All Chapters of Dagger of the Blood Moon: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Liora POVThe ruins spit us out into a fog-choked clearing like a beast coughing up bones, the sudden rush of cold, damp air hitting my face as we stumble through a collapsed archway. My lungs burn from the sprint through the collapsing tunnels, legs trembling from the strain, but the dagger clutched in my hand pulses warm and steady, its ruby glowing faintly against my skin like a living ember. The visions still echo in my skull—Elowen’s fierce howls echoing across ancient mountains, Thorne’s proud voice naming me heir, Elora’s gentle warning about the true mate who would anchor me. The weight of centuries presses on my chest, heavy and exhilarating all at once. Aria is stronger now, no longer a distant whisper but a steady, vibrant rumble, her presence coiling through my veins like liquid fire, clawing closer to the surface with every heartbeat.Kai’s hand is still locked around mine, fingers interlaced, his grip unyielding even as we burst into the open. His ocean-mist scent floods

Liora POVThe journey back to the SUVs are just as merciless and unforgiving, each step a jagged reminder of what we’ve survived…and what still waits ahead. My legs tremble from the fight, muscles screaming with every stride, but I keep moving. The Silver Dagger clutched tight in my hand. Its warmth pulses against my palm, steady and alive, like a second heartbeat synced to mine. The ruby glows faintly, a soft crimson light that cuts through the mist, and every time the light touches my skin, Aria stirs – stronger now, her growl no longer a distant whisper but a deep, resonant force clawing closer to the surface. The suppression serum still holds her back, but the dagger’s power is eroding it, thread by thread.The rogues’ screams still echo in my ears. Their bodies reduced to ash at my feet, the smell of charred fur and silver still lingering. The dagger isn’t just a relic; it’s a weapon, tied to my blood. I glance down at it, the wolf-carved handle fitting my grip perfectly, runes e

Liora POVThe pantry door still swings from Kael and Dax’s chaotic escape, their muffled laughter echoing down the hall, chased by Miss Ophelia’s sharp, fond scolding: “You two think my kitchen’s a love nest? Moon Goddess help me; I’ll tan your hides with this spoon!”I bite back a grin, stirring a pot of simmering beef stew, the rich aroma of herbs and slow-cooked meat wrapping around me like the warmest blanket. The familiar clatter of pots, the crackle of the hearth fire…this is where the world feels small and safe, even after everything.Kai steps through the doorway, and the air shifts. Aria stirs instantly, a low, eager rumble in my chest. He’s still in his training clothes, sleeves rolled to the elbows, dark hair slightly damp from the yard. His grey eyes find me instantly, softening in a way that makes my stomach flip. “Liora,” he says, voice soft but carrying the unmistakable edge of Alpha authority, “you’re not kitchen staff anymore. Your new job is in my office, remember?

Dax POVTonight is our mating ceremony - sealing what the Moon Goddess already wove between us. Kael and me, bound under the waxing moon. Kai’s orders to lift the pack’s spirits after the tension of the last couple of weeks. But my pulse races for her, not duty, claiming her openly, makes Rune howl with a mix of triumph and raw nerves I didn’t know I still had.I’ve spent the morning trying to focus on practical things - ordering supplies for the feast, lanterns, moonstone-beaded braids for the rite, fresh pelts for the dais - but the numbers blur on my computer. My thoughts are tangled in her laugh, her touch, the way she pinned me in the yard last week, her body flush against mine, breath hot on my neck. Enough, I mutter, closing the ledger. I need air, I need her.Outside, the crisp morning air hits me like a slap, laced with pine and the faint metallic tang of steel from yesterday’s drills. But it’s her scent that finds me first—wild honeysuckle, sharp and intoxicating, pulling me

Liora POVThe mating ceremony’s glow lingers like the moon’s own afterimage, the packs laughter and triumphant howls drifting on the cool lake breeze, a living tapestry of joy woven under the waxing silver light that makes the night feel electric, alive. The Blood Moon Pack’s unity hums in the air, warm and fierce, a shield against the shadows that still stalk us. I stand at the water’s edge, bare feet sinking into the damp, cool earth, the lake’s surface a perfect mirror of stars and fractured moonlight. Gentle waves lap at my toes, rhythmic and soothing, but they can’t quite wash away the weight pressing on my chest. The Silver Dagger is tucked in my bag, slung across my shoulder, its ruby hilt pulsing against my hip.The pack’s celebration is a balm after the ruins’ peril, but the weight of my legacy settles heavier with every breath. The moon climbs higher, its silver light bathing the lake in ethereal glow. The dagger’s hum intensifies suddenly, a low vibration that travels up my