《His Mate, But Not His Luna》全部章節：第 51 章 - 第 60 章

Author’s POVThe room was filled with a tense, uneasy silence.Henry lay on the bed in Harlow’s chamber, his broad frame unnaturally still against the dark sheets. His chest rose and fell slowly, shallow breaths that looked more like the body remembering how to live than choosing to. His skin had lost its usual warmth, the healthy glow of an Alpha dulled to a pallor. He looked like a ghost of his former self.Harlow sat rigidly in a chair near the wall, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had gone white. He hadn’t looked away from Henry once since they’d carried him in. Not when the blood had soaked through his hands. Not when Henry had gone slack in his arms. Not even when Healer Apollo arrived, face drawn and movements swift, and took control of the room.Now Apollo stood at Henry’s side again, bent over him, fingers pressing lightly along his neck, his wrist, the place where teeth marks still marred the skin despite hours of tr

Author’s POVThe room was thick with perfume, heat, and restrained fury.Isyra stood at the center of her chambers while two maids fluttered around her, fastening the last hooks of her gown and smoothing invisible creases that did not exist. Silk slid over her skin like a second layer of armor—deep blue, cut to command attention, chosen deliberately. Not soft. Not gentle. Powerful.Her hair was pinned back in an elegant sweep that exposed her throat, her collarbones, the line of her jaw. The maids dusted shimmer across her cheekbones, darkened her lashes, painted her lips a muted rose that suggested control rather than sweetness.She stared at her reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.Good.This was not the girl who cried on her bed minutes ago.This was the woman her father had demanded she become.“Leave,” Isyra said coolly once they finished.The maids bowed quickly and retreated, relief obvious in their hurried steps. The door closed behind them wi

Author’s POVWhen Lysera disappeared down the corridor, Isyra did not move at first.She stood where she was, spine straight, chin lifted, watching the empty space as though Lysera might reappear if she stared hard enough. The echoes of boots and dragged footsteps faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the pack house and the low thrum of unrest that never truly quieted.Something cold unfurled in Isyra’s chest.Not relief.Not satisfaction.Possession.Lysera was gone—for now—but Isyra knew better than to mistake removal for victory. Wolves were persistent creatures. So were mistakes. And Lysera, infuriatingly, had a way of lingering even when she wasn’t present. Isyra inhaled slowly, then turned on her heel.Bellona stood a few paces away, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed along her temple. Madam Joyce hovered near the wall, hands folded, eyes lowered just enough to appear respectful without fully surrendering.Isyra’s lips curved.“Didn’t Alpha Hudson come h

Author povFor a heartbeat, Isyra did not breathe. Then her eyes went fully silver.“How dare you,” she hissed.She stepped forward, voice trembling—not with weakness, but with barely leashed rage.“How dare you speak of my loss as though it disqualifies me.”She lifted her chin. “Henry lies bleeding because an enemy struck from the shadows. And while he fights for his life, you undermine the only person standing between this pack and chaos.”Mathias opened his mouth—“Seize him,” Isyra said calmly.Bellona moved instantly. Her guards surged forward with her. Mathias barely had time to turn before his arms were wrenched behind his back.“This is treason!” he roared. “You arrogant girl—!”“Careful,” Isyra said coolly. “Every word you speak digs your grave deeper.”The elders who had followed him froze.One stepped back. Then another. Their bodies shaking with heat.Within moments, two elders were bowing, voices shaking as they pledged obedience—terrified of silver handcuffs and cold da

Author’s POVSilence settled over Henry’s office like a held breath.The echo of Monroe’s slap still seemed to linger in the air, sharp and invisible, vibrating against the stone walls long after the sound itself had died. Isyra stood where she was, one hand pressed to her burning cheek, eyes unfocused, chest rising too fast as she struggled to draw air into her lungs.Monroe watched her without sympathy.“Sit,” he said at last.The word was not loud, but it carried weight—years of conditioning wrapped in a single syllable. Isyra obeyed without thinking, sinking back into Henry’s chair as though her legs no longer trusted her. The seat felt colder now. Larger. Less welcoming.Her father resumed pacing, slow and methodical, like a predator circling prey that was already wounded.“You are thinking with your heart,” Monroe said, voice calm again, almost conversational. “That is your greatest flaw.”Isyra swallowed. “I’m thinking about Henry.”“That is the problem,” he snapped, spinning t