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Chapter 302
Last Updated:
2025-01-12 23:08:22
Collins Patrick Thank you for reading❤️
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The crescent moon hangs alone in the dark sky, barely illuminating the night, there are no stars shining up there tonight. The moon seems to be on a solo mission, just like Leila. She wades through the thick bark of the huge and clustered trees that lead deep into the forest at the border, her heart beating fast and for good reason. Nervous would be an understatement to how she feels at the moment. Anything could happen and no one knows where she is. She winces as a thorn slices through her skin and she clasps her hand over the wound, undeterred as she continues to push further into the thick of the forest. She must reach outside the pack territory. It is dangerous, she knows but she needs some answers and right now, only Tatiana can help her and that is if Tatiana is still on their side. The only hope she has with Tatiana is the belief that Tatiana loves Kelvin, Tatiana proved that a number of times, she has to give Tatiana the benefit of the doubt. She has to. [I’m here.]
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“They sent seven of us to take down this puny thing? I feel insulted,” one of the rogues say, spitting on the floor, his eyes raking over Leila with disgust. “Who are you? Who sent you?” Leila asks in a cold voice, baring her teeth, extending her claws and turning side to side to keep them all in her vision as they encircle her. Her heart is erratic but she already knows there’s no need to be scared, it won’t help her if she is to survive this. She will somehow have to take them down by herself and if they sense any fear coming from her, they will capitalize. “Look,” Another one smiles sinisterly at her, “you’re a very beautiful woman and I’d hate to cause any damage to that pretty face of yours, so just cooperate and come with us.” “You’re right about her being pretty,” another one chuckles, stepping towards her, “if she’s a good girl, we can have her warm our cocks, we can take turns or even run a train on her,” he chuckles maniacally and his pals join in his laughter. Leila’s
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“And who the fuck are you?” The one who is still in his human form asks coldly, turning to face Tatum. The remaining six of them ignore Leila for the moment, lining up beside the one who is speaking, to intimidate Tatum with their numbers, snarling and seething. “I’m not going to ask you again, who the fuck are you and why do you— want to die a needless death?” the guy asks again and he and the pack beside him advance towards Tatum slowly. Leila watches helplessly on the floor in her wolf form, her heart pounding hard with fear for Tatum. She sees how Tatum ignores whatever the man is saying and is not even intimidated by their numbers or threat, his eyes are just fixed on her, looking at her with much concern. He doesn’t see or talk to her for several days and now he shows up to be her hero. She should be mad at him but she’s not, she always seem to get herself in trouble and he’s always there to rescue her. “Hang in there, I’ll handle this,” he says to her, cracking his knuckle
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What has he been doing? Is he being tortured? Is that why he hasn’t been talking to her? Worry rises inside her and she cannot hold it down. She needs to know what is going on. He’s definitely keeping secrets from her again and she feels sad about it. She thought they were growing past that stage, but obviously not. Isn’t she jumping into conclusions here? She’s just going to ask him. Her wolf nudges Tatum with her nose as she tries to mindlink him but she cannot reach him, which is strange because he’s right in front of her. Her wolf nudges him even harder, feeling offended he is blocking them off but Tatum lays his hand on her head and rubs it gently, “I know it hurts, I’m almost done.” Leila instantly realises it, he’s not blocking her, he seems unable to mindlink but how? Is something wrong with his wolf? Even when she lost her wolf back then, she was still able to mindlink. She shifts back into her human form, determined to find out what’s going on with him. “Whoa….” Ta
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Leila slowly rips the remaining pieces of clothing that still covers Tatum’s body after a while and she sees even more scars littered around his chest and abdomen as well. Her heart aches for him and she slowly runs her hands across the wounds, some of which have still not healed fully. She looks at him and he smiles weakly at her. “It’s nothing,” he says in a calm voice, telling her the story of all that he had suffered at the hands of Trent, all in the name of training. With every detail that he paints, Leila’s fear and worry for him continue to grow, her heart throbs slightly and tears stream down her eyes. How is he still even here when he has to fight so many wolves in a day, all while being poisoned by wolfsbane and tortured by silver? She knows Tatum is strong but hearing the ordeal he has to go through everyday and seeing how he took down eight royal guards a few minutes tells how just how strong he must really be. As much as she wants to feel a sense of pride and admira
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Tatum doesn’t stop her from crying, he lets her cry in his arms and he gently rubs her back. “I’m fine, there’s really nothing to worry about,” he says but his words only make Leila worry the most. She moves her head slowly from his chest and looks up into his eyes, Tatum smiles at her but behind it she can see so much hidden. Sadness and worry being the two most prevalent. Why is Tatum staying back here and enduring all needless pain and torture? The thought of what he has endured makes her shudder and she buries her head in his chest again. Her heart feels so heavy and she wishes she can help him bear some of this burden. Even if Tatum doesn’t want to go on the assassination ordered by Antonio, he can leave the pack and go somewhere else instead of allowing that scoundrel, Trent torture and humiliate him like this. And the Tatum she knows is no coward, she knows there’s no way he’s scared of Alpha Leo, so why hasn’t he gone and done it so this whole thing can be over with? Is
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“Those damn fucking royal guards,” Leila spews out the words in anger, wincing as she applies the herbal tincture Tatum had given to her to the wound. It’s been three days and she hasn’t yet healed fully but the wound isn’t the thing that bothers her the most. She hasn’t seen Tatum in two days and even if she doesn’t know exactly where he is, she knows exactly what he is going through and her heart aches for him. She heaves a deep sad sigh, her sullen eyes stare at the portrait of her and Amara in her room and it only amplifies sadness. She wonders how her daughter is faring at the North Star pack. She can only hope that she is doing well. She has to keep communication to a minimum to protect her. She grunts in pain of frustration. She cannot wait for all of this to be over. If only there was something she could do to help Tatum. Well…there is something she can actually do but Tatum won’t let her choose that, for some reason. “Leila, you in here?” Her mom pops her head into her
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As Leila drives home, all she can think about is her conversation with Tatum’s parents. Becoming Tatum’s wife again. She doesn’t even know how to feel about it.Yes, she knows her old feelings for him have aroused, perhaps with some new ones but if she has learnt any lesson from her past experience, it’s that feelings are never enough.She knows that she and Tatum have missed each other’s company, each other’s bodies, touches and all of that and right now, their nerves may be hot but what happens if she gets married to him and in a few months, everything dies down.As much as she is getting crazy about him with each passing day, that insanity is not enough for her to just jump and make such an important decision.She is scared.There is a large part of her that welcomes this idea of being Tatum’s wife again. The goddess knows that it gladdens her heart and fills it with warmth but there’s no ignoring that tiny yet solid and potent part of that same heart that nibbles persistently at
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The palace glows under the Blood Moon, its light bathes the open-air pavilion where the ceremony unfolds in an ashen hue. It's a few months after the twins’ birth, and Tatum and Leila are hosting the sacred rite for mateless wolves to seek their fated bonds. Flames from torches dance, casting shadows on tables laden with roasted boar, honeyed fruits, and spiced wine. Wolves from every pack fraternize, their laughter and murmurs braid with the pulse of drums and fiddles. The air twinges with anticipation—some are here to seek love, others quest for destiny, all drawn by the moon’s primal pull. Banners of silver and red flutter above, embroidered with crescent moons, and the scent of pine and wildflowers lingers, a tribute to the wild heart of the kingdom. Amara perches on a stone bench near the dance floor, her eyes bright with mischief. Beside her, Amanda leans in, her auburn curls bouncing as she points at a Luna in a garish yellow gown. “Look at that,” Amanda whispers, smi
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It is four years after the coronation, the palace murmurs with life, its stone corridors softened by laughter and sunlight. The scars of Antonio’s cruel reign has faded, replaced by scenic blooms of oaks and phoenix flames. In a sunlit hallway, Amara, now ten, sprints after a giggling three-year-old boy, her dark hair bouncing in a loose braid. The boy, Kael, is Kelvin and Tatiana’s son, visiting for the holiday with his parents. His tiny legs pump furiously, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he dodges Amara’s outstretched hands.“Get back here, you little tornado!” Amara calls, her voice equal parts exasperation and amusement. Kael squeals, darting around a corner, his curls bouncing. He’s fast for his age, but Amara’s longer strides close the gap. She lunges, and scoops him up before he dives into one of the many hiding places in the house behind a groove in the wall. Amara tosses him into the air with a flourish. Kael shrieks with delight, arms wide open like a bird, the
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The palace of lies quiet, the firebrands dimmed after the coronation’s fervor the night before. Moonlight spills through the arched windows of the royal chambers, bathing the room in silver. A fire that's been running now smolders in the hearth, casting shadows that dance across the cloistered room. The revelry—cheers, music, oaths—has faded, leaving only Leila and Tatum, alone at last.Leila stands by the window, her sapphire gown replaced by a simple linen nightwear that flatters her generous hips and ample bosom, her hair loose in dark waves. The weight of the crown lingers, though it rests on a velvet cushion across the room. She gazes at the stars, their light a reminder of battles they've won and promises yet to keep. Tatum approaches her, his footsteps soft on the rug. He’s shed his regal mantle, wearing only a loose tunic and trousers, his silver-gray eyes warm in the firelight.“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice a mere whisper as he wraps his arms around her from behind.
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The great hall of the palace is agog with a celebration. The marble pillars draped in banners of silver and gold. Weeks after Antonio’s fall, the kingdom gathers for a coronation. The air is alive with hope. Crystal chandeliers cast prisms across the mosaic floor, where roses—white for peace, red for sacrifice—form a path to the twin thrones. Nobles in velvet and commoners in their finest pack the hall, their faces bright with belief in a future minus Antonio and his tyranny. Musicians weave an orchestra of harps and flutes, and incense curls upward from holders, sweet and solemn. Today, Tatum and Leila are crowned regent king and queen, stewards of the throne until Amara, the destined Lycan Queen, comes of age. Leila stands radiant in a gown of sapphire silk, her dark hair woven with pearls, and the Phoenix Luna’s aura is a faint shimmer around her where she stands beside her husband. Tatum wears a mantle of black and silver, his presence steady as stone. Amara who is clad
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The crowd's cries for Antonio’s death is a deafening roar. But Antonio rises, his crown askew, tilting to the side, a parody of its glory, his lycan blood burning in his veins. His eyes are wild with defiance, locked onto Tatum. “Enough!” he bellows, silencing the throng. “I demand a wolf duel, one on one, Tatum. To the death.” His voice tremors with menace. “If I win, you, Leila, Amara—all rebels—will die for treason. If I lose, well…” He smirks, baring bone-white, elongated canines. “I won’t.”As a lycan, Antonio towers even in human form, his bulging muscles are a testament to his legendary strength, his wolf form a beast of nightmare. The duel will favor him, for he is a predator born to crush his enemies with every fatal blow he delivers. Leo steps forward, knuckles clenched to cracking whiteness. “No,” he growls. “He’s cornered. We outnumber him, and without his magic, he’s done. Let’s end this now.” Ragna nods in agreement, the scars gleam on his knuckles, ready to charge o
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The plaza hums with apprehension, both of the crowd and those of the faction that now rises against Antonio's tyranny. Alpha Leo’s words hang in the air, a challenge to King Antonio’s reign. The king’s face darkens, his crown glinting like a warning as everyone watches. “You dare betray me?” he snarls, turning to the other Alphas—towering figures clad in furs and steel, their eyes gleaming with lupine intensity. “You dare to defy me?” The crowd quiets, the air tight with impending violence. Antonio struts, eyes like firebrands, his shoes picking off prints from the blood left by Camela earlier. “Alphas, end Leo and Tatum. Now!” he commands again. Stillness descends in the crowd. But the Alphas—Ragna, Soren, and Veyra—stand unmoved, their faces look like they're carved from stone. Ragna, broadest of the three, steps beside Leo, his voice a low growl. “No, Antonio. Your tyranny ends here.” Soren and Veyra nod, their silence louder than any shout. The crowd murmurs, shock rip
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The fall of Carmela lingers but a new dread takes root as Leila rushes through the crowd, hurling herself towards the stage where Amara stands, her small frame dwarfed by that of Antonio. Tatum follows behind her, his face red with fury, his eyes shot with pumping membranes. The crowd parts, clearing the way for the couple as sparks of whispers trail them. “Antonio!” Leila’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a blade. “You cannot marry our daughter!” Behind them, a flurry of murmurings animate the crowd, speculations fly, questions too. Tatum steps forward as guards inch around the king. “She's not yours to claim,” Tatum barks, “And you know why.” Antonio's eyes narrow with piercing sharpness at the couple. He knows. Leila feels it in her bones. He now knows. She is the Phoenix Luna. Amara, their daughter, carries the same fire, destined to rise as the kingdom’s next ruler. By binding her to him, Antonio seeks to snuff that destiny, to chain the Phoenix’s lineage to h
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The Grand plaza glitters under the midday sun as Carmela steps out of a silken pavilion, a gorgeous sight that hushes even the worst cynics. Her gown, woven of lace and pearls and sequins, clings to her frame, before fanning into a train that drifts like mist behind her. A diamond studded veil shimmers over her face, and gold threads gleam in her hair. Arches swathed in white silk and roses tower over the wedding altar, where dozens of blossoms—crimson, ivory, gold—spill and waver like a fragrant tide, matching Carmela’s aura. The event that has had everyone wagging their tongues wagging across the kingdom for months is finally here. Cheers and applause erupt from the crowd as she glides with a queen's grace across the raised stage. As she floats down the steps, whispers trail her—some name her divine, the chosen queen. “Look at her,” Leila muses loud enough for Tatum to hear. “If I never saw a snake in a dress. I do now.” “Apt,” Tatum says through a smile as painful as Leila's
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“No he’s not,” Leila snarls at him, her heart burning with rage, her eyes clothed with vengeance, “whatever you have done to him, undo it, now!” “Done to him? I said Tatum’s dead woman, nothing can be done to a dead man. This one here is just my faithful loyal guard dog,” Leo snaps his fingers twice and the man walks over to his side, silent and submissive. Leila’s heart boils with a fervent anger. She knows deep down in her heart that this is her husband, the man she has loved for years. Is he now completely under Leo’s control? Why is everything about him transformed with the exception of his face and voice and if he really is completely under Leo’s influence, then why did he save her, not once but twice. “Tatum, you’re not his dog,” tears stream out of Leila’s eyes, her heart clenching with unimaginable pain. “You’re the most powerful Alpha in the realm, Alpha of the Blood Oak pack, my Alpha, my husband…do you really not recognize your sweet pea anymore?” The man’s eyes snap to
