บททั้งหมดของ CHASING MONSTERS: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

(Ronans Pov)The King summoned me to his private chamber, and I already knew why. His gaze was distant, his shoulders tight, and he wore the air of a man trying to walk away from something he didn’t want to face.“I will be leaving the castle,” he said without preamble. “Some of the outer packs have grown restless after the failed attack on the Hunters. They need to see their King—strong, present. I will travel to them, you will be in charge here in my absence.”I tilted my head, studying him. “And Sophie?”His jaw clenched at her name, though he hid it well. “You’ll see to her. When her shift comes, take her to the ancient forest. The wood is older than memory, it will reveal if she truly belongs to us.”So that was it. He was running. Leaving before the truth of Sophie’s shift, and what it might mean, could confront him.I kept my tone even. “It may be wise to present a united front. Take Veronica with you.”His eyes flickered with warmth at the mention of her name. Fool. He saw only

(Ronans Pov)The King was gone. Veronica and that snake Arnold had gone with him, trailing silks and whispers in their wake. Good riddance, though I didn’t trust the quiet that followed.The keep felt different without his presence—lighter, but more fragile, too. The weight of leadership was mine now, at least until he returned. And tonight of all nights, it fell to me to watch over something far more dangerous than politics.Sophie’s first shift.Her uncle William arrived before sunset, his presence filling the courtyard like a steady flame. With him came a group of wolves, his wife, his children, and several from his pack who had known Sophie’s parents. I studied their faces as they looked at her, not with suspicion, but with something rarer. Affection. Recognition.“This night,” William said, his voice low but carrying, “she is no longer only a hunter’s child. She is of my pack. Blood of my brother. Blood of us. We claim her”Sophie’s eyes softened, though she said nothing. Her body

The fire was burning low, embers glowing like scattered stars in the grass. The wolves that had gathered were still watching me with awe, whispering in low tones about the white wolf with a coat like starlight. I felt their stares as if they were a second cloak over my skin.William, my uncle, came forward. His broad shoulders caught the light, his expression grave yet softened by pride.“I already knew,” he said, voice low but carrying in the circle. “From the moment I saw you in the King’s dungeons, I knew whose blood you carried. My brother Kane’s. Tonight only confirms it.”My chest ached at the name. Kane. My father. The black wolf who had been my childhood “horse.” The man who had spun me in the air, whose laughter I had buried under Lucian’s lies.Williams gaze was steady, weighing me, judging me, and yet… offering something.“With a wolf like yours,” he continued, “with a bloodline so rare, so strong, you have a rightful place. At the head of our pack. I never wanted the role.

The night air carried a stillness that felt sacred, touched with the crisp bite of autumn. My senses, newly sharpened, picked up every detail, the soft tread of paws and boots through the forest, the whisper of leaves, the scent of damp earth laced with pine. William .walked ahead of me, his stride steady, his presence commanding, yet gentle. His wife and children moved with the rest of the pack, forming a ring of protection around me.We were heading to my father’s grave.I hadn’t known what to expect. A mound of earth, perhaps, hidden away in the woods. But when the pack stopped, I found myself standing before a stone marker, carved with care, encircled by wildflowers left by loving hands. Kane. My father’s name.I swallowed hard, my throat aching. My wolf stirred inside me, restless, tugging me forward. Slowly, I knelt, pressing my palm against the stone. It was cool beneath my skin, but I could almost feel warmth radiating back, an echo, a memory of the man I had never truly known.

(Veronicas Pov)Veronica had been humiliated in front of wolves who should have been licking the dirt at her heels. Forced to apologize, forced to bend,like a Luna with no crown. It gnawed at her. Pride, once cracked, never healed clean.She smashed a goblet against the wall of her chamber, wine streaking like spilled blood across the silks. Her ladies scurried, terrified, but Veronica waved them away with a flick of her jeweled fingers. She didn’t want their nervous stares. She wanted fire.The knock came soft, deliberate. Arnold. Always Arnold.“Enter,” she purred, voice honey masking poison.He slipped inside like a shadow. His eyes were dark pools, always too full of her. He bowed slightly, deferential but trembling with hunger.“They disrespected you,” he said at once, his voice thick, steady. “The King should never have demanded such a display.”Her smile curved, slow and dangerous. “Ah, Arnold. Always so quick to defend me.”He stepped closer, unable to help himself. She let him