All Chapters of The Alpha's Moon Marked Luna: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

GraceThe meeting is held on neutral ground. Of course it is. That is the only way packs will meet these days. All the Alphas need to make sure that no one has the upper hand. It keeps them calm, or an estimation of what calm looks like to an Alpha. A stone lodge is perched high in the ridge between territories, old enough that no one claims it, respected enough that no one dares violate its wards. The kind of place where history is made quietly. My father arrives first, his presence filling the room the way it always has, measured, authoritative, Alpha to the bone. I follow a step behind him, head high, posture composed. The bruises on my throat are hidden beneath a high collar, but I know they’re there.I want them to be there. They have begun to heal, but I couldn’t let them disappear before this meeting, so I applied makeup to darken them. Not enough to look fake, but enough to make them look worse than what they actually are.The other Alphas arrive one by one.Alpha Rour

JustinFern doesn’t move the way she used to.I notice it first in the small things. In the way she walks through the courtyard now without scanning for exits, the way her shoulders stay relaxed instead of drawn tight. She laughs more easily. Speaks more clearly. Wolves step aside for her without thinking, not because they’re told to, but because something in them recognizes her.It should make me happy, but it doesn’t.She’s stronger now. I can’t deny that. There’s a steadiness to her that wasn’t there before, like she’s finally found solid ground after years of treading water.But she’s also… farther away. Not just from me, but from everyone.I watch her from the edge of the training yard as she speaks with Mara, her hands moving as she talks, animated and confident. Her hair is pulled back today, exposing her neck, and the mark that now rests on her skin. It shimmers faintly in the light, letting everyone know what she is. Claimed.The word sticks in my throat like something sh

GavenIt starts small, like it always does. Isn’t that always the case?First, a patrol reports unfamiliar tracks along the eastern ridge. They are too deliberate to be wandering rogues, too careful to be accidental. An hour later, Frostveil scouts are spotted near the river that divides our territories. They retreat before confrontation, leaving no sign but churned earth and the message carved plainly into the land:We are watching.By midday, Eastmarch wolves test the southern pass. Not crossing. Just close enough to measure our response time.The movements of both packs aren’t coincidental. They are coordinated. It is clear that they are working together, and if I had to guess, Alpha Leo is working with them as well. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was behind it all. Wesley stands over the war table in my office, fingers braced against the map. “They’re mapping us,” he says grimly. “Seeing where we reinforce first.”“I know,” I reply.When I marked Fern, the sky burned, and th

GraceJustin believes he chose this. That’s what makes him valuable.Men who think they’re being manipulated fight harder. Men who think they’ve arrived at their own conclusions? They will defend them to the death.He meets me again at the border two nights later. He tells himself it’s for updates, but I know better.He’s watching Blackmoor with new eyes now. Suspicious eyes. Every protective gesture Gaven makes toward Fern, every patrol shift, every private moment; they all confirm what I’ve gently planted.Justin thinks he’s saving her. I let him think that. It is easier that way.“You look tired,” I say when he steps through the trees.“I’m fine.”He isn’t. There’s tension in him now, tight and coiled. Doubt and anger fill his eyes in equal measure. He just isn’t ready to admit it yet. That’s fine. He will in time.“Things are escalating,” he says without preamble.I tilt my head. “On whose side?”He hesitates. That hesitation tells me everything.“Gaven doubled security

JustinI shouldn’t come back. I should have ignored the text message that came through just an hour ago.It was from Grace, asking me to meet her again. I told her no at first, but even through the text I could feel her urgency, her panic. Whatever she has to say is important, and I need to hear her out. Or at least that is what I tell myself when I slip out of the Blackmoor castle in the middle of the night. The border feels different tonight. Like the trees are listening to what is being said. It almost makes me turn around, but when I see her, I am unable to leave. Grace stands just inside Vale territory, with a cloak pulled around her shoulders. She doesn’t look like a schemer. She looks tired and concerned. “You came,” she says softly.“What’s spreading?” I ask.There is no time for a preamble. I don’t know if I was followed. I don’t know if anyone is watching. She studies me carefully.“The council request wasn’t just performance,” she says. “It’s a demand.”My stomac