Semua Bab My Fictional Alpha and Me being his Luna for real?!: Bab 11 - Bab 20

(Penny’s POV)The glade fell behind us as we slipped back into the forest, the stone shelter vanishing like a dream I wasn’t sure I’d had. Genesis moved ahead of me, sure-footed, silent, every step deliberate. The gray fur cloak he’d draped over my shoulders was heavy, warm, insulating me from the night chill that had started to seep through the trees. It smelled like him, pine, earth, and that faint, wild musk that made my pulse skip every time I caught it.We didn’t speak at first. The only sounds were our footsteps crunching on fallen leaves, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the distant howls that seemed to echo approval rather than threat. His pack. They knew he’d succeeded in the ambush. They knew he’d brought back… whatever I was.I kept my eyes on his back—broad shoulders under a fresh shirt he’d grabbed from the shelter, bandages hidden now but still there. He shouldn’t have been moving like this. Not after the fight. Not after carrying me. But alphas didn’t complain. Or at

(Penny’s POV)Moonrise came too fast.The valley had quieted under a blanket of twilight, fires banked low, wolves settling into their dens, the distant murmur of voices fading into cricket song and river rush. I stood by the window in Genesis’s chamber, watching shadows lengthen across the keep walls, my stomach knotted tighter than the silk cord Kael’s men had used.I’d packed light, like he said.The backpack, miraculously returned by one of his trusted guards, was slung over one shoulder. Inside: the med kit (still half-full), the half-empty water bottle, a spare tunic and leggings Genesis had given me, a small pouch of dried meat and hard bread from the kitchens, and the gray fur cloak folded neatly on top. No phone. No wallet. No proof I’d ever lived anywhere but here.Genesis appeared in the doorway without a sound, dressed in dark leathers, a hooded cloak of his own, a short sword strapped to his back and a dagger at his hip. He carried a small satchel and a rolled blanket.“R

(Penny’s POV)By the second dawn we were both running on fumes.The burn scar had given way to rolling hills dotted with scrub pine and the occasional stream. We’d crossed three of them already, cold enough to make my teeth chatter, and skirted two more rogue patrols Genesis scented long before they scented us. My blisters had scabbed over under the bandages, but every step still felt like walking on broken glass wrapped in wool.We needed rest. Real rest. Not snatched hours beside a dying fire.“We’re close to Harrowford,” Genesis said as the sun cleared the horizon, painting the grass gold. “Small settlement. Neutral. Humans mostly, with a few half-bloods who keep the peace. They don’t bow to either clan. If we’re lucky, they’ll give us shelter for a day.”“And if we’re not lucky?”He glanced at me sideways. “Then we run again.”Harrowford appeared around midday—a cluster of stone cottages with slate roofs, a central well, a blacksmith’s forge sending up thin smoke, and a single lon

(Penny’s POV)The rain stopped sometime before dawn, leaving the world dripping and silvered with mist. We woke stiff, damp, and bruised, Genesis from the fight and the river, me from every root and rock we’d tripped over. My body felt like it had been tenderized by a mallet, but the fire had kept us from freezing, and his arm around my waist through the night had kept something else at bay: the bone-deep loneliness that had followed me since waking in that first forest.We broke camp quickly, no words needed. He kicked dirt over the embers, shouldered both packs, and offered his hand to pull me up. His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. Neither of us mentioned the kiss. Or the way we’d fallen asleep tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.The marshes were still two days off. We pushed north through thinning forest into wilder country, rocky outcrops, shallow valleys, places where the trees grew sparse and the wind carried the scent of open land

(Penny’s POV) The descent from the mountains felt like falling, physically and otherwise. The path narrowed into switchbacks that hugged sheer drops, gravel sliding under our boots with every step. The air grew thinner, then thicker with the scent of pine and damp earth as we dropped below the snow line. Genesis stayed ahead, testing each foothold, glancing back every few minutes to make sure I was still upright. I was. Barely. My legs trembled from the climb down, my lungs still raw from altitude, but the marshes were close now, one more day, maybe less. The witch’s domain waited somewhere in the fog-choked lowlands ahead. Home waited beyond that, if the door opened.If I chose to step through it. We didn’t speak much during the descent. The silence between us had changed, less tense, more weighted. Every brush of his hand when he helped me over a boulder, every shared look when we paused to drink, carried the unspoken question neither of us wanted to voice yet. By late