Semua Bab Hidden Hair: The Runway Lunar Bride: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The scent of rain and expensive cedarwood usually made my heart flutter. Tonight, it made me want to vomit. I stood in the center of the grand pack hall, my fingers trembling as I clutched the small velvet box in my pocket. Inside was a pair of tiny hand-knitted booties—white as a winter moon. I had spent weeks preparing the perfect way to tell him. Liam, you’re going to be a father. But as the heavy oak doors swung open, the joyful words died in my throat. My husband, Alpha King Liam Hamilton, didn’t walk in alone. On his arm was Isabella Vance, her eyes gleaming with a triumphant malice that chilled my blood. She was wearing a dress the color of fresh blood, and her scent—cloying, artificial lilies—was smeared all over Liam’s neck. “Liam?” My voice was a pathetic whisper. “What is this? You were supposed to be at the border council.” Liam didn't look at me. He looked through me. His jaw was set like granite, his Alpha aura radiating a coldness that made my inner wolf whimper a

The gates of the Silver Moon Pack were exactly as I remembered them—cold, towering, and etched with the history of Alphas who had ruled with iron fists. Five years ago, I was dragged through these gates in chains, my back bleeding and my soul screaming. Today, I rode through them in a blacked-out SUV, my children hidden behind tinted glass and my face obscured by a veil of mystery. As the car pulled into the courtyard, the pack members gathered. They whispered, their eyes wide. They didn't see a "Cursed Omega." They saw the savior of their dying bloodlines. "Stay in the car until I give the signal," I whispered to Aries and Lyra. "And remember—no magic. No shifting." "But Mommy, the air here smells like old socks and lies," Aries grumbled, his little nose wrinkling. "That's the smell of a pack that lost its way, little one," I said, stepping out of the car. The moment my boots hit the gravel, the atmosphere changed. Liam was already there, waiting at the base of the palace step

​The Lunar Suite hadn't changed, and that was the cruelest part of my homecoming. ​The scent of jasmine and moonlight still clung to the silk hangings of the four-poster bed. The vanity, carved from pearlescent driftwood, still sat in the corner where I used to sit and brush my hair, waiting for a husband who eventually decided I was a "plague." ​But as the heavy mahogany doors clicked shut and the distinct thrum of Liam’s Alpha seal locked them from the outside, the nostalgia curdled. I wasn't the Luna here. I was a high-value prisoner. ​“Mommy, the walls are thick,” Lyra whispered, her small hand pressed against the stone. Her eyes were wide, her pupils darting as she processed the thousand heartbeats of the palace. “I can hear the guards breathing outside. They’re nervous. They’re thinking about the ‘Silver Shadow’ and the ‘Ghost Queen.’” ​“Let them think,” I said, stripping off my travel cloak to reveal the tactical medical gear underneath. I needed to be ready to move,

​The morning after the trial should have been a celebration, but the air in the Silver Moon palace felt like the moment before a lightning strike. ​I sat at the long, obsidian dining table, watching Aries and Lyra eat. They were oblivious to the storm brewing outside, arguing over who got the larger piece of honey-toast. But I couldn't eat. Every time I looked at the heavy velvet curtains covering the windows, I felt the vibration of paws—hundreds of them—pacing at our borders. ​"You're doing that thing again," Liam said softly. ​I looked up. He was sitting at the head of the table, his crown discarded on a side table, looking more like a tired father than a King. He was watching me with an intensity that made my skin itch. ​"What thing?" ​"Thinking ten moves ahead," he said. He reached across the table, his large hand covering mine. "The borders are secure, Elena. My warriors are revitalized. No one is crossing that line." ​"It's not the line I'm worried about, Liam. It

​The victory should have tasted like honey; instead, it tasted like copper and cold sweat. ​The Great Square was being scrubbed of the Crescent Moon’s treachery, but the stone remained stained. I stood in the center of the royal bedchamber—my bedchamber—listening to the silence of the palace. It was a heavy, artificial quiet, broken only by the distant thrum of the rebuilding efforts outside. ​"She didn't just walk out, Liam." ​I didn't turn around. I was staring at the empty wall where the High Priest’s grimoire had once hung in a locked glass case. The velvet backing was still indented where the heavy, iron-bound book had rested for centuries. ​"The locks weren't picked," I continued, my voice a low, clinical rasp. "They were dissolved. Alchemical acid. The kind only a High Priest or someone trained by one would have access to." ​Liam’s reflection appeared in the window glass. He was standing by the heavy oak doors, his shirt unbuttoned halfway, revealing the fresh banda