All Chapters of Moonbound At Sliver Ridge: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The Night Market was alive, thrumming like a heartbeat under my feet, every lantern-strung alley packed with wolves, fae merchants, witches hawking glowing wares, and humans bold—or stupid—enough to wander in. Smoke from roasting meat curled with incense, sweet and sharp, tangled with the buzz of wards that kept the chaos just this side of dangerous. Magic pulsed faintly in the cobblestones, enough to raise the hair on my arms.But I barely noticed any of it.Because she was here.My Princess.Rhea walked at Cal’s side, her silver hair catching every flicker of firelight, her chin tilted higher than her pulse allowed. I could feel it through the bond, faint but there—skittering, unsteady, that tug deep in my chest that told me she was barely holding it together. Jax prowled just behind her, shadow-dark and unreadable, while Seth moved like he owned the place, smirking at everyone who dared to look too long. And me? I hung back half a step, just enough to watch her every move.The whis

The SUV rolled to a smooth stop at the edge of the academy courtyard, sunlight glinting off the polished black hood like it wanted to blind me before class. Figures. Even the damn car had dominance issues.Seth leaned back in the passenger seat, smirking at me like he had all the time in the world. “Don’t do anything stupid, snowflake.”I shot him a look. “Define stupid.”“Breathing near another male without supervision,” Rory chimed from behind him, grinning way too wide. He leaned forward between the seats, his hair falling into his eyes like he’d styled it that way on purpose. “Or, you know, smiling at someone who isn’t me. Tragic.”“Tragic is you talking this early,” I muttered, shouldering my bag.Callum’s voice came from my left, steady as a wall. “Enough.” His storm-grey eyes flicked to me, unreadable but heavy with all the things he didn’t say. “We’ll be here after your classes.”Jaxon didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His gaze was heat on my skin, steady, dark, possessi

The air in the training hall smelled faintly of iron and sage, the wards woven into the stone walls humming low like a heartbeat. Shifting class was never quiet—wolves muttering, stretching, testing their claws—but today the noise grated more than usual. My head still ached from everything that had gone down this week.I sat on the mat near the back, tugging at the hem of my lilac top, trying to look less like the girl who’d been dragged onto a stage and claimed by four Alphas in front of the entire school. Spoiler: I was failing.Professor Brannick stalked to the center, his presence cutting the room into silence. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The wards flared when he spoke, like the magic itself respected him.“Pairs,” he barked. “Form up. Partial shift drills, then stabilization.”The groans rippled across the hall. Shifting was painful when you weren’t in the right headspace, and judging by the slouch of shoulders and muttered curses, no one was.I paired with Bree, because o

The ballroom had been gutted and rebuilt into something out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on who you asked.Silver Ridge Pack didn’t do “small.” The vaulted ceiling shimmered with charmed starlight, runes etched into the beams glowing faintly like constellations. Crystal chandeliers dripped from above, each prism throwing fractured light across the marble floors until it felt like I was walking inside the night sky itself. Dark velvet banners hung from the walls, embroidered with the Caine crest—a wolf encircled by stormlight—reminding everyone whose land this was.The long banquet tables had been pushed aside to make way for a central dance floor, the edges lined with flickering lanterns carved with protective sigils. The air itself hummed with faint magic, wards layered thick to keep tempers in check—because when you shoved this many young into one room, you needed more than polite society to keep things from combusting.I smoothed my hands down the dress the boys had somehow

I noticed it first on a Wednesday that felt like it couldn’t decide between rain and moonlight.My snowflake sat hunched over a fortress of textbooks at the long table in our private library, hair slipping over one shoulder, mouth pursed as she chewed on the end of a quill like it had personally offended her GPA. The wards set into the carved beams—old fae work braided with wolf sigils—usually purred in the background like content cats. Tonight they were… alert. Silver veining along the rafters brightened and dimmed, brightened and dimmed, tracking her pulse like she was a storm the room had to learn.She didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. She was memorizing comparative treaty clauses between Lycan’Dra and Drakonis like her life depended on it. Which, to be fair, in her head it did. “Scholarship kid” was the story she told herself when she thought no one was listening, and my chest did that tight, annoyed thing every time it crossed her face. She’d rather swallow glass than let us pa