All Chapters of The Wolfless Luna And The Alpha King: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Rhett’s POVI’m not on my way to see Elara because I want to. I’m on my way because an Alpha cannot afford blind spots.Why the hell am I even explaining? The corridor leading to the west wing feels longer than usual, the stone beneath my boots echoing too loudly with every step. I keep my face neutral, my pace measured, but inside, my wolf prowls restlessly, uneasy, and too alert, unsatisfied even.Zane doesn’t like this. Neither do I.Elara’s room sits at the far end of the hall, tucked away beneath an arched window that lets in the late afternoon light. It’s a quieter section of the mansion, chosen deliberately after last night’s… incident.An allergy, the healers had called it. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing that explains the knot in my chest as I raise my hand and knock.“Come in,” Elara’s voice answers softly, almost too softly and then I step inside.The curtains are half-drawn, muting the light into something pale and g

Rhett’s POVNight lately has always spoken to me more clearly than the day. In daylight, people lie with their mouths. At night, they lie with their footsteps.I stand at the edge of my chamber, arms crossed, staring out over the pack grounds. Lights from the bulbs shines low along the stone paths, their flames bending with the wind. Everything looks peaceful, almost too peaceful. The kind of calm that pretends nothing is rotting beneath it.Behind me, Kaelen sleeps in his cot, I don’t need to turn to know it. I can feel him from here, steady, warm, his small presence anchoring the room. Every breath he takes reminds me why I haven’t torn this place apart already.Why I’m waiting.A soft knock comes at the door cutting me off my thoughts. Three taps, enough to make me come out of my reverie.“Enter,” I say.The door opens quietly, and the man steps inside with the posture of someone who knows how to disappear when needed. To the rest of the mans

Rhett’s POV The corridor outside the strategy wing is empty when I turn the corner. Almost too empty for what I'm used to seeing. The mansion has its own rhythm anyway, boots echoing faintly, servants moving like ghosts, guards shifting positions with practiced ease. Silence here is never accidental. And I just love it here. But as I continue in my steps, I hear Devon’s voice. And for some reason, it isn’t the tone he uses with warriors or elders or even me. This one is… careful and totally low. The kind of voice a man uses when every word matters. I stop just short of the doorway as I lean closer to the door. “I told you to be patient,” Devon says. “Now isn’t the time.” There’s a pause. I can’t hear the other voice, only the faint murmur of sound bleeding through whatever device he’s holding. Not pack tech. Not the usual channels. And this time, my jaw tightens. “I understand that,” Devon continues, irritation creeping in despite his restraint. “But rushing this will only—”

Danielle’s POV The pack village smells different from the pack mansion and the main city. Less pine. More smoke and stone and people who don’t bow when I pass. I don’t know whether that comforts me or unsettles me. The car slows to a stop just outside the market square, wheels crunching over gravel. Sunlight spills in through the open door, warm and deceptively gentle. I hesitate for half a breath before stepping down, aware of the quiet shift around us, the guards straightening, townsfolk glancing up, murmurs rippling like water disturbed by a stone. And Elara? She stays right beside me. She moves easily, as this place belongs to her as much as the pack does. Her smile is soft, her posture relaxed, her hand lifting in a small wave to a passing merchant who grins back at her. It’s convincing to the others. But not to me by the way. “You haven’t been to town since the winter festival, have you?” she asks lightly, falling into step beside me as we begin walking. “No,” I answer

Danielle’s POV A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER I don’t realize anything is wrong at first. The morning begins the way mornings usually do now, quiet, measured, careful. Light spills through the tall windows of the east wing, pale gold against the stone floors. Aaliyah helps me dress in silence, her movements gentle, her eyes flicking toward me more than usual, like she’s checking for cracks she doesn’t know how to name. “Will you be joining the others later?” she asks lightly as she fastens the clasp at my shoulder. “Maybe,” I say. It’s an honest answer. I don’t feel like being seen today. Not after the incident the other day. Not after the way Elara’s smile lingered too long, too pleased at Rhett and herself, as she left the dining hall last night as well. Aaliyah nods but doesn’t push. She never does. When I step into the corridor, the mansion feels… different. Guards straighten a fraction faster. Servants bow a fraction deeper. I catch the flicker of curiosity in their eyes before i