All Chapters of In Search of Liberation: Luna In name Only: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Content Warning:This chapter contains scenes of non-consensual sexual activity, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Reader discretion is strongly advised.Another month crawled by, and Patrick was fucking tired of the pretence. He needed to make headway, now. Rebecca had been riding his arse, calling him weak and forgettable because he couldn't charm his way into Michelle's pants and get her to spill her financial secrets.The inadequacy gnawed at him. Rebecca was right, and that knowledge burned like acid. Michelle's resistance felt like a personal insult, her closed-off demeanour a slap to his ego. He decided to confront her directly, though he doubted he could maintain his false niceness much longer. She was getting on his last goddamn nerve.Patrick purchased an expensive bouquet from the florist and left work early, dumping the remaining tasks on his Beta and Gamma.When he arrived home, Michelle's surprise at his early return was evident in her wary eyes. He thrust the flowers

Patrick could not believe what he had just heard. For a long moment he simply stared at Earl, his neighbour, wondering if his ears had deceived him. The man’s wrinkled face remained perfectly calm, the faintest hint of a knowing smile at the corner of his mouth.“What did you say?” Patrick asked again, slower this time, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.Earl folded his arms. “I said, since you already knew about the outing, did he tell you he was fucking her too?”The words landed like a thunderclap.Earl kept talking, oblivious to the storm he had just unleashed. “It was hard not to know. My bedroom window faces yours. They didn’t bother to close the curtains. I could hear her moaning clear as day. The kind that makes a man jealous. I saw most of it too, him on top of her, pumping like his life depended on it.”The old man even laughed at the memory.Patrick saw red.A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest. The sound was raw, primal, the sound of something ancient being unchain

Patrick’s rage had not faded; it had only calcified into something colder, darker. He sat in the dim light of the bedroom, his eyes fixed on Michelle like a predator toying with prey it no longer needed to eat, only hurt.His voice came low, dangerous, controlled. “So that’s why Jason stopped me that night. That’s why he warned me. That’s why he called me to treat you nicely.”Michelle lay on the floor, her face swollen, her lip split, the silver bracelet gleaming cruelly around her wrist. She could barely lift her head, every movement sending spikes of pain through her body.Patrick leaned closer, the edge of his mouth twitching with bitter amusement. “So you told him to challenge me for you, right? You wanted him to be your hero? To fight me, take you away, give you the fairytale ending you’ve been craving?”He crouched in front of her, eyes burning with disgust. “I’ll show you what that costs. Whatever you went through before, that was nothing. What’s coming next will make you beg

Jason’s hand had barely brushed her arm when she pulled away as though his touch burned.“I can’t have your scent on me,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, her words trembling with panic. “He’ll kill me.”Tears streamed down her face, streaking through the faint dust on her cheeks. She looked fragile, drained, a ghost of the woman he remembered. The hollows beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights; her skin was pale, her lips cracked.Midnight stirred restlessly inside him, uneasy. She’s telling the truth.Jason swallowed hard, stepping closer, lowering his voice. “Michelle… what happened?”Her body sagged as though the question had broken something loose inside her. And then, slowly, she began to tell him everything.She told him how Patrick found out. How Earl had gone to him, spilling their secret like poison. How Patrick’s rage had unleashed something worse than before.She spoke of the beatings, the kind that didn’t heal overnight. Of the silver binds that sank into her fles

The dungeon stank of rust and old blood. Every breath Jason drew scraped his throat like sandpaper, and each exhale steamed faintly in the cold air. The torches that lined the corridor outside his cell burned low, their light flickering over the damp stone and the faint silver residue that clung to the walls. He had been awake for hours, pacing, thinking, calculating. The longer he stared at those bars, the more convinced he became that Patrick’s arrogance would be his downfall.It always was.Jason had built this place himself years ago, when the Range Pack still had order and decency. He’d reinforced the cells with tempered steel, lined the seams with diluted silver, and installed locks designed to withstand claws and fury. But he’d also designed fail-safes, small imperfections only he knew existed, tiny mechanical indulgences that allowed the warden to maintain control. And now, that knowledge was his only weapon.He could still smell the faint traces of Michelle on his skin, fadin