All Chapters of His Mate, But Not His Luna: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

178 Chapters

Henry is cheating?

Author’s POVMorning crept into the pack house with an unease that refused to lift.The sun rose, as it always did, casting pale light through the tall windows of the throne room, but it did nothing to chase away the heaviness that had settled over the stone walls. The pack moved in hushed currents, servants lowering their voices, guards standing a little straighter than usual, eyes sharp with questions they dared not ask.The elders had already gathered.They sat in a wide semicircle beneath the carved symbols of the Moon Goddess, their faces grim, lined with concern and calculation. Power did not disappear simply because an Alpha lay unconscious—it shifted, trembled, tested its weakest points.Henry lay in a guest chamber down the hall, unmoving.And that fact alone was enough to threaten the stability of the entire pack.He had not been attacked from outside.That much was certain.The guards had combed the grounds through the night and into the early hours of dawn. No intruders. N

Wolves don’t attack their own human

Author’s POVThe room was filled with a tense, uneasy silence.Henry lay on the bed in Harlow’s chamber, his broad frame unnaturally still against the dark sheets. His chest rose and fell slowly, shallow breaths that looked more like the body remembering how to live than choosing to. His skin had lost its usual warmth, the healthy glow of an Alpha dulled to a pallor. He looked like a ghost of his former self.Harlow sat rigidly in a chair near the wall, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had gone white. He hadn’t looked away from Henry once since they’d carried him in. Not when the blood had soaked through his hands. Not when Henry had gone slack in his arms. Not even when Healer Apollo arrived, face drawn and movements swift, and took control of the room.Now Apollo stood at Henry’s side again, bent over him, fingers pressing lightly along his neck, his wrist, the place where teeth marks still marred the skin despite hours of tr

You’re the Luna

Author’s POVMonroe did not wait long after the elders’ meeting ended.The moment the heavy doors of the throne room closed and the murmurs of departing elders faded into the corridors, he turned on his heel and strode through the pack house with clipped, purposeful steps. Servants flattened themselves against the walls as he passed, heads bowed, eyes averted. No one dared stop him. No one ever did when Elder Monroe wore that expression.He found Isyra in her room.She was seated on the edge of the bed, still in the pale gown she had worn to the meeting, her hands clenched in the fabric of her skirt. Her shoulders were shaking, silent sobs tearing through her chest as tears streaked down her face unchecked. The room smelled faintly of crushed flowers and fear.Monroe stopped just inside the doorway and watched her for a moment.Pathetic, he thought.Then he shut the door with a sharp click that made Isyra flinch.She looked up at him with wet, desperate eyes, relief flashing across he

She will crown herself

Author’s POVThe room was thick with perfume, heat, and restrained fury.Isyra stood at the center of her chambers while two maids fluttered around her, fastening the last hooks of her gown and smoothing invisible creases that did not exist. Silk slid over her skin like a second layer of armor—deep blue, cut to command attention, chosen deliberately. Not soft. Not gentle. Powerful.Her hair was pinned back in an elegant sweep that exposed her throat, her collarbones, the line of her jaw. The maids dusted shimmer across her cheekbones, darkened her lashes, painted her lips a muted rose that suggested control rather than sweetness.She stared at her reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.Good.This was not the girl who cried on her bed minutes ago.This was the woman her father had demanded she become.“Leave,” Isyra said coolly once they finished.The maids bowed quickly and retreated, relief obvious in their hurried steps. The door closed behind them wi

I AM THE LUNA!

Author’s POVIsyra emerged from the throne room with the measured grace of a victor who had just learned how intoxicating power could be.Madam Joyce walked a half-step behind her, her head bowed—not deeply, but just enough to signal compliance. Bellona followed on the other side, rigid with restrained fury, her face flushed a deep, dangerous red. If not for the discipline carved into her bones over years of command, she might have exploded already. But she held herself together, jaw tight, eyes sharp, swallowing whatever protest burned at the back of her throat.Isyra noticed all of it.She savored it.For the first time since Henry had collapsed, since fear and uncertainty had threatened to swallow her whole, she felt… steady. Grounded. Powerful. She had done it. She had bent the two women who truly kept the pack running—its spine and its shield—under her thumb.Why wouldn’t she feel victorious?The corridor outside the throne room was long and arched, lit by tall sconces that cast

I want them arrested

Author’s POVWhen Lysera disappeared down the corridor, Isyra did not move at first.She stood where she was, spine straight, chin lifted, watching the empty space as though Lysera might reappear if she stared hard enough. The echoes of boots and dragged footsteps faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the pack house and the low thrum of unrest that never truly quieted.Something cold unfurled in Isyra’s chest.Not relief.Not satisfaction.Possession.Lysera was gone—for now—but Isyra knew better than to mistake removal for victory. Wolves were persistent creatures. So were mistakes. And Lysera, infuriatingly, had a way of lingering even when she wasn’t present. Isyra inhaled slowly, then turned on her heel.Bellona stood a few paces away, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed along her temple. Madam Joyce hovered near the wall, hands folded, eyes lowered just enough to appear respectful without fully surrendering.Isyra’s lips curved.“Didn’t Alpha Hudson come h

You have not been marked!

Author’s POVThe first arrest happened before sunset.Hudson’s men were seized at the borders, disarmed, and dragged back under heavy guard. Their protests were ignored, their insignia ripped from their cloaks, their Alpha’s seal dismissed as meaningless wax and ink once silver closed around their wrists. The prison’s gates slammed shut behind them with a sound that echoed across the prison walls—and by the time the dust settled, word had already begun to spread.Whispers crept through the pack house like smoke. Those whispers became arguments in corridors and training yards. Arguments sharpened into shouting matches that guards had to break apart with hands on hilts. Servants stopped meeting one another’s eyes. Warriors lingered longer than necessary near weapon racks, pretending to polish blades already clean.By nightfall, Isyra had issued more orders.Border patrols were doubled—then tripled—until the watchfires burned like a second ring of stars around the territory. Cooperative

Pray to the moon goddess

Author povFor a heartbeat, Isyra did not breathe. Then her eyes went fully silver.“How dare you,” she hissed.She stepped forward, voice trembling—not with weakness, but with barely leashed rage.“How dare you speak of my loss as though it disqualifies me.”She lifted her chin. “Henry lies bleeding because an enemy struck from the shadows. And while he fights for his life, you undermine the only person standing between this pack and chaos.”Mathias opened his mouth—“Seize him,” Isyra said calmly.Bellona moved instantly. Her guards surged forward with her. Mathias barely had time to turn before his arms were wrenched behind his back.“This is treason!” he roared. “You arrogant girl—!”“Careful,” Isyra said coolly. “Every word you speak digs your grave deeper.”The elders who had followed him froze.One stepped back. Then another. Their bodies shaking with heat.Within moments, two elders were bowing, voices shaking as they pledged obedience—terrified of silver handcuffs and cold da

Disgrace the Monroe’s name

Author’s POVHenry’s office smelled of old parchment, ink, and authority.It always had.The room had been designed to remind anyone who entered that power lived here—stone walls etched with the pack’s crest, shelves lined with ledgers chronicling decades of rule, a heavy desk positioned so that the Alpha could see the door and the windows at once. Henry had always said it was practical.Isyra thought it was beautiful.She sat in Henry’s chair now.The seat was large beneath her, the carved arms cool against her skin, but instead of shrinking into it, she looked as though she belonged there. Her back was straight, chin lifted, silver embroidery catching the light as she leaned back slightly, fingers resting on the armrests as though they had always been meant for her hands.She was glowing.The echoes of the pack’s response still rang in her ears—the bowed heads, the reverent silence, the way thousands of voices had quieted when she spoke. They had called her Luna. Not once. Not twice

This was pure undiluted madness

Author’s POVSilence settled over Henry’s office like a held breath.The echo of Monroe’s slap still seemed to linger in the air, sharp and invisible, vibrating against the stone walls long after the sound itself had died. Isyra stood where she was, one hand pressed to her burning cheek, eyes unfocused, chest rising too fast as she struggled to draw air into her lungs.Monroe watched her without sympathy.“Sit,” he said at last.The word was not loud, but it carried weight—years of conditioning wrapped in a single syllable. Isyra obeyed without thinking, sinking back into Henry’s chair as though her legs no longer trusted her. The seat felt colder now. Larger. Less welcoming.Her father resumed pacing, slow and methodical, like a predator circling prey that was already wounded.“You are thinking with your heart,” Monroe said, voice calm again, almost conversational. “That is your greatest flaw.”Isyra swallowed. “I’m thinking about Henry.”“That is the problem,” he snapped, spinning t

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