All Chapters of His Mate, But Not His Luna: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Author’s POVThe throne room had been arranged like a stage for submission.Isyra sat in the Luna’s chair, spine straight, chin lifted, fingers resting too confidently on the carved armrests. The chair stood three steps above the floor, elevated deliberately, a silent declaration that she believed the pack had already accepted her claim.Below her, the elders stood in a loose semicircle.Not seated.Waiting.Some shifted their weight from foot to foot. Some clasped their hands behind their backs. A few avoided looking at the chair entirely, eyes fixed on the floor as if the stone might swallow them whole if they stared too long.Elder Monroe stood closest to the steps, positioned just slightly behind Isyra’s right shoulder. His posture was rigid, his face calm, his eyes sharp and calculating. He looked like a man who believed control was already secured—like all that remained was formal acknowledgment.Isyra inhaled, preparing to speak.The doors exploded open.The sound cracked throu

Author’s POVPower did not vanish simply because an Alpha lay unconscious.It shifted.It tested.And when it found weakness, it spread like rot.Harlow understood this better than anyone.That was why he did not allow the pack to breathe after Isyra’s fall from grace. He did not permit the elders to regroup, to rewrite their loyalties, or to pretend they had merely been swept along by events beyond their control. He did not soften his voice or temper his orders with comfort.The moment he stepped out of Henry’s sickroom, he began to cut.Cleanly.Decisively.Without mercy.The throne room was emptied within the hour.No formal council. No ritual summons. No opportunity for speeches or excuses.Only judgment.Bellona was brought in first.She no longer wore authority like armor. Her steps faltered. Her face was swollen and blotched, eyes red-rimmed, hair half unbound as though she had been dragged from wherever she’d been hiding. The guards escorting her—guards who had once answered t

Author’s POVThe words hung in the air like a blade suspended above all their heads.For a long moment, Henry simply stared at Harlow.Then he laughed.It wasn’t amused laughter. It was sharp and filled with disbelief. The kind of laugh a man gives when someone tells him the most ridiculous lie imaginable.“My wolf?” Henry repeated slowly. “Rejected Isyra?”Harlow did not laugh with him. Neither did Apollo.Henry’s smile faded when he realized neither man found the statement humorous.“That’s impossible,” Henry said flatly.Apollo folded his arms inside his sleeves, studying him carefully. “It happened.”“No,” Henry said again, more firmly this time. “My wolf would never do that.”He swung his legs over the side of the bed as if the matter were already settled.“My wolf and I chose Isyra together.”“Henry—”“No.” Henry raised a hand, cutting Harlow off. “You’re both mistaken.”Harlow’s jaw tightened.“You don’t understand,” Henry continued, shaking his head. “My wolf loves her.”Apoll

Author’s POVMorning came quietly to the Alpha’s chambers.Soft golden light slipped through the tall windows and spilled across the wide bed where Henry lay awake, staring at the ceiling.For several moments he did not move. His mind lingered in that strange place between sleep and awareness, trying to determine if what had happened the previous night had truly been real.He inhaled slowly.Isyra’s floral scent that he loved so much surrounded him.Her arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, her body pressed against his side as though she feared he might disappear the moment she loosened her hold. Even in sleep she clung to him. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, gripping it as though it were the only thing anchoring her to the world.Henry turned his head slightly and looked down at her.Her dark hair spilled across the pillow and over his shoulder, strands tangled from sleep. Her face was relaxed now, free from the panic and tears she had shown the night before. In

Author’s POVHenry’s roar still echoed faintly through the office.The scattered documents lay across the desk like the aftermath of a storm. Inked pages overlapped each other in disorder, some crumpled under the pressure of Henry’s hands.For several long seconds neither man spoke.Henry stood behind his desk, chest rising and falling as he fought to steady his breathing. The veins in his temples pulsed visibly. His eyes remained fixed on the letters spread before him as though the words might rearrange themselves if he stared hard enough.Harlow had not moved from where he stood near the corner desk. He watched Henry quietly. Henry finally lifted his head. “Start talking.”The words were low and controlled but there was a sharp edge beneath them that Harlow had learned long ago not to ignore.Harlow pushed himself away from the corner desk and crossed the room slowly.“You ran to my door in the middle of the night,” he said. “There was blood everywhere. You barely managed to stay u