Semua Bab The Luna's Tattoos: Bab 101 - Bab 110

DAIKI’S POVI stood in the clearing, the night pressing close, my boots sinking into the damp earth as Damien cradled Olivia’s limp form against his chest. Her blood stained his shirt, dark and slick, her breaths shallow, barely there. Lucien knelt beside her, his hands trembling, his face pale under the moonlight filtering through the trees. Her voice—weak, broken—echoed in my skull: “I was kidnapped.” Then nothing, her eyes fluttering shut, her body giving out. Damien’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking to me, sharp and silent, a storm brewing behind it. I caught it—the look, that flicker in his eyes, the tilt of his head. We’d been tight for years, alpha and second, reading each other without words. He didn’t need to say it—I knew. Survey the woods, find the bastard who did this.I shifted my weight, my eyes dropping to her shoulder, the wound oozing, the faint metallic tang of silver stinging my nose. Silver bullets—rare as hell in New Orleans, a weapon no local wolf would dare use

DAMIEN’S POV I crouched by the bed, my elbows digging into my knees, my hands clasped tight, staring at Olivia’s still form under the sheets. Her breathing steadied, soft and slow, the bandages on her shoulder stark white against her skin. The room hung heavy with antiseptic and tension, the moonlight cutting sharp angles across the floor. Lucien sat slumped against the bed frame, his shirt wrinkled, his hair a mess from raking his hands through it. His eyes flicked to me, sharp and probing, after that mess with Zephyr—his growl still echoed in my ears, his claws too close for comfort. I’d calmed him, held him until he broke free of that Lycan haze, and now he waited, the question burning in his gaze.“Which family member?” he asked, his voice low, rough, cutting through the quiet like a blade. He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his brows knitting tight. “I thought you killed them all—every Fallenstar, that night you killed your kin. Everyone thinks they’re gone.”I stood,

BEN’S POVI gripped the steering wheel tight, my knuckles whitening, the engine humming low as the truck barreled down the winding road toward Damien’s place. The morning sun barely peeked over the pines, casting long shadows across the asphalt, the air crisp through the cracked window. Alpha Aaron sat beside me, his jaw set, his hands clenched on his knees, his robe swapped for jeans and a flannel shirt, the scent of coffee still clinging to him. His eyes stared ahead, unblinking, worry carving deep lines into his face. Olivia, his daughter and my best friend was hurt, maybe dying, and the miles between the Black Territory and Damien’s isolated Fallenstar land stretched endless, taunting us.My mind drifted, rewinding to hours ago, the phone buzzing sharp against my nightstand. I’d jolted awake, my arm slung over Aslaug’s waist, her blonde hair tangled across the pillow, her warmth pressed against me. The screen glowed—Lucien’s name—and I’d fumbled it to my ear, my voice thick with s

DAMIEN’S POVI stood in the clearing, the late afternoon sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the trampled grass of my backyard. Sweat beaded my neck, my shirt clinging damp to my chest, my boots scuffing the dirt as I circled Lucien. His suit jacket lay crumpled on a stump, his sleeves rolled up, his dark hair slick with effort, his breaths heaving sharp. Two weeks had passed since Olivia’s escape from Alaric, two weeks of hunting my brother, two weeks of forging this uneasy pact with Lucien. He’d thrown his money and muscle into tracking Alaric, and I’d taken on taming his Lycan, Zephyr. The air crackled with tension, our wolves prowling just under our skins, the stakes higher than ever.“Focus,” I growled, my fists raised, my eyes locked on his. “Feel Maximus, your alpha wolf. Pull him up, let him anchor you.”Lucien nodded, his jaw clenching, his hands flexing as he squared his stance. His eyes flickered amber, then gold, Zephyr’s wild edge warring with Maximus’s steady c

OLIVIA’S POVI woke to the faint glow of dawn seeping through the curtains, the room quiet except for the soft creak of the house settling. My shoulder ached, a dull throb beneath the healed scar, a reminder of that night two weeks back—claws, a rag, a silver bullet, and a fight I barely remembered. I rolled out of bed, my bare feet brushing the cool hardwood, my tank top clinging to my skin, my shorts rumpled from restless sleep. Damien’s place had become my cage since then—no more shuffling between him and Lucien, no more nights at Moonblood. They’d locked me here, their worry a chain I couldn’t shake, and I hated it.I padded downstairs, my hand trailing the banister, my mind churning. Two weeks, and still no answers—who’d grabbed me, who’d shot me, who’d wanted me broken? I’d asked Damien, his jaw tight, his eyes dodging mine—*“We’re still looking, Liv—don’t know yet.”* Lucien, too, his voice smooth but hollow—*“Haven’t figured it out, love—give us time.”* It rang false, a lie too