All Chapters of My Luna's Revenge (Blinded by Fury): Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Chapter 120 Viona's POV The message arrived in the quietest hour of the morning, sealed in the familiar silver Logo of the Royals Fraction. I almost didn't open it. My first thought had been that it was another formality, another decree about the annulment that was supposed to have ended everything between Nicolas and me. The Moon Goddess had denied it, of course. Her will was carved into every corner of my life whether I wanted it or not. But still, I had learned not to expect surprises from that path anymore. And yet... This was no decree. It was an invitation. From Nicolas himself. My breath stilled as I read the words again, my eyes tracing the delicate curve of the script. He was asking me to meet him. A date. He had chosen the word deliberately, bold enough that I felt the heat rise in my chest. After everything, after Flora, after the silence between us, he wanted this?

Chapter 122 Viona's POV The world steadied with a violent lurch, and then silence pressed in. The terrace was gone. Nicolas's shouts, the fountain's music, the lanterns' glow-all vanished in the rush of shadows. I staggered slightly, Mirage's grip on my wrist the only thing holding me upright. My heart was still pounding from the suddenness of it all. When my vision cleared, I knew where I was. His penthouse. The vast expanse of glass windows stretched out before me, framing the city below in a sea of lights. The room smelled faintly of cedar and steel, sharp and clean, but warmer than I remembered. Curtains shifted with the night breeze, and the glow from the skyline painted the space in gold and silver. Mirage finally released me. I stumbled back a step, clutching my arm where his hand had been. Anger flared through the confusion, through the pounding in my chest

Chapter 124 Mirage POV The city lay quiet beneath the glass walls of my penthouse. Viona was curled against me, her breathing slow, steady, her lashes brushing her cheeks like shadows. She looked almost unreal in sleeping softly when she was usually sharp, looking fragile when she was usually fired. Her body was warm against his, her scent still clinging to his skin, her blood flowing in my veins. The mark I had left on her back glistened faintly, fresh and unmistakable. A claim. My lips curved into a cruel smile. With one arm still wrapped around her waist, I reached for my phone. A flick, a click, and the camera caught the scene: Viona sleeping soundly in my arms, my hand resting possessively against her bare skin, the faint glow of my mark etched into her back. Another angle, sharper, clearer-the kind of picture that needed no explanation. Satisfied, he hit send. The images sh

Chapter 126 2 weeks later The news arrived like a thunderclap. through the heart of the entire pack. Alpha Morgan was dead. It had happened on what should have been a simple business trip. A journey meant to secure alliances, to strengthen bonds with neighboring clans. He had left with his entourage in good health and good spirits. Yet by dawn the next day, the message came back, chilling and impossible: his body had been found in the borderlands, blood staining the earth, life stolen with brutal efficiency. The great Alpha Morgan, leader, father, the steady pillar of their world-gone. The pack mourned. Howls echoed through the night, sorrow carried on the wind. Warriors stood silent with lowered heads. Mothers wept openly in the streets. The loss was not just personal; it was the shattering of stability, of a future once so certain. But no grief was sharper, no rage more consumi

Chapter 128 Viona's POV Light pack hall The rain had not stopped since dawn, and I could not help but think the heavens themselves mourned Alpha Morgan's death. The entire estate felt heavy, the soil damp, the halls thick with grief. Candles flickered on the long oak tables, their light struggling against the suffocating silence. Every whisper, every breath, was swallowed by the emptiness his absence left behind. My eyes found Mirage standing at the edge of the room. The shadows carved across his face made him look older, harder-untouchable. His gaze was fixed on the chair at the center of the hall, his father's chair, still empty and waiting. The sight of it twisted something inside me. That chair had once been a symbol of strength, of wisdom, of a presence that bound the pack together. Now it was just a cruel reminder of what had been lost. His jaw was set, his eyes unblinking. His hands, clasped tightly be