The Luna's Tattoos의 모든 챕터: 챕터 131 - 챕터 140

LUCIEN’S POV I crouched at the sewer entrance, my boots sinking into the damp earth, the air thick with the stench of rot and stagnant water. The tunnel yawned ahead, its rusted grate pried open, shadows pooling inside, the faint drip of moisture echoing off the concrete walls. My heart pounded, Olivia’s screams from Alaric’s call replaying in my skull, her voice raw, desperate, tearing at me. Mayor Larry crouched beside me, his gray coat brushing the ground, his breath fogging in the cool night air as we mapped it out—me through the front, him around the back, a plan to snatch her while Alaric focused on me. I nodded, my hand tightening on the knife at my belt, my wolf stirring restless beneath my skin as I slipped inside, the darkness swallowing me whole.The tunnel stretched narrow, my shoulders brushing the slimy walls, my boots splashing through shallow puddles, the water cold against my ankles. Traps glinted ahead, tripwires strung low, their thin metal gleaming faintly, blade

OLIVIA’S POV I woke up to the soft hum of the mansion, the kind of quiet that pressed against my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake. The day I’d been dreading for months. A year had passed since the chaos that left Lucien in a coma, and now the Elders and Council of the Nine Packs expected me to stand before them and choose. Damien or Lucien. A mate for life. My stomach twisted as I rolled out of bed, the hardwood cold against my bare feet. I didn’t want to think about it, but it was all I could think about.I pulled on a simple black sweater and jeans, my hands trembling as I brushed my hair into a messy bun. No point in dressing up for this. It wasn’t a celebration. It was a sentencing. I grabbed my jacket and headed down the hall, my sneakers scuffing the polished floor. Lucien’s room was at the end, where it’d been since they moved him here two months ago. His own mansion, his own prison. I’d made this walk every day, a ritual I couldn’t break.The door creaked as I pushed it o

OLIVIA’S POVI stormed up the stairs, my boots slamming against the wood, the sound echoing in my skull. It’s just the morning of my birthday, and my day was already a disaster. Damien’s voice still rang in my ears, his excuses about Alaric twisting like a knife in my gut. I shoved my bedroom door open, the ancient book from Archimedes clutched tight against my chest. The silver dagger he’d given me sat abandoned downstairs, untouched. I didn’t want it. Didn’t want anything from him.The room smelled like stale air and lavender, the curtains drawn tight against the morning light. I flung the book onto my bed, its leather cover thudding against the mattress, and paced the floor, my hands shaking. How could he? Alaric—his brother, the bastard who’d nearly killed me, who’d stabbed Lucien into a coma—and Damien was still talking to him? Hiding him? After everything? My chest burned, anger and betrayal choking me until I couldn’t breathe.I stopped by the dresser, gripping the edge until m

MAYOR LARRY’S POVI sat in the dim glow of my office, the blinds drawn tight against the world outside. The desk lamp flickered, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered surface—maps, notes, a half-empty bottle of whiskey I hadn’t touched in days. My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the chair, the wood creaking under my fingers. The rage simmered beneath my skin, hot and wild, a beast I couldn’t tame. It had been weeks since that alpha bit me, weeks since I turned into this… thing. A lycan. A monster I’d spent my life hunting.The phone buzzed on the desk, but I ignored it. Another call from my wife, probably, wondering why I hadn’t come home. I couldn’t face her—not like this. Not with the snarls that woke me at night, the claws I couldn’t fully retract, the hunger gnawing at my gut. I’d locked myself away, told her I was working late, chasing leads on Natalie. My sister, Olivia’s mother, who’s been for years, and every dead-end call I’d gotten lately were all negative feed

DAMIEN’S POV I leaned against the hood of my truck, the metal cold under my palms, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The old warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted walls sagging under years of neglect. Alaric had picked this spot—neutral ground, far enough from New Orleans to keep prying eyes away. I checked my phone again, the screen glowing in the dusk. He was late. Typical.Headlights cut through the trees, and I straightened as his beat-up Jeep rolled into the clearing. The engine sputtered to a stop, and he climbed out, his boots crunching gravel. His hair was longer now, tangled and dark, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked like hell, but then again, so did I.“About time,” I said, crossing my arms. “I thought you’d bailed.”“Had to shake a tail,” he replied, his voice low, scanning the tree line. “You alone?”“Yeah,” I said, nodding toward the warehouse. “Let’s get this over with.”We stepped inside, the air stale and heavy with dust. Broken crates littered