Todos os capítulos de Curse of the Moon's Bride : Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Morning sunlight spilled across the bed in thin golden lines when I opened my eyes.For one disoriented second, I expected shouting. Alarms. Another scout bursting through the doors with blood on his clothes.Instead – only silence.Quiet, steady silence.I stared at the ceiling, letting my breathing slow. The carved wolf rested on the windowsill, washed pale gold by the early light. Sometime during the night, I must have set it there after falling asleep with it in my hand.Kael's side of the bed was empty. Cold.I pushed myself upright carefully. My arm protested – a dull ache pulling along the healing cut. Beneath the bandages, the gold stirred faintly. Warm but calm. Resting.Outside my room, the pack house felt subdued.Not mournful. Just tired.Wolves sat in small groups around the hall, eating quietly or speaking in low voices. The scrape of spoons against bowls echoed louder than usual. Every movement seemed gentler – as if everyone had remembered how fragile things could beco

I woke with something hard pressed against my palm.For one disoriented second, I thought it was a knife.Then I blinked against the pale morning light and loosened my fingers. The small carved wolf rested there – edges worn smooth, wood warm from my grip.I must have fallen asleep holding it after the ceremony.Last night returned slowly. Music echoing through the pack house. Laughter spilling into the halls. Refugees smiling like they finally believed they belonged somewhere.For the first time in a long time, the house had felt full instead of haunted.Now it was quiet. Not empty quiet. Resting quiet.I pushed myself upright and stretched. My muscles still ached from too little sleep, but underneath it was something lighter. Relief.Outside my window, early morning mist clung to the trees. Somewhere downstairs, dishes clinked softly.Life continuing.I tucked the carved wolf into my pocket and headed down.---The main hall looked like the aftermath of a celebration.Strips of clot

The clearing smelled like blood and crushed leaves.Wolves moved through the aftermath quietly, carrying bodies toward the wagons. No one spoke louder than necessary. Even the forest seemed subdued now, as if the fight had poisoned the air.I stood apart, staring at the dark foam staining the ground where the hooded wolf had died.Poison. He'd chosen death over betrayal.That thought unsettled me more than the attack itself.A boot crunched behind me.Kael stopped beside me, wiping blood from his hands. A shallow cut sliced across his knuckles, already healing."We got nothing from the others," he said grimly. "The ones still alive won't talk."I folded my arms against the cold creeping under my skin."Someone closer," I murmured again.The words wouldn't leave my head. Not Veyra. Someone else. Someone closer.Who?Kael followed my gaze toward the stained leaves.Drakon approached, looking exhausted. Dirt streaked his face. There was something hollow in his eyes."My father's inner ci

Morning light barely touched the windows when we gathered in Kael's study.The suspect list lay open on the table. Darin and Micah circled at the top. Grey leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Rina stood near the door, already armed."We split up," Kael said. "Grey, you watch Darin. Rina, Micah. Selene and I coordinate."Grey nodded. "And if they notice us?""Then we change tactics," Selene said. "But we need to see who they contact.""We'll be shadows," Grey replied.Kael turned to me. "You'll stay close to Elara. She might be a target – or she might know more than she's saying."Unease prickled through me, but I agreed.---Darin moved through his morning like any other wolf.Breakfast. Training. A few quiet words with the other refugees.Grey followed at a distance, patient as stone. Hours passed. Nothing seemed out of place.Then Darin slipped away from the training yard.Grey's signal came sharp and low. Selene and Kael converged from different angles, silent as the shadows we

The cells beneath the pack house were colder in the morning.Moisture clung to the stone walls. The narrow corridor smelled of rust and damp earth. Torches flickered weakly in their brackets, throwing long shadows across the floor as I descended the stairs.Nyra sat exactly where I'd left her the night before.Back against the wall. Wrists bound. Expression unreadable.For a moment, I just watched her through the bars.Most prisoners changed after a night in the cells. Fear crept in. Exhaustion wore down anger.Not Nyra. She looked almost untouched."You're wasting your time," she said without lifting her head. "I won't betray him."I crossed my arms. "The Shadow is dead."That finally made her glance up."You're betraying no one," I continued. "Just yourself."Something flickered in her eyes – small, gone quickly. But I saw it. Pain. Or doubt. Maybe both."You don't understand," she murmured.I crouched near the bars. "Then make me understand."Above us, I heard the pack house waking