Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Bloody Luna: Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

Eirene gazed at the towering grand doors through the car window as the vehicle came to a stop right in front of the palace's main staircase. Her heart beat slightly faster than usual.Light reflected off the white marble. Guests entered and exited in immaculately tailored, luxurious attire, as though the night were not merely a birthday celebration, but a gathering of nobility.Daxton stepped out first, then walked around the car and opened the door for Eirene. “Please, Miss,” he said politely.Eirene drew a slow breath before stepping out of the car. Her legs trembled slightly as her feet touched the ground. The night air felt colder than she had expected, perhaps because she was nervous.Of course I’m nervous, Eirene thought, trying to steady herself. I’ve never been to a party like this before.Eirene smoothed the hem of her simple dress. She wore no striking jewellery or excessive make-up. She considere

Yoren was well aware that his birthday celebration was about more than just having a good time. The invited guests had not come merely to offer congratulations or well-wishes; they had hidden agendas. He was not careless; he had been observing the room long before Lysander Abercrombie stepped towards him.Lysander was the alpha of the Tharvok pack. He was tall with perfect posture, and his eyes always seemed relaxed—too relaxed for someone who led one of the most militarily influential packs in the north-eastern territory. His suit was dark and simple, though clearly expensive. Standing at his right was his beta, Spencer Warner—a man with a calm expression and a gaze that never ceased surveying his surroundings.“Alpha Yoren,” Lysander greeted him lightly, as though they were two ordinary men who had met at a party. “Happy birthday.”Yoren responded calmly. “Thank you, Alpha Lysander.”They shook hands, both

Yoren left the main hall without drawing too much attention. His steps remained measured and his back remained straight. His expression remained as impassive as ever. Anyone who saw him would assume he was merely stepping away from the crowd to rest for a moment. In truth, his thoughts were far from simple or calm.Inviting her to meet me was not the right decision, Yoren thought. But I need to confirm something right now.He walked along the quieter side corridor. The music from the hall echoed faintly, muffled by the palace's thick walls and gradually fading. The air there was cooler and cleaner, free from the scents of perfume and alcohol.The silence during his short walk allowed Yoren to think more clearly. He realised, when it was already too late, that he had been toying with a double-edged dilemma.Not inviting Eirene would have been a mistake. Ironically, inviting her had also created a problem.Yoren understood the first

The car sped forward, leaving the gates of Velmoar Palace behind at a steady pace. The tall courtyard lamps receded into the distance, fading into a muted yellow glow that was gradually swallowed by the thin night mist. Cold air slipped through the ventilation vents, carrying the lingering scents of the palace gardens—white roses and damp grass—gradually overtaken by the smells of leather seats and a warm engine.Lysander sat in the back seat, leaning slightly with one arm folded across his chest. His black suit remained immaculate and his tie was still tied tightly. He did not look tired. His face was as calm as ever, yet his gaze was not truly at rest. He stared straight ahead, past the driver’s seat and towards the dark road stretching endlessly forward.Spencer gripped the steering wheel firmly behind the wheel. He drove with complete focus, remaining silent—he clearly knew when to talk and when to remain silent. For now, the silence accompanying their journey was not empty, but a

The Ravenor house was never truly warm, even when the late afternoon sun filtered through its tall, narrow windows. On that day, however, the light only served to make the living room appear more exposed, revealing the fine dust in the air and the tense faces turned towards one another.Heston stood near the long table, both hands braced against its polished wooden surface. His jaw was set tight.On the sofa, Isabella sat clutching a small slip of paper. She clutched it as though afraid it might slip away.“Are you certain?” Heston's voice sounded flat, yet there was a tremor beneath it. “You truly don’t know that man?”Isabella shook her head slowly. “No. I tried to ask his name, but he only gave me this phone number.”Heston stepped closer. His gaze dropped to the small piece of paper in his wife’s hand. The digits were written neatly in firm black ink, with no name or other information. “Did