All Chapters of The Alpha's Plump Luna: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

[EMRYS]Order always calmed me. Straight lines. Clean surfaces. Files stacked exactly where they belonged.The office looked the same as it always did, yet everything outside its walls felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.I sat behind the desk, fingers resting on a closed report, listening to the muffled noise of the packhouse beyond. Footsteps. Voices. Too many people were moving with too much tension in their shoulders.The door opened without ceremony.One glance told me everything I needed to know.Kael crossed the threshold like someone dragging a weight that no one else could see. Shoulders slumped just a fraction. Jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Storm-grey eyes dulled by exhaustion that no amount of pride could hide.I'd seen him exhausted before—after battles that lasted days, during the siege when Conrad's forces pressed our borders, and in the weeks following Lyra's death.This was different. Worse. The kind of bone-deep fatigue that came from fighting enemies you

[KAEL]I set the bags down, turning toward the window where Rhiannon stood looking out at the tree line."Is it to your liking?" I kept my voice light."It's beautiful." Flat. Distant. Delivered on autopilot.Arie had already set about unpacking, giving us space without abandoning it completely. She'd been the right call—someone who could hold Rhiannon's hand without reinforcing Luna expectations, who could make her laugh at something stupid when everything felt too heavy.I moved to the kitchen.Cooking grounded me in ways I'd never properly acknowledged until Rhiannon. The rhythm of it—finding ingredients, deciding what to make from whatever was available, giving my hands occupation while my brain processed things that didn't have tactical solutions.Isolde had stocked the cabin well. Dried goods. Preserved meats. Enough for several days without needing to think about supply.A simple meal. Hot. Something that felt like care on a plate.I was halfway through when Rhiannon appeared i

[RHIANNON]The last morning arrived too quickly.I stood at the cabin window watching early light filter through pine branches, dew catching on needles like scattered glass. The world outside looked untouched. No urgency. No missing wolves. No psychological warfare wrapped in flowers and photographs.Just the forest breathing slowly, and the smell of woodsmoke still threaded through my hair from last night's fire.Three days had passed like water through open hands.'We needed this,' Nyx murmured, drowsy and content in ways she hadn't been in weeks.We had. That was what made leaving feel like grief.I didn't want to go back yet. Didn't want to be Luna with her obligations and her guilt and her visions that arrived violently and uninvited. Didn't want to walk back into a packhouse humming with fear.I just wanted to be Rhiannon a little longer.The first morning had started before anyone else woke.Habit, mostly. Years of being an omega meant early rising was carved into muscle memory

[KAEL]The second howl came before the first one finished echoing.Longer this time. Layered—multiple throats synchronized so precisely it registered as one voice until you listened past the surface. Deliberate coordination. Trained wolves, not wild ones.Saen slammed against my ribs with enough force to make me stagger.'Trap,' he snarled. 'Move.'Rhiannon's scent shifted beside me—sharpening into an electric storm, her power responding before conscious thought caught up.I grabbed her wrist. "Run."No discussion. No explanation.Behind us, the wine glass overturned and the blanket fell. Three days of careful peace abandoned in the space of a single breath.I opened the mind-link to Emrys as we hit the tree line.'Lock the perimeter. Now. Something's wrong.'Static. Delay. Then nothing.The silence was worse than chaos could've been.We ran. The forest closed around us—branches snapping against my shoulders, boots finding uneven ground, breath coming hard and controlled.I should've

[KAEL]Something solidified in her expression. Grief compressed into the particular shape of a person choosing function over feeling."Tell me what you need," she answered."Find Arie. Get her inside. Stay together—both of you—until I come back."Her eyes flared. "You're not going alone—""I'm going fifty feet into the tree line to pick up the trail. I'm not engaging." Mostly true. "I need to know which direction and how many. That's all."She didn't believe me completely. Smart woman. But she understood necessity."Fifty feet," she repeated. Warning wrapped in agreement.I went.The trail was unmistakable once I shifted fully—four separate scents besides Arie's, moving north-northeast in a tight formation. Professional spacing. Someone had taught these wolves how to move without spreading their scent signature too broadly. Military rather than rogue.Four wolves plus one infant. Moving quickly but not running—the pace suggested carrying rather than fleeing.Taking their time. Confide