Semua Bab The Luna's Claws of Revenge: Bab 41 - Bab 50

*Lyra*The Running River castle looms ahead, slate stone against the black sky, lights glowing through the windows from the celebration inside. Nearly fifty wolves crouch with me at the edge of the treeline, silver coats shining in the night. Serena has already shifted to human form. She moves silently toward the servants’ entrance. A handful of our allies follow her, carrying satchels of dried wolfsbane leaves. The scent of the toxins drifts faintly in the air, promising the smoke that will soon render everyone inside unconscious.Serena and her team move silently back out into the courtyard to wait until the bane takes effect. Moments later, I move forward, leading the warriors along the perimeter. The first tendrils of smoke curl from the servants’ entrance, pale against the warm night air. Serena and the scouts slip back in, dragging people away. Wives, and servants, their faces pale, are pulled from the hall and into the courtyard. “Almost done,” Serena threads through the min

*Bram*I sink against the stone, muscles sore from the fight, lungs still heaving from the sprint through the forest. Outside, the night is quiet. The snarls and chaos of Blue Raven have vanished. They retreated at our last stand, pushed back by Lyra’s plan in the caves–and the stubborn unity of Song Pack. Even now, my mind drifts back to the silver she-wolf, the one guarding Kaelen with teeth bared and eyes of deep blue. She moved with a rhythm I know too well: every lunge, feint, and snap mirrored Lyra’s style so perfectly it was disorienting. I can’t tell if it was instinct or practice, but it was enough to nearly tear me apart. Every time I countered, I had to anticipate her like I would Lyra in practice, reading the subtle shifts in weight, the tilt of her head, the flare of her nostrils. I pressed every ounce of strength into each block and dodge, knowing one mistake could end me. Somehow, I held on, not by power and brute strength alone but by familiarity. The echo of Lyra’s t

*Bram*The meeting house has been empty for hours, but Lyra’s commanding presence still echoes in my mind. Her words carried so much fire, but she doesn’t see it yet, not fully. I’ll let her believe her leadership here is temporary if that’s what she needs to think in order to continue making difficult decisions for Song Pack, but I don’t think it’ll be long before they ask her to lead them as Luna. She leans against the crumbling yellow house, studying the map of the pack territories. I watch in adoration as she plans our next move.I step up next to her and touch her shoulder. “I’m going to shift and sweep the woods to make sure no enemy scent is close.”Her eyes dart to mine, sharp with worry. “Alone?”I give her a smile. “I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”She doesn’t return the smile. “Don’t take risks, Bram. Not now. Not when—” She breaks off, but I know what she means. “I won’t,” I promise. “I just want to make sure we don’t get ambushed while sixteen of us are on

*Lyra*The night presses in heavy, and colder than it should be for late fall. I pace along the edge of the clearing, boots grinding the dirt, every nerve straining for a sound or a trace of him. Bram should have been back hours ago. He was only supposed to sweep the perimeter; nothing that should have kept him gone past nightfall. But the moon has climbed to its peak, bright and full above the tree line, and still, there’s no sign of him.Each time the wind changes direction, I lift my head, desperate for his scent. Still, nothing. The silence feels wrong, dangerous, and my chest tightens until it’s hard to breathe. Maybe he got hurt in the storm… I shudder at the thought.The crack of twigs snaps my head around. Figures emerge from the tree line moving quickly across the clearing. Jorin leads, his shoulders squared, his face carved with exhaustion, and seven Song warriors trail after him. “You’re back.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean, but the fear twisting inside my belly w

*Bram*Instead of being thrown back into the dungeon, the guards shove me down a corridor lit by torches, walls lined with black banners trimmed in crimson. The air smells of incense and smoke, too rich and cloying. They stop at a set of heavy oak doors with carvings of wolves locked in combat. One pushes them open, and I’m shoved inside.The door slams shut behind me, iron bolts sliding into place, though, this definitely isn’t a cell.The chamber is enormous, more like a guest room than a prison. Velvet scarlet curtains drape over tall windows, though the view is nothing but intimidatingly thick fog hanging over sharp peaks. A fire roars in the hearth, casting warm light across polished floors and tapestries. A large bed waits against the far wall, its crimson quilts turned down as though in invitation.I scan it all, feeling uneasy. The guards are outside, and I can feel their presence. I could shift, break the lock, and try to fight all of them, but where would I run? Down sheer c