Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Ruthless Alpha’s Omega Luna: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

I was jerked from fitful sleep by the metallic scrape of my cell door opening. Elder Stone stood framed in the doorway, two guards flanking her like obedient dogs. The burgundy of her suit looked almost black in the dim light, like dried blood. My head still pounded from the wolfsbane, and my limbs felt heavy as waterlogged wood. In the back of my mind, Nyx whimpered, her presence faint as a dying ember. “Good morning, my dear,” Elder Stone says, her voice carrying that same false warmth that makes my skin crawl. “Today’s the day we rid you of that pesky bond.” My stomach drops, ice flooding my veins. I scramble backward until my spine hits the concrete wall, chains rattling between my raw wrists. “No,” I manage, my voice cracking from disuse and thirst. “You can’t do this.” ‘Fight,’ Nyx whispers weakly in my mind. ‘Must fight.’ Elder Stone smiles, the expression never reaching her cold amber eyes. “I assure you, we can. And we will.

I drive my paws into the earth, muscles burning with every powerful stride. The forest blurs around me. Trees become obstacles to navigate at breakneck speed. My lungs work like bellows, dragging in pine, earth, water, and the faintest trace of my mate on the wind. She is there, somewhere ahead, in pain. The knowledge drives me faster than I have ever run, pushing my body beyond what even an Alpha wolf should endure. Behind me, my pack struggles to match my pace. Their determination is strong, but their bodies lack my rage-fuelled strength.‘Slower,’ Zane cautions in our shared mind. ‘The trackers can’t keep up.’I ignore him, surging forward with another burst of speed. The smaller wolf inside me can worry about pack and strategy. I care only for one thing: finding my mate.‘Conri,’ Vance’s voice filters through the mind-link. ‘We’re maintaining course along the eastern approach. No sign of Council patrols yet.’‘Southern team crossing the old logging road,’ James r

The forest blurs around me as I push harder, five miles from the first checkpoint with my team fanning out behind me. Sophia’s presence in my mind has grown stronger in the last hour. It is a good sign, though it comes with flashes of pain that make Conri snarl and snap inside my skull. ‘Closer,’ I tell her through our bond, though I do not know if she can hear me. ‘We’re coming, little wolf. Hold on.’ The plan is solid: wait for dusk, then hit all three checkpoints at once. But then her voice crashes into my mind, desperate and clear despite the wolfsbane I know is in her system. ‘ZANE!’Conri falters mid-stride, nearly sending us crashing into a tree. ‘She’s there!’ he growls, renewing our pace with savage determination. ‘Close. Can feel her!’We cover another half mile when it hits: pain unlike anything I have experienced in more than a century of life. My legs buckle beneath me, sending Conri’s massive frame tumbling to the forest floor with a howl that splits the air. I

Cold air hits my face first. Then sound filters in, muffled, like I am underwater and someone is shouting from above the surface. The world tilts and rocks with each step. I am being carried, slung over someone’s shoulder like a sack of grain. My head lolls forward, hair hanging in my face, but I cannot lift it. I cannot move at all.My wrists hurt. Silver cuffs. The wolfsbane still burns, but it is dull now, distant, like the pain belongs to someone else. I smell antiseptic, concrete, and, underneath it all, fear. My fear, probably. Or maybe it is the general stink of a place where bad things happen regularly.“All personnel to the eastern exit immediately,” Elder Stone’s voice cuts through the fog. She sounds different: clipped, urgent, the grandmotherly façade completely gone. “The building is compromised. Secure all sensitive materials and evacuate according to protocol.”I force my eyes open a crack. The corridor rushes past below me, polished stone giving way to concrete, then t

The car stops. The engine cuts off. Silence follows, broken only by cooling metal ticking and Elder Stone gathering her things. My body is still a stranger to me: limp, unresponsive, a meat sack being hauled from one nightmare to the next.The door opens. Cold air rushes in, carrying a different chill from Ground Zero’s clinical freeze. This is deeper, older, mineral cold seeping from stone walls that have stood for centuries. I smell woodsmoke. Tallow candles. Underneath it all sits the thick, oppressive musk of an alpha who has held this ground for decades.Byron Silverwood. His scent is everywhere, layered into the very fabric of the building.Hands grab me. I am lifted, carried. My head lolls against someone’s shoulder, giving me an upside-down view of stone floors, dark timber panelling, and mounted pelts on the walls. The pack house. Silver Lake. I am here.Voices. Elder Stone’s, crisp and professional. Another follows, lower and measured,