Lahat ng Kabanata ng Chosen by the cursed Alpha king : Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Becoming Luna does not happen overnight. I learn that quickly. Every morning, omegas come to my chambers with scrolls, books, and endless instructions. Aria is always with them, patient and encouraging, her presence a small comfort in a sea of rules. “Posture, Luna,” one omega reminds gently, pressing two fingers against my back. “Shoulders straight.” I obey, even when my muscles ache. Another teaches me how to walk with measured steps, chin lifted, eyes calm. How to greet elders without seeming weak or arrogant. How to speak so my words carry authority without sounding cruel. It feels like learning how to breathe all over again. Sometimes I stumble over titles. Sometimes I forget which fork to use or hesitate too long before speaking. Each mistake makes heat rush to my cheeks. “I don’t think I’m made for this,” I confess to Aria one afternoon as she tightens the sash of my dress. She smiles softly. “You weren’t made for it. You’re growing into it.” That helps. A little. L

Pain pulls me from sleep before sound does.A sharp crack echoes through the room of wood splintering, glass shattering and I sit bolt upright with a gasp.“Damon!”He’s on his feet, half-shifted, claws extended, eyes blazing an unearthly gold. The bed behind him is ruined, shredded as if attacked by a wild beast. His chest heaves, muscles tense, every line of him coiled to strike.For one terrible second, his gaze locks on me.Not seeing me but seeing an enemy.I barely have time to move before he lunges.Instinct takes over, so I roll off the bed, hitting the floor hard. His claws slam into the mattress where I had been seconds before, tearing deep gouges into the wood beneath.“Damon!” I cry again, my heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. “It’s me! Lena!”He snarls, a deep, broken sound, spinning toward me. The curse is all over him now black veins tracing up his neck, his shift unstable, flickering between man and wolf.“We’re still under attack,” he growls, voic

The training ground is quiet. Too quiet for a place meant for strength and sweat and survival. I like it this way. The sun is still low, casting long shadows across the packed earth. A few practice dummies stand at the edges, scarred and worn. I move slowly, deliberately, repeating the same strikes Antonio once showed me. They were awkward, imperfect, but determined. My arms ache. Sweat slides down my spine. I miss my footing once and nearly fall. I steady myself, breathing hard. “You’re wasting energy.” The voice is sharp. Cold. I look up. She stands across the field, tall and straight-backed, muscles coiled beneath fitted training clothes. Brunette hair is tied tightly at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are dark and assessing, cutting into me like blades. She wasn’t there before. “Who are you?” I ask, wiping sweat from my brow. A slow smile curves her lips. Not kind. Not amused. “Marcela,” she says. “High-ranking she-wolf. Commander of the eastern patrol.” The name ri

I can’t breathe inside the pack house. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy with memory and truth. After leaving my aunt’s house, my chest hasn’t stopped aching, but not with grief, but with something restless and alive beneath my skin. So I walk into the garden. The moon hangs low above the trees, bathing the flowers and stone paths in pale silver. Night-blooming roses release their scent, sweet and sharp at the same time. Normally, this place calms me. Ever since I stepped foot into this garden, I felt a surge of peace rushing over me. This place was one of the few places where my size didn’t matter, at least to nature. Tonight, it doesn’t. I place a hand over my stomach, inhaling slowly. That’s when it happens. A sudden surge of hot and electric energy rushes through my veins. My knees nearly buckle as the world tilts. “Lena…” The whisper brushes against my mind. Not my ears. My head snaps up. “Who’s there?” No one answers. The garden blurs at the edges. My visi

The pack square feels different today. Lighter. For the first time since I arrived here, laughter rings freely through the air. Children dart between adults, their shrill giggles echoing as they chase one another. Bright balloons sway above the square, tied to wooden poles and tree branches, their colors catching the sun setting . At the far end, men work together skinning fresh meat, their movements practiced, their voices loud with jokes and teasing. This evening is the month’s pack run. I had heard whispers about it before,how it was one of the oldest traditions of the Red Moon Pack. A night of freedom, of bonding, of wolves being wolves. All morning, the pack has been alive with preparation. Omegas cooking large pots of food, warriors polishing boots and weapons they won’t even carry tonight, women sorting through their finest dresses and cloaks. And me? I spent most of the day right here in the square. Walking around and talking and Smiling. By late afternoon, my feet ac