《His Mate, But Not His Luna》全部章節：第 41 章 - 第 50 章

LyseraI told him everything.Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It poured out of me like something that had been dammed up for years, pressing against my ribs, choking me from the inside. My voice didn’t shake the way I expected it to. It was flat in places, sharp in others, stripped of the softness I’d learned to use to survive.“I was shocked that day,” I said quietly. “When I overheard them. I wanted to run straight to Alpha Henry and tell him everything. I even stood up from where I was hiding. I remember my heart pounding like it wanted to tear through my chest.”Apollo was seated on the edge of the bed now, his hands clasped together, his brows drawn low.“But then I thought about it,” I continued. “Really thought about it. And I knew he wouldn’t believe me. How could he?”I let out a hollow laugh and stared at the ceiling again, at the faint crack running across it like a scar.“Isyra is… perfect,” I said. “That’s how everyone sees her. Meek. Gentle. Kind. The kind of woman who

LyseraLess than an hour after Healer Apollo left, there was a knock at my door.I frowned slightly as I looked at the door. Was it healer Apollo again because no one else ever knocks. Was he here to deliver bad news to me? Did Henry refuse to allow me to be fed? I wanted to turn away from the door but I knew I’d have to face him eventually.I rose slowly from the floor where I still knelt, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. My knees ached, my head felt light. “Come in,” I said and braced myself for what was to come.The door opened. When I saw who it was, I startled so violently that my heart slammed against my ribs. For a split second, fear surged—sharp and instinctive—because her presence had never meant anything good.Madam Joyce entered first, her posture rigid, her expression unreadable. Behind her came two maids I didn’t recognize, each carrying folded bundles of cloth. For a moment, the sight made no sense to me. My mind struggled to catch up, to find the danger hidd

Author’s POVThe evening air was warm.Not the heavy, suffocating warmth of enclosed stone and watchful silence, but the living kind. The sort that slid over skin and sank into bones, carrying the scent of earth and distant pine and the low hum of a pack.Lysera stood beneath it with her head tipped back, eyes closed.For the first time in days, she wasn’t counting footsteps or watching doors. For the first time since confinement, she wasn’t measuring her breaths like borrowed things. She simply stood there, letting the warmth spill over her face, over her shoulders, down the length of her spine.A small smile curved her lips.It was unconscious. The kind that came from relief rather than joy.Her guards lingered a few steps away, giving her the illusion of space without granting her freedom. Two hours. That was all she had been given. Two hours to remember what the sky looked like, what air felt like when it wasn’t rationed.She inhaled deeply.The world smelled alive.That was when

Author’s POVIsyra lay awake in the dark, staring at the carved canopy above Henry’s bed, listening to the slow, indifferent tick of time as it slipped past her.He wasn’t coming.She knew it now with a certainty that sat like a stone in her chest.This was the second night.The second night she had waited with the lamps dimmed low, the sheets cool and undisturbed on his side of the bed. The second night she had told herself he was delayed, that Alpha duties were endless, that exhaustion explained everything.It was a lie.And worse—she knew why.Her father’s words echoed in her mind, merciless and calm, spoken earlier that day with the same tone he used when explaining strategy or sacrifice.Henry’s wolf has begun fighting against you.Isyra swallowed and turned onto her side, facing the empty space where Henry should have been. The mattress hadn’t dipped. The pillow still held its shape. There was no lingering warmth, no trace of him except the faint, fading scent of smoke and steel

Author’s POVHenry stood on a mountain that did not belong to any land he knew.The air was thin and sharp, biting at his lungs with every breath. Jagged stone stretched beneath his boots, the ground uneven and unforgiving, sloping away into nothingness on all sides. Clouds churned below him like a restless sea, thick and gray, swallowing everything beneath the peak. There were no trees. No paths. No sign of civilization.Only sky and stone.And him.Henry turned slowly, his heart pounding, dread coiling low in his gut. He knew this feeling now. Knew the wrongness of it. The way the world felt stitched together by instinct rather than logic.“This isn’t real,” he muttered, though the wind carried his voice away like it meant nothing.A low growl rolled through the air.Not from behind him.From everywhere.The sound vibrated through the mountain itself, through his bones, through the marrow of his spine. Henry clenched his fists, forcing himself not to flinch as a massive white wolf s