All Chapters of Dagger of the Blood Moon: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Leila POVDreams come vivid that night – running through misty woods, moonlight slicing through the canopy like silver blades, a man’s voice booming commands that echo with authority and grief. A beta’s face twisting in regret as he raises a gun, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “For your own good, Liora,” he says, voice breaking, and the crack of gunfire splits the night, silver bullets tearing through my flesh, burning like liquid fire, binding my wolf in chains I can’t see.I wake up gasping, sheets tangled around my legs, sweat cooling on my skin. My heart pounds against my ribs like a trapped animal, and I reach instinctively for Aria, searching for a presence. Nothing.The name Liora echoes in my mind like a heartbeat that isn’t mine, and Kael’s words from Kai’s retelling burn brighter – the lost heir, silver-proof blood. I can’t just lie here staring at the ceiling. I need answers, or at least a glimpse of the rogue who seems to know more about my past than I do.The pac

Dax POVKael’s scent is a relentless ghost, wild honeysuckle and crackling lightning that clings to my senses, cutting through the Alpha’s office where the air hums with ink, stale coffee, and the faint copper tang of blood lingering from the packhouse halls after the rogue attack. Rune, my wolf, is a relentless storm inside me, clawing at my ribs, howling Mate! with a primal urgency that makes my pulse pounding, my fists clenching against the desk’s edge. She’s a rogue—a rogue who tore into our borders with silver-tipped claws—and yet Rune doesn’t care, his need to free her warring with my Beta loyalty to Kai and the pack. I slip away from the office, Leila’s coffee tray a fleeting distraction as she fusses with files. The steel tray in my hands – crusty bread, venison stew, a bruised apple – feels heavier than it should, a flimsy excuse to face Kael in the cells below, where the damp stone stairs spiral into a familiar abyss.The cellblock is a cold, shadowed maw, its air thick wit

Kai POVAtlas is clawing at my control, a savage storm raging beneath my skin, howling to punish Elvira for that slap - the vivid image of Leila’s porcelain cheek blooming red under her palm burning in my mind like a white-hot brand. Those hazel eyes of hers, wide with shock yet blazing with quiet defiance, stir something primal and fierce in me, a protectiveness that roars through my veins and makes my blood thunder. Elvira’s pushing boundaries she has no right to cross, her malice toward Leila escalating into something venomous and unforgivable. That slap was a line crossed in blood, and every instinct screams to drag her before the pack, to strip her of status and make her pay.But I can’t. Not yet. Her pregnancy, even though something feels off. Her insistent claim that the pup is mine – forces a restraint that chains me tighter than any silver cuffs ever could. Duty wars with fury, the Alpha demanding justice while the man hesitates, trapped by the possibility of innocent life. W

"Okay. First of all, the math is not mathing," Fia started, pacing a tight circle on the stone floor. "You said you survived the Black Plague, which implies you used to be human then. But you also said you are eight hundred and forty-two. The plague was in the 1300s. If you were mortal then, you’d only be like seven hundred. Plus, you and Silas are brothers because you were sired by the same guy. How can you be a pureblood origin point if you were turned? That sounds like false advertising."Alarick’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement. "A valid deduction, though your timeline is slightly skewed. I did not mean I survived the plague as a mortal, Fiona. I was already a vampire approaching my second century when it swept through Europe. I was turned in the twelfth century, when I was thirty-two.""Okay, so you were a thirty-two-year-old general who got vamped," Fia nodded rapidly, trying to process the lore. "But how does that make you the pureblood? Did your Sire just fl

Leila POVThe next morning, we set out at dawn, two black SUVs slicing through the misty forests toward the Council Territory. Kai drives the lead vehicle, his strong hands steady on the wheel, his scent filling the cabin and easing the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I sit beside him in the passenger seat, stealing glances at his sharp profile, the faint tension in his jaw betraying how seriously he’s taking this. In the back, Dax stares out the window in heavy silence, his usual easy humour buries under the weight of Rune’s relentless pull. Kael rides in the second SUV under guard – still prisoner, technically, but “an asset,” as Kai argued last night. I saw the way Dax’s eyes tracked her when she was loaded in, conflicted yet inescapably tethered.Council Territory unfolds like a forgotten legend: rolling hills dotted with stone markers etched with lunar runes that pulse faintly under the rising sun. The oracle’s grove nestles deep in a shadowed valley; a sacred circle of gnarled oa