Lahat ng Kabanata ng Moonbound – Claimed By The Alpha Brothers : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The moment his polished shoes touched the dirty ground, everything changed. Mistress Juno straightened so fast it looked painful. Zara followed, both of them exchanging a quick, uncertain glance before hurrying forward. For the first time since Elowen had arrived at the Manor, they looked… unsettled. Nervous. “Sir Zevrian,” Juno greeted, her voice smoother than Elowen had ever heard it. “We—we weren’t informed of your visit.” Zara dipped her head slightly. “If we had known, preparations would have been made accordingly.” Elowen watched from behind the glass, her expression unreadable. So this was one of them. One of the men responsible for everything. He didn’t look like a monster. That was the problem. Tall. Composed. Dressed in dark, tailored to perfection three piece suit. Not a single movement wasted. Not a single emotion visible. Like none of this touched him. Like the chains, the glass, the bodies lined up like objects— Like it was all beneath him. Elowen’s jaw tight

“Kaelen!” Ellion’s voice broke through the tension first, bright with something that didn’t belong in that room—relief. Genuine relief. It was so out of place that Elowen’s head turned toward him instinctively. He was already on his feet. The others didn’t move.Why on earth don't they all look alike? Each unique to his personality. Why? Kaelen stepped fully into the room, the chains dragging behind him in a slow, grating rhythm that seemed to scrape against the silence itself. Every step he took echoed, not because the room demanded it, but because everyone else had gone still enough to let it. He didn’t look restrained. That was the unsettling part. Despite the chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles, despite the guards flanking him, Kaelen carried himself like none of it mattered. Like this was a walk he had chosen, not one forced on him. A crooked smile rested on his lips, lazy and sharp at the same time. His gaze swept across the room once, taking everything in

Elowen sat at the edge of the bed, her shoulders still shaking faintly as she tried to steady her breathing. The softness beneath her felt foreign, almost wrong, like her body didn’t belong in something this comfortable. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she pressed her lips together hard, trying to force the tears back down, trying to regain control before she completely unraveled again. A box of tissues appeared in front of her. She blinked, her vision still slightly blurred, and looked up. Ellion stood there, his expression quiet, careful. Not pitying—just… aware. “Here,” he said gently. She hesitated for a second before taking one, her fingers brushing against his briefly. The contact made her stiffen, but she quickly pulled back, pressing the tissue to her face as she wiped at her tears. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though her voice betrayed her immediately. Ellion didn’t argue. He didn’t call her out on it either. He simply sat down beside her, leaving just eno

The doors to the Oracle opened with a low, echoing creak that seemed to vibrate through Elowen’s chest. The space beyond was vast, colder than the rest of the house, and filled with a kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—it felt watchful. She stepped inside slowly, her heels brushing against the polished stone floor, each step sounding louder than it should have. The aisle stretched long before her, leading to a raised platform where three figures sat in stillness. Two women flanked an elderly man at the center, their presence commanding in very different ways. The woman on the left looked younger, her posture elegant, her gaze sharp and observant. The one on the right was older, her face lined with age, her eyes completely white, unfocused yet unsettling, as though she saw far more than anyone else in the room. Elowen swallowed and forced herself forward. As she walked, her eyes flickered to the sides, and that was when she noticed them—the chairs. Ten of them, five

Elowen’s chest rose and fell in uneven bursts behind the gag, tears streaming freely down her face as everything around her spiraled into something she couldn’t make sense of anymore. The pain in her wrists, the pressure against her throat, the cold surface of the board beneath her—it all faded into the background compared to the sheer weight of what was unfolding in front of her. The elders, who moments ago had held absolute authority, were now on their knees. The room that had once felt controlled and structured now felt unpredictable, almost dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with blades or claws. Grand Alpha Sylas remained bowed, but his voice rose, strained with something deeper than authority now. “I am tired,” he said, each word carrying the weight of years. “Tired of sacrificing my blood again and again. This cycle needs to end.” The figure standing in Lysara’s body did not move immediately. When she did, it was slow, deliberate, like every motion carried purp