บททั้งหมดของ The Alpha's Plump Luna: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

[KAEL]The battlefield cleanup took another hour.Bodies removed. Blood washed from stone. Defensive positions reinforced. Warriors rotated to allow the exhausted to rest while maintaining full security.I moved through it all on autopilot, my mind racing through implications.Conrad alive meant everything Emrys discovered was worse than we'd thought. This wasn't just territorial reclamation—this was a personal vendetta spanning decades.And tomorrow's ceremony was the target.'We need to cancel it,' Saen growled. 'Too dangerous.''Can't,' I argued back. 'The Blue Moon ceremony is sacred. Canceling would cause panic and show weakness.''Better panic than slaughter.'Valid point. One I didn't have a good counter for.My phone buzzed. Emrys.Emrys: Prisoner's awake. Talking. You need to hear this.I was already moving.Mira's clinic smelled of antiseptic and blood. The rogue lay strapped to a bed, a grey-haired doctor standing nearby with arms crossed."He's been very cooperative," Mira

[RHIANNON]The blackened edges began to fade. Flesh knitting together beneath my touch with visible progress—muscle reforming, skin closing over injuries that should've taken weeks of careful treatment.Around me, conversations stopped.I didn't look up. Couldn't afford to break concentration when the healing had just started gaining momentum.But the light kept growing. Brighter. Warmer. Spreading beyond the single warrior beneath my hands like it had developed consciousness and purpose separate from my control.Reaching toward every injured person in the infirmary.Simultaneously.'Moon Goddess,' someone breathed.I became the center—standing motionless while power flowed through me in waves, touching wounds I couldn't see, mending damage I hadn't directly assessed. Operating on instinct older than conscious thought.This wasn't effort. This was surrender.Letting the gift do what it was designed for without questioning or doubting or second-guessing every movement.The infirmary fi

[EMRYS]Kael was waiting in his office when I arrived to escort him to the war room."So." He didn't look up from the maps spread across his desk. "The witch is here.""With six others from her coven. They're settling into the packhouse now.""And the kiss at the gates?" Now he looked up, one eyebrow raised. "That happen before or after you remembered we're trying to save the pack from annihilation?"Heat flooded my face. "That was—she just—I didn't—""Relax." Kael's expression softened into something almost amused. "I know about Western Coven. You told me yourself four years ago when you came back looking like someone had rearranged your entire worldview in a week."I had told him. Drunk, confused, and still smelling like cinnamon and magic. Kael had listened without judgment, offered advice I'd mostly ignored, and never mentioned it again.Until now."That was a mistake," I said firmly."Was it?" Kael stood, gathering the maps. "Because from what you told me then, it sounded like th

[CONRAD]~At 7 a.m. on the morning of the Blue Moon Ceremony.~The drill was brutal by design.Three hundred rogues moved through formations I'd spent months perfecting—strike patterns meant to overwhelm defensive positions and coordinated attacks designed to exploit every weakness in Crescent Moon's security. Sweat and blood mixed in the dirt. Bones cracked when someone moved too slow.I stood watching from elevated ground, satisfaction curling through my chest.'Almost there,' my wolf growled. 'Almost time to take back what's ours.'Almost.The word tasted like vindication and rage combined. Twenty years of planning, hiding, and gathering strength while Bastian played at being Alpha and his whelp inherited stolen power.Tonight, under the Blue Moon, I'd correct every injustice.My phone buzzed. Freya's name appeared on screen.I answered without looking away from the training grounds. "Yes?""We have a problem." Her voice was clipped, urgent. "One of the dens has been compromised. T

[CORA]The kitchen was chaos in the best way—organized, purposeful, alive with movement.Pots boiled on every burner. Knives flashed against cutting boards in rhythmic precision. The ovens blazed hot enough to make sweat bead along my hairline despite the open windows. Over three hundred wolves needed feeding tonight, maybe more if neighboring packs sent representatives for the Blue Moon ceremony.Fifteen hours until moonrise.I stirred the venison stew with mechanical efficiency, adding herbs by instinct rather than measurement. Thirty years in pack kitchens taught me what recipes needed without looking at written instructions.Lena worked the bread station, flour dusting her dark hair white. Safi chopped vegetables with the focused intensity of someone trying not to think too hard. Maris arranged desserts on platters, fingers quick and careful.We moved around each other without collision, a dance perfected through years of shared labor.Everything should've felt festive. Anticipato