All Chapters of Alpha's Shadow, Luna's Fire: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Third Person's POVMeanwhile, it had been raining all day in Caerwyn, the capital city.Dark clouds loomed over the city like decaying hides, and the cold, damp air carried a heavy mix of metal and earth. The atmosphere felt oppressive, like the last breaths of a dying beast.Inside a law firm in the city center, the air was even colder, quieter, and sharper.Amelia's office was lit by harsh, cold white light. The moment the door clicked shut, the sound of the rain outside was cut off, leaving only the suffocating tension that seemed almost palpable.Cassius sat on the sofa, his posture stiff. He wore a deep gray suit, sharply tailored, his hair immaculately styled, and his jawline as clean and sharp as ever.He looked perfect—like an Alpha who had never lost control. As if the man who had collapsed in the ballroom, his mind shattering and nearly brought to his knees by the bond's backlash, had never existed.But scents don't lie. Amelia could smell it—the dark, oppressive Alpha scent

Estelle's POVThe next morning, I woke up early—not because of an alarm, but because the air felt so fresh. There was no trace of him, no oppressive Alpha presence; even my breathing was smooth and effortless, almost unreal.My wolf stirred quietly in the back of my mind, like it had just broken free from a long-held restraint, still adjusting to this newfound freedom.I got up, washed, and dressed. I slipped into a business suit—casual yet sharp, understated but neat. My leather flats barely made a sound against the floor.I tucked the voice recorder into my bag, my finger hovering over the button for a moment before I pressed it. A faint click echoed, like the beginning of a silent hunt.Then I left the hotel.I took a taxi to the factory. The wind rushing through the open window brushed against my cheek, carrying the scent of the sea, mixed with metal, engine oil, and the faint, distant scent of a wolf pack—raw and unrefined.I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes for a brief mo

Estelle's POVDarkness, dampness, and the smell of rotting wood mingled with the salty scent of the sea.My consciousness slowly returned. My head felt heavy, my hands were bound behind my back, and a gag was stuffed in my mouth.I couldn't see, but I could smell him—a strange man, his scent laced with malice, excitement, and a hint of… greed.My wolf stirred, calm yet hungry, its thirst for blood sharpening.Memories began to flood back—an office, an attack, a handkerchief, and then… darkness.I focused on my breathing, steadying myself. No wasted energy, no unnecessary struggles.After all, the quieter the prey, the more relaxed the hunter. And my wolf was patient, waiting for the perfect moment.Footsteps echoed outside the door.With a creak, it opened.A shaft of moonlight sliced through the darkness, illuminating the face of the man who entered. I recognized him immediately.In that instant, my wolf bared its teeth. "Finally."I hadn't expected it to be him—James Calloway, the d

Third Person's POVInside the factory, the air was thick with the scent of rust, machine oil, and tension. In the conference room, a dozen auras intertwined, all filled with restlessness, unease, and wariness—like a pack of wolves trapped in a cage.The door swung open, and in that instant, every aura tensed as if an invisible claw had gripped their throats.Theron walked in. He didn't need to project an aura of intimidation; his mere presence was suffocating. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.The weaker ones instinctively stepped back, their breathing becoming shallow.Cassius followed closely behind. His aura was raw—violent, uncontrolled, like a wolf on the hunt.Theron stopped at the table but didn't sit. His cold gaze swept across the room, as if he were surveying a group of creatures already sentenced to death.He spoke. His voice wasn't loud, yet it made the entire room fall eerily silent. "Have you found her?"No one spoke; even the faintest fluctuations in

Third Person's POVThe tension in the air thickened.Anthea dialed the number, put the call on speaker, and slammed the phone down on the table. No one tried to stop her.Theron stood unmoving, arms crossed, his expression so calm it bordered on cold indifference. He didn't even look her way. It was as though he were watching a play he had anticipated for a long time.The call connected. A deep, steady voice came from the other end, exuding the authoritative air typical of an older Alpha. "Anthea?"It was Dominic Ellington—Theron's father, Chairman of the Kinnell Group.Anthea's voice shifted immediately. Resentment, anger, and suppressed frustration blended together with unsettling precision, like an emotional performance she had perfected over the years.She listed the facts one by one—how Theron had "lost control," how he had "shown favoritism," and how he had disrupted the order of things for the sake of a woman.Her tone deepened with every word, as if she were etching a verdict