years ago. The Georgia air was thick with humidity and the promise of autumn, carrying scents of magnolia and honeysuckle that reminded her of childhood summers spent learning about justice and leadership from two of the supernatural world's most respected diplomats.Her parents found her there as the sun climbed toward its zenith, both dressed in the formal attire that marked important family conversations."Second thoughts?" David asked, settling onto the stone bench beside her."Third and fourth thoughts," Desi admitted. "What if I can't learn to be strategic without losing my passion? What if I become so focused on political maneuvering that I forget why I wanted to create change in the first place?""Then you'll have learned an important lesson about the corruption that comes with power," Patricia said, taking

 The next morning brought an injured wolf shifter stumbling onto their property, and with him, the first crack in seventeen years of carefully maintained secrets.Miranda found him collapsed beside the stream that ran behind their cottage, a young male wolf in obvious distress. His left shoulder was torn open—claw marks that looked suspiciously like they'd come from another wolf. Blood soaked his torn clothes, and his breathing was labored with pain and exhaustion.Her healing instincts took over before her caution could stop her."Easy," she murmured, kneeling beside him as silver light began to emanate from her hands. "I'm going to help you."The wolf's eyes snapped open—golden brown, wild with pain and confusion. He tried to pull away from her touch, but he was too weak to resist as her power flowed into his wounds."What—who are you?" His voice was rough, strained."Someone who can help." Miranda kept her voice calm and stea

 That evening, as Jake Morrison disappeared back into the forest with promises to keep their secrets, Miranda sat in her father's study surrounded by the truth of her heritage. Maps of pack territories covered every surface, marked with allies, enemies, and question marks representing unknowns. Books on supernatural politics lay open to chapters about assassination techniques and political coups. The peaceful cottage she'd grown up in had revealed itself as a war room in disguise."How many people want me dead?" she asked quietly.Prospero looked up from the letter he was writing—correspondence with old allies, she assumed, preparing for her entry into their dangerous world. "Specifically you? Three major Alpha families and their various political allies. Generally speaking, anyone who benefits from the current power structure and sees magical ability like yours as a threat to their control.""And how many people would protect me?""That depe

 That night, Ferdinand found Isabella in her private garden, tending to the night-blooming jasmine that reminded her of her homeland in Spain. The garden was one of the few places in the palace where conversations couldn't be overheard by his father's extensive spy network—Isabella had seen to that with careful magical wards and strategic landscaping."You've made your decision," she said without looking up from her flowers."Was it that obvious?""You have the same expression your mother used to get when she'd decided to stand up to your father, regardless of the consequences." Isabella's voice was soft with old grief and fresh worry. "That stubborn tilt of the chin, like you're preparing to face a firing squad with dignity intact."Ferdinand had only vague memories of his biological mother, who had died when he was seven. But Isabella had been sharing stories about Queen Catherine's quiet rebellions for years, painting a picture of a woman