Chapter b179 /b

    65 vatichers

    It had been one month since dust and lies carried Alpha Dorian away from our gates.

    One month since the square trembled with his poison.

    One month since Sofia and Lucien chose their own road.

    And in that month, Valmont had begun to breathe again.

    I thought often of that first night – – the silence so thick it felt like cloth stuffed into the throat of the territory.

    No childrenughing.

    No women trading gossip across fences.

    No music or wolf–song.

    Only silence, heavy and unnatural.

    Now, when I stood on the balcony of the manor, the air was different. Life had seeped back into the cracks Henri had left behind.

    Children shrieked as they chased each other with sticks turned to swords. Women stirred great pots of stew, herbs and broth perfuming the square until even warriors slowed to breathe it in. Men carried beams across fields where new homes rose from the soil like promises. And for the first time since I had arrived, I heard singing.

    Soft at first, from one woman foldingundry.

    Then another joined.

    Then another.

    Until voices braided together, threading life into stone.

    I pressed my hand to my chest and whispered to myself, “Alive.”

    Arms came around my waist from behind, warm and sure. Francesco’s chin rested on my shoulder, his scent surrounding me, steadying me.

    “What is it, my Luna?” he murmured, his voice vibrating against my skin.

    “Do you hear them?” My throat tightened. “Voices. Laughter. This ce breathes again.”

    Through the bond, I felt his pride unfurl, golden fire wrapping us both.

    He pressed a slow kiss to the side of my neck, reverent, like he was thanking the Goddess herself.

    “Because of you,” he whispered.

    b19:02 /bbThu/b, bSep /b18

    b55 /bvouchers

    I turned my head, meeting his eyes, it was dark but softened by firelight. “Because of us,” I corrected.

    He smiled then, small and rare, the kind that made my heart ache because it was not the King’s smile but Francesco’s my mate’s.

    –

    –

    That evening, we sat with Beta Alfonso, Monica, Marlow, and Audrey around a long oak table, parchment scattered with ideas.

    “They need joy,” I said, smoothing the parchment with my hands. “They need to remember the moon is not only for mourning. Let’s give them a celebration. Music. Food. A run together under the full moon.”

    Monica’s eyes shone, her lips trembling with memory. “I used to braid flowers into my mothers‘ hair during the moon–dance,” she murmured. “I thought I’d never see that again.”

    “You will,” Francesco said, his voice certain.

    Alfonso’s quill scratched across parchment. “Food. Drink. A bonfire. Musicians. It doesn’t need to be grand, but it must be abundant.”

    “And the run,” Marlow said with a wolfish grin. “They’ve been caged so long, they’ve forgotten their lungs. Time to remind them.”

    Audrey snorted, her voice sharp. “Half of them will copse before the ridge. But better they copse from joy than rot in silence.”

    Francesco leaned forward, his gaze sweeping us all. “Then it’s decided. We give them back what was stolen. Not with swords, but with song.”

    My chest warmed.

    Not just because of the n, but because of how his eyes lingered on me as he said it as though this gift was not just for them, but for me too.

    The week passed in a blur of preparation.

    Gands of greenery and pale flowers hung from beams and across the square.

    Bakers sweated in front of ovens, pulling loaves fragrant enough to make even the sternest warriors linger.

    Children practiced dances, tripping over their own feet and giggling.

    Monica brewed herbal wines, muttering that half the pack would end up foolish, but her secret smile betrayed her anticipation.

    I found Francesco in the field one afternoon, stripped to his shirt, sleeves rolled high.

    He lifted beams that bent the backs of two men, muscles rippling with every movement. Sweat clung to his skin, glinting in the sunlight.

    Wolves watched him with awe, whispers spreading – their King, their Alpha, not above them, but with them.

    “You’ll ruin your regal image,” I teased as I approached.

    ? ????

    He nced at me, smirking. “Better they remember me with dirt under my nails than only blood on my

    hands.”

    I reached up, brushing dust from his jaw, my fingers lingering longer than necessary.

    My warmth, Lycan.

    “They’ll remember both,” I whispered, “and love you all the more for it.”

    The bond pulsed warm and steady.

    His hand found my hip, grounding me, and for a moment the world fell away, just the two of us standing in a field, surrounded by the sound of life being built anew.

    When the night of the full moon arrived, the square glowed withnterns.

    At its center roared a great bonfire, mes leaping like dancers.

    Wolves filled the space, dressed in their best clothes, faces alive with anticipation.

    Music began, hesitant at first, then bolder. Drums thudded, fiddles sang, pipes carried notes into the night.

    Francesco and I entered hand in hand.

    For a heartbeat, silence fell.

    Then cheers rose, fierce and loud.

    “My King! My Luna!”

    I swallowed the lump in my throat. They weren’t just calling us leaders. They were calling us theirs.

    The music swept us into movement. Wolves danced,ughter echoing. Children darted through legs, elders pped, and for the first time, Valmont felt alive.

    Francesco caught me in his arms and spun me into the circle.

    His hand pressed to the small of my back, guiding me with confidence. Iughed, breathless, as he led me through steps I half–remembered from childhood.

    “You dance well for a King,” I teased.

    His ck eyes gleamed, his lips brushing my ear. “I only dance well with you.”

    Heat flushed my cheeks.

    The bond pulsed, wrapping us in warmth.

    His thumb traced my spine, sending shivers down to my toes.

    F 55 youchers

    When he spun me back into his arms, the world narrowed to the space between us – his breath against my cheek, his gaze holding mine, the strength of his body moving with mine like we had always belonged in this rhythm.

    Around us, the packughed and danced, but for me, there was only Francesco.

    “You wanted joy,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You gave it back to them. And to me.”

    I leaned into him, my hand curling against his chest. “We gave it back. Together.”

    He kissed me then, right there in the square, in front of everyone – not as King and Luna, but as mates.

    The cheer that rose was deafening, a tide of eptance and joy.

    When the moon reached its peak, silver and full, the music fell quiet.

    Francesco stepped forward, his voice carrying deep and strong.

    “Tonight we remember what it is to be free. Tough. To run beneath the Goddess‘ light. No Alpha will cage you again. No rumor will chain you. You are mine, and I am yours. Tonight, we run.”

    A roar of howls answered, filling the night.

    Clothes fell away.

    Bones shifted.

    Fur rippled.

    Wolves surged forward, a river of freedom pouring into the fields.

    Beside me, Francesco shifted, his form exploding into the towering dark gray Lycan, massive and beautiful.

    Power radiated from him, golden eyes glowing like fire.

    I let go.

    Bones broke, reformed.

    Fur spilled white as snow across my skin.

    My paws struck the earth, and the world sharpened – scents and sounds alive all around me.

    Francesco’s golden eyes met mine.

    The bond pulsed, stronger than ever, and I felt it – the certainty that we were not just King and Luna, not just Alpha and mate, but one.

    I pressed my muzzle to his, a gesture of devotion, and he lowered his great head, rumbling deep in his chest.

    Then we howled.

    Together…

    4:

    b49 /b

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    The sound split the sky, answered by every wolf in Valmont. A chorus of freedom, of joy, of rebirth.

    We ran, side by side.

    Through fields reborn withughter. Over hills that once mourned but now sang with life. The King’s shadow and the Luna’s light, together leading their people beneath the Goddess‘ silver eye.

    And as the night stretched before us, wild and endless, I knew this truth: storms woulde, whispers would spread, enemies would rise.

    But as long as Francesco and I ran together-

    –

    as long as our bond burned bright — nothing could break us.

    –

    Not Dorian. Not rumor. Not even fate.

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