All Chapters of The Hidden Luna: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The future rose around us with a wolf’s patience and a tyrant’s hunger.The black water thickened into roots and moonlight and the sharp silver scent of a pack gone silent under command. What had been only a glimpse a moment before unfolded into a full, terrible vision: a throne grown from living wood and old bone, its arms shaped like antlers, its seat veined with the same red-black light as the stolen heart. I sat upon it in a gown the colour of winter blood, a crown of white branches on my head, and below me Ty knelt with his throat bared as if obedience had become prayer.The sight struck some feral, horrified place inside me hard enough to steal my breath. Not because the future-Sila looked powerful. I had already seen power wearing my face tonight. Not even because the future-Ty looked beautiful kneeling there, broad-shouldered and wild-eyed and utterly fixed on me with the kind of devotion cruel stories mistake for romance. It was because some ugly, frightened part of me unders

Peace, I learned, was never silent.It creaked in healing walls. It lived in hammers striking split timber back into shape, in the low murmur of wolves taking inventory of grain stores and patrol routes and broken furniture, in the clatter of dishes from the kitchens at dawn. It smelled like bread again, woodsmoke again, damp earth after repairs, clean sheets aired in autumn light. After everything the sanctuary had torn open, the pack did what living things do when they survive the impossible. It rebuilt.Three weeks after the mountain nearly swallowed us, Ty and I moved back into the pack house.The decision should have felt simple. The Lancaster house was gone. The old shed was ash and memory. Alpha Cameron and Luna Lea had insisted before I even found the strength to argue, and Ty had gone unnaturally still in that way he did when trying not to push too hard on something he wanted desperately. In the end, I agreed because there was nowhere else I wanted to learn how to live after

The trees gave the stolen voices back one by one, and every single one landed wrong.They came from different distances and different mouths, but they all carried the same flaw: a hair too careful, a breath too late, emotion stitched on top instead of rising from underneath. One called my name in Luna Lea’s bright voice. Another laughed in a young patrol wolf’s familiar bark of amusement. A third used Alpha Cameron’s growl and somehow made it sound empty. Recognition still hit like a blade, even warped. That was the point. These things did not need to fool us perfectly. They only needed one fatal heartbeat of hesitation.“Tell me you hear that too,” I said, my voice low enough not to carry beyond us.Ty did not take his eyes off the thing wearing our sentry’s body. “Unfortunately, yes,” he murmured. “And if one of them uses my voice again, ignore anything sincere too. I’d rather not discover where my charm ends and my emotional range becomes a tactical weakness.”A startled sound almo

The sound of breaking glass hit me harder than the creatures’ stolen voices ever had.Ty and I were moving before the last shards finished falling. The forest blurred around us in a violent rush of trunks, breath, mud, and bond-light instinct. Behind us, the wolf-wearing things crashed through the underbrush in a broken imitation of pack pursuit, too coordinated to be wild and too wrong to be mistaken for our own. The north window. The records. The old ledgers. Whatever they wanted, they wanted the history as much as the blood.“Tell me Alpha Cameron moved the ledgers,” I said, forcing breath past the burn in my lungs.Ty vaulted a fallen log and landed beside me without breaking stride. “Tell me you’ve met Alpha Cameron,” he shot back. “If he was told to rest, he probably doubled the locks and called that recovery.”Even under the terror, a ragged breath of humour escaped me. “You say that like you didn’t learn stubbornness in that house.”“I learned it from him,” Ty said. Then, lowe

The darkness beneath the stairs did not feel empty. It felt expectant.A rush of damp, stale air rose from the opening, carrying the smell of old earth, salt rot, wet wood, and something sharper underneath it all—ink, mildew, and long-hidden history stirred too suddenly awake. The staircase itself was narrow and steep, cut into stone older than the house above it and worn at the centre by feet that had once used it often enough to polish the edges smooth. Whatever the pack house had been built over, it had never been only a home.“Tell me this family has at least one secret passage that leads somewhere harmless,” I said.Ty looked down into the opening as if he personally resented the existence of every hidden stone his bloodline had ever laid. “If it does, my grandfather seems to have skipped documenting it.”Despite the claws in the walls and the stolen laughter still echoing faintly above us, warmth flickered through the bond at his dry tone. “You really do know how to make inherit