Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 141 - Chapitre 150

DAYS LATER: The day had finally come.The wind over the forgotten farmland of the Red Moon Pack carried only smoke… rot… and the sickening sweetness of fresh death.What used to be fertile soil was now a field of carnage… a slaughterhouse under an open sky.Lucien’s warriors stood in rows, armor dented, cracked, and soaked in shades no rain would wash away. Blood had dried on their armors and streaked down their faces in stiff, dark lines. Their blades… some broken, some still clenched tight dripped thick with whatever life they had just carved out of their enemies.The ground was no longer earth.It was a muddy, clotted slime of torn flesh, blood-soaked soil, and shattered bone that squeezed horribly beneath their boots.They had left no survivors.The bodies of Red Moon warriors littered the field, some mangled, torn, and ripped open in ways no healer could piece together. Some were missing limbs entirely… Others had them hanging by threads of skin. Throats were opened wide like sec

Quickly, she grabbed her cloak, draping it over her gown, lifting the hem slightly to avoid tripping. She eased the door open and closed it behind her with a slow, careful click. Each movement was careful, measured, yet charged with her dark anticipation.Her heart thumped in her chest, each beat echoing excitement, almost reverent in its wickedness. She moved in Lyra’s direction, her steps quiet, muttering under her breath. “Ah… Lyra,” she whispered, teeth pressing into her lower lip, her voice soft but edged with malice. “You really think you can get away with this?”Then her tone dropped, a venomous hiss curling through the night air. “The guards will catch you… and oh, how I will savor watching you toss and turn, begging, trembling under the weight of your punishment.”But as she rounded the corner, her breath hitched. Her eyes flew wide, and the soft grin on her lips curled into something darker… hungrier.Not just Lyra… A whole line of people… men and women, each carrying bags,

Mira pushed open her door with a lazy flick, irritation rolling off her in sharp, invisible waves.“Pathetic peasants,” she muttered, the words tasting bitter and beneath her. “Always finding new ways to be useless.”But amusement flickered behind her eyes.Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.“At the very least,” she murmured, voice dipping into something amused and sinister, “they’ve given me something fun to play with tonight.”She swept her fingers through her hair, letting out a low exhale as her annoyance sharpened into anticipation.“This pack has been dreadfully boring lately,” she said with a low laugh.“Finally… something exciting.”She had already crossed the room toward her wardrobe. Pulling the doors open, she took out a dress… something quick, something decent enough to deal with the nonsense Tessa had thrown at her feet.But then… a thought sliced through her mind.She froze mid-motion. The dress slipped in her hands, dangling uselessly between her fingers as her

The warriors stiffened… every muscle tightening, every breath locking in their chests. Their spines straightened in perfect unison, heads lowering in a mixture of fear, devotion, and the unmistakable thrill of violence that came with serving her.Then… they moved. Not a word nor a warning. Just a sudden, explosive burst of motion.Boots slammed against the earth as they launched forward, and mid-stride their bodies twisted… bones snapping, reshaping, reforming with brutal efficiency. Limbs elongated, claws tore free. Their clothes shredded under the force of the shift. Fur erupted along their spines.A chorus of guttural growls rumbled through the trees as each warrior completed the transformation, landing on four massive paws that dug into the soil with predatory hunger.The forest shuddered around them.Their wolves, huge, battle-trained, and vicious, lifted their heads as one. Mira’s command still echoed in their bones.And then… with a single collective snarl,they bolted into the

The clearing was drenched in blood, the grass matted, slick with carnage. Wolves lay twisted and broken, their bodies sprawled at impossible angles, teeth bared in silent screams.Yet Anana’s chest heaved with unnervingly calm, her breathing untouched by the carnage around her. The taste of iron clung to her lips, but her eyes were cold, calculating and unshaken.Every strike had been precise. Every motion, a lesson in death. Every kill executed with cold, unflinching efficiency as if the wolves themselves had volunteered for slaughter.Even in human form, Anana was a storm of violence, a hurricane in flesh and steel. Any wolf foolish enough to face her would not live to regret it.Her eyes swept the clearing. Only five remained, their massive forms trembling, muscles coiled, tails low. Their breaths came in ragged, anxious pants. They wanted to run, but Mira’s command anchored them in place and forced them forward toward inevitable doom.“You should have stayed home,” Anana whispered