บททั้งหมดของ His Luna Returned—So I Left With His Baby”: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

The silver blast tore a hole in the ritual.It didn’t last long.It didn’t have to.***For a few heartbeats, everything was noise and falling light.The lattice overhead shattered in jagged streaks—shards of brightness that hit the air and dissolved before they touched stone. The runes at the dais edges screamed in a pitch only wards could hear, power scrambling to find new paths through a pattern that no longer matched its diagrams.The guards closest to the platform reeled, hands flying to their ears.The medic dove under his console on pure survival instinct.Calista staggered, one hand flying to the relic‑bracer as if to keep it from being ripped off her arm by the backlash. Its false Lunaris hum guttered, protesting the presence of real power unleashed.Crowe’s carefully composed face contorted for once into pure, unvarnished fear.“El—” Daire coughed, lungs punched by the shockwave, curse, and silver both rioting under his skin.Elowen’s shield still hung in the air for a fract

The engines outside revved higher, lights flickering across the cracks in the wood. A low growl vibrated in Daire’s chest before he strangled it down for Elowen’s sake.“We’re surrounded,” he said.And for the first time since the barn door had closed, he let his wolf look at something other than her.---Rae eased another slat aside and hissed between her teeth.“They brought the whole fucking fleet.”Daire moved to the wall, every line of him coiled. A distant thrum of armored tires on dirt reverberated through the barn floor, synchronized with the low, insectile hum of shield projectors outside. Elowen pushed herself higher on the cot, ignoring Mae’s hiss of protest, needing to see, even if it was only through Rae’s narrow view.“Let me,” he said.Rae shifted just enough for him to press one eye to the gap.The night beyond the barn had been carved into harsh slices of white.Floodlights mounted on armored Tribunal vehicles washed over the clearing, turning dirt to chalk and trees

For a heartbeat after Calista’s whisper, the world held its breath.Then, it exhaled in blood.Daire sagged forward, only the relic’s hilt and Calista’s hand on his shoulder, keeping him from collapsing completely. Blood dripped off the blade in slow, obscene beats, pattering dark onto the trampled dirt.Nightmoor’s line wavered.He felt it even through the fog—pack bonds fraying with shock, wolves who’d taken stab wounds and curses themselves suddenly reeling at the sight of *their* Alpha on his knees“Alpha—”“Daire—?”“What did she—”Voices blurred into noise.The curse that had been threading his veins for days shuddered, pattern scrambling, then surged greedily toward the new wound, feeding on the relic’s invasive magic. His chest felt as if someone had filled it with broken glass and then shaken him.His wolf was still gone.The loss rang inside him like a bell struck and left to hum.He managed one more breath.One more drag of air that tasted like dirt and exhaust and Elowen’s

The barn emptied one layer at a time.Mae ordered most of the fighters and medics back outside with the tone of a woman who’d tolerate bullets before backtalk. Lunaris adepts shifted to the perimeter, reinforcing wards instead of hovering. Soryn lingered only long enough to confer with Mae in low, rapid-fire Lunaris before stepping out herself.“At the door,” the Archmatron told Kieran. “Anyone forces their way past you. You have my permission to shoot first and ask questions of their corpse.”“Yes, Archmatron,” Kieran said, and for once, there was no edge of mockery in it. Just iron.He took position just outside the inner room Mae had commandeered from the barn’s storeroom—a small, warded space with a narrow bed shoved against one wall, a table dragged in as makeshift altar, and Lunaris sigils already smudged into the floor from a dozen emergency rituals.Elowen stood at the foot of the bed, one hand braced on the frame, Daire’s blood drying on her skin. The contractions had eased t

The old moonstone dais had never looked less like a holy place.They crested the ridge at dusk, the sky bruised purple and red. The clearing below lay in a natural bowl, ringed with jagged stones and scrub pine. At its center, the dais sat: a wide circle of pale, veined stone half-sunk into the earth, its surface etched with ancient lines.Tonight, it was ringed with vehicles.Tribunal transports and shield rigs hummed around it like parasites clinging to a heart. Portable floodlights had been set up at the cardinal points, bathing the dais in stark, clinical white.On the far edge, Calista stood where an officiant might have once stood, the moonstone at her back. A portable Meridian Cradle unit squatted beside her on a metal stand—white enamel, silver channels, a crown of needle-fine conduits arching over an empty space.In her hand, the relic blade gleamed.Crowe flanked her, suit jacket gone, tie loosened, hair mussed in a way no stylist would have allowed. He still held himself wi