All Chapters of The Moon's Chosen : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

ANTON’S POVErica did not turn around right away. She stayed where she was, facing the wall, shoulders slightly hunched, as if she were bracing herself against something invisible. For a moment, I thought she might change her mind and pull back again, retreat into silence the way she had been doing all evening.Then she spoke.“There was another time,” she said quietly. “Another incident.”The way she said it—flat, careful—made my chest tighten.I waited. I didn’t rush her. This wasn’t a story that could be forced out was also at night,” she continued. “Almost all of them were.”I shifted my weight, folding my arms loosely, giving her space. “What happened?”She sighed, long and heavy, like the breath carried years with it.“Another night,” she went on, “he woke up and realized she wasn’t beside him.”Her fingers curled tighter against her arms.“At first, he thought maybe she’d stepped outside. Or gone to the washroom. Normal things.” She paused. “But when he searched the house, she

KIRA’S POVI could feel it before I even spoke.That heavy, suffocating awareness that once the words left my mouth, there would be no pulling them back. No correcting them later without consequences. The truth sat like a living thing inside my chest, clawing and restless, but I kept it locked down, buried beneath fear and logic and the knowledge of who Erica was.Erica would never believe me. Never She wouldn’t even try.So I did the only thing that felt remotely safe.“I… I don’t really know what happened,” I said at last, my voice coming out low and unsure, as though the confusion itself were the only honest thing I could offer. “I just remember feeling dizzy. Really dizzy.” I hesitated, then added, “And then everything went black. I think I must have passed out.”The instant the words left my mouth, regret curled tight in my chest. Not because they sounded unconvincing—they didn’t. But because I could tell right away that they didn’t quite fit. They landed wrong, like a story

THIRD POV Kira’s voice dropped to barely more than a breath as she finished speaking.“…that’s everything,” she whispered.Anton didn’t respond immediately. He stayed still, crouched slightly toward her, his face shadowed by the low light in the living room. The weight of what she had just told him hung thickly in the air, heavy enough that it felt wrong to breathe too loudly.For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.Then Anton leaned closer, lowering his voice even further. “You’re sure,” he murmured. “You’re absolutely sure it was the same one?”Kira nodded, her fingers twisting tightly into the blanket on her lap. “I’m sure. The shape. The way it stood. The way it moved like gravity didn’t quite apply to it. I’d recognize it anywhere.”Anton’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to say more—Footsteps.Both of them stiffened at the exact same time.The soft sound of movement came from the direction of the kitchen. Anton’s head snapped up first, his senses catching it immediate

KIRA'S POVAnton’s voice was the first thing that truly shattered the room. Not loud at first, not screaming, but raised enough that it cut clean through Erica’s nonstop rant like a blade slicing through cloth. The sudden change in tone made my shoulders stiffen instinctively, and my heart jumped so hard against my ribs that I felt lightheaded.“No,” Anton said sharply, his voice tight with something he had clearly been holding back for far too long. “No, I am not going to stand here and let you keep talking like that.”The room fell into a strange, vibrating silence.Erica froze mid-motion, her mouth still slightly open as if the next accusation had already been formed and was only waiting for permission to come out. Slowly, she turned to face him, disbelief flashing across her face before it hardened into something uglier.“Oh,” she said, letting out a short, humorless laugh. “So now you can talk?”I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my clothes as I sat between

KIRA’S POVFor a long moment, no one spoke.The room felt heavier than it had a few seconds ago, like the air itself had thickened after my outburst. Erica and Anton stood there, still facing each other, their anger hanging between them like a live wire neither of them dared to touch anymore.Then, slowly, they sat down.Not because they wanted to—but because I told them to.Erica lowered herself onto the edge of the chair first, her movements stiff, her jaw tight. Anton followed, sitting across from her, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed somewhere past her shoulder. The tension between them did not disappear. If anything, it settled deeper, quieter, simmering under the surface.They looked at each other.Once.Twice.Then they both looked away.Neither of them spoke.Good.I closed my eyes briefly and drew in a slow breath, feeling the dull ache in my head pulse in response. Even breathing hurt, but I pushed through it. I had already stopped them once. I would not let this spira