All Chapters of White Wolf: Blood Moon Rising” : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Nyxara planned the heist the way most people handled a funeral—every detail weighed, every step measured, as if she was preparing to lay something vital to rest. She moved quietly, deliberately, her mind dissecting contingencies in the hush of a city that never truly slept. There was a reverence to her process, the kind reserved for endings—the end of secrets, the end of certainty. Nyxara understood that before anything could begin anew, something old had to die.But death, in this case, was not measured in bodies or bullets. The target wasn’t money, or paintings, or even influence in the visible sense. She was hunting something far more intangible and dangerous: evidence. A ledger so private it was whispered about only in the most paranoid circles—a record of debts owed and collected, bribes delivered in silent rooms, assassinations paid for in coded transactions, scandals scrubbed from the public eye. It was a document that, if exposed, could topple empires and make the world bleed.

Nyxara hated favors.Every favor spun a web—threads that tugged, cut, or tightened when least expected. Sometimes the strings were barbed, sometimes the knives hid behind smiles. Most of the time, the debt cost more than the original wound.That’s why when Elias Cross strolled into her penthouse as if it were his own personal stage—breezing by security she’d handpicked herself—her pulse didn’t slow. It sharpened. Relief was a myth she’d stopped believing in. All she felt was suspicion, cold and deliberate, settling in her chest like frost.“You’ve got balls,” she muttered, not peeling her gaze away from the wall of shifting data streams. “Or you’re suicidal.”Elias flashed that infuriating, bulletproof grin—the one he’d used to talk his way out of blacksites and into royal parties. Once, he’d been the city’s most infamous intelligence broker. Now, he called himself her “ally,” as if the word had ever meant safety. He’d pulled her from the ashes when she was nothing but a rumor and a b

Nyxara didn’t show up alone.She just didn’t bring anyone you could see. The air shifted around her, charged with the restless, invisible presence of every instinct, every secret, every shadow she’d ever carried. She was never truly solitary; the wolf prowled just beneath her skin, the vampire observed from within, and the succubus hid, coiled and wary, all of them locked in uneasy truce while Nyxara walked forward into the unknown.The location details arrived in fragmented bursts, each message a riddle: encrypted, scrambled, shifting every thirty seconds, the coordinates dancing just out of reach. It was as if the meeting itself was trying to escape detection—an event allergic to certainty, repelled by the very idea of permanence. Only when her car crossed an unseen threshold at the city’s edge did the information stabilize, coordinates crystallizing with a finality that made her heart skip. No lights marked the place, no signs warned the unwary. It was a patch of land so aggressive

Nyxara didn’t move. Not a twitch, not even the smallest flicker of breath. If you’d spent any time with her, you’d know—that was the moment the world ought to hold its breath, too. Her rage wasn’t loud, not the kind that crashed through rooms and left splinters in the walls. No, the danger came in the stillness, in the way her presence seemed to crystallize, drawing the air tight and cold. It wasn’t her shouting or pacing holes in the floor that signaled the turning point—it was when she went utterly, perfectly still. That was the moment when everything inside her went silent, when she locked every door and window to her soul, sealing herself tight against the world.She couldn’t shake the image seared into her mind: a white wolf, massive and wild, chained and caged, its eyes burning with the memory of frost and moonlight. The vision haunted her, a living flame behind her eyelids every time she blinked.Alive, but not free.Trapped, limbs wound in runes and metal.Put on display, a li

Nyxara despised surprises. Results—those she could rely on, or so she’d always believed. But today, even her faith in outcomes faltered. Both certainty and unpredictability had betrayed her.Her phone was relentless, a shrill symphony of notifications that refused silence. Updates cascaded in—urgent bulletins from boardrooms, frantic calls from shadowed street corners, encrypted missives from clandestine meetings scattered across three continents. The world’s hidden power brokers scrambled, each one reacting to her gambit in the sanctum as if the very foundations of their empires had been shaken. The architects, those who prided themselves on orchestrating every move, looked rattled in her feeds. But beneath that surface chaos, someone else was moving—someone Nyxara hadn’t anticipated.Then, out of the digital deluge, a message blinked from a channel she’d long ago buried, a line of communication she’d sworn to forget. Elias.I’m helping. Public only. You’ll thank me.She scoffed, a h