All Chapters of Her Alpha’s Undoing: The Luna’s Wrath: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

First Steps to LoveLuna's POVI woke up beside Kael for the first time, dawn light filtering through his tent at the pack celebration grounds, and my first instinct was to run. Every relationship I had ever had started like this before they turned into something that tried to break me. But Kael's arm was draped loosely across my waist, not possessive, just present, and I forced myself to breathe."You're panicking," he murmured, eyes still closed. "I can feel your heartbeat from here.""I'm fine.""Liar." He opened his eyes, storm-gray and clear despite last night's drinking. "Do you want me to leave? I could give you space."That's what made him different. He asked he didn't assume, didn't demand, didn't make my fear about his ego. It terrified me more than any controlling alpha ever had."I don't know what I want," I admitted."That's okay." Kael sat up slowly, giving me room to breathe. "We don't have to figure everything out this morning. Last night was beautiful, Luna. But it do

Deathbed Reconciliation Nadia's POV Vincent looked smaller than I remembered, his powerful frame withered against white hospital sheets that smelled of antiseptic and death. His breathing came shallow and labored, each exhale a battle he was slowly losing. The rare illness attacking his system had no cure—even our strongest healers stood helpless, watching an Alpha fade like morning mist. "He's been asking for both of you," Marcus said quietly, standing guard at the door like he could protect his father from the inevitable. His eyes were red-rimmed, his usual confidence cracked wide open. "He doesn't have much time." Luna stood frozen in the doorway, her hand crushing mine. I felt her terror and rage wrestling. Part of her wanted to leave, to let Vincent die without the reconciliation he didn't deserve. Part of her needed answers before it was too late. "We're here," I said

Different Paths to Family Luna's POV The whispers started three weeks after Nadia's pregnancy announcement. Soft at first, like wind through dead leaves, but growing louder every day. Elder wolves cornered me at pack gatherings, their smiles tight and expectant. "When will you and Kael give us good news?" they would ask, eyes dropping to my flat stomach like it was a personal failure. I smiled through gritted teeth and changed the subject. But the questions multiplied, became bolder, turned from curiosity to judgment. "A mated pair should provide heirs," Elder Margaret said loudly at last week's Council dinner. "Especially with bloodlines as important as yours and Kael's. The pack needs continuity." Kael's hand found mine under the table, squeezing hard. Through the bond, I felt his anger burning white-hot, but he stayed silent. We had agreed to handle this together, privately, b

New Parents Dylan's POV Sleep became a distant memory. Elena's cries shattered the quiet at two-hour intervals, sometimes more frequently. I would stumble from bed, my muscles aching with exhaustion, to find Nadia already lifting our daughter from her crib. Through the bond, I felt her weariness, but she never complained. "I've got her," I'd say, taking Elena gently. "We've got her," Nadia would correct, refusing to let me shoulder everything alone. Elena was difficult in ways the healers hadn't predicted. She cried for hours without a clear reason. She slept irregularly, her tiny body rejecting any schedule we tried to establish. And her powers—those unprecedented abilities the healers warned us about manifested in terrifying ways. When she cried hard enough, lights throughout the pack house flickered and died. When she laughed, which was rare and prec

Mentoring the AncientDylan's POVKaine sat at our kitchen table like a statue in the wrong museum—ancient, powerful, and utterly out of place. He held a coffee mug with the careful confusion of someone who had forgotten what mornings meant, what simple rituals looked like. His eyes tracked every interaction between Nadia and me, studying us like we were texts written in a language he had once known but lost."Why do you touch her so often?" he asked bluntly during breakfast. "Your hand on her back when you pass. Your fingers brushing hers when you hand her things. It serves no practical purpose."Nadia blushed, but I answered honestly. "Because touch reminds us we're not alone. It says 'I'm here' without words. After years of being apart, we don't take presence for granted."Kaine wrote this down in a leather journal so old it might have predated writing itself. He had been documenting everything—our conversations, our habits, the way we resolved conflicts. It should have felt invasiv