Chapter 204
Lily’s POV The relentless attacks and the bizarre theft of Brett’s body forced the Moonlight Clan to make a difficult decision: relocation. We couldn’t sit idly by. If the war continued like this, our small pack would be worn down and destroyed. But we didn’t flee far. Ethan’s innate pride as an Alpha wouldn’t allow us to hide like cowards. Our new wolf den was chosen in a more secluded, defensible valley, dozens of miles from our original site, near another small logging town. Our parents also moved to the town. The locals spoke rough and loud, but they were warm and easy to get along with. I could finally see my little Aurora every day again, God knows how much I missed her. Ethan still led his squad, that was my brother’s men, on daily ghostly patrols around our former territory, alert to every whisper of movement. Thankfully, the witches concocted an exceptionally effective scent-masking potion, allowing them to depart secretly from our new home each day and return safely without revealing our location. Xaver, as the pack’s beta, demonstrated exceptional diplomatic skills. He began actively reaching out to and negotiating with more neutral wolf packs in the vicinity. Facing hunters and hired mercenaries, individual packs were too weak. Only by banding together could they survive. Kyle’s pack clearly recognized this too. Upon learning Brett’s body had been stolen, he almost immediately suspected hunters. He dispatched Max, leading a squad of elite werewolves to assist—both to bolster our strength and to allow Celena’s brother to better care for his only remaining sister. Max’s POV Seeing Natalie again, no, perhaps I should call her Celena now. It felt… different. She wasn’t the cold, lifeless porcelain doll she’d been right after Brett’s death, fragile as if she might shatter at the slightest touch. Now she could converse calmly with others, and a glimmer of life had returned to her eyes. On the surface, she seemed to be recovering from her trauma. But… something felt off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. She was too calm, almost unnaturally so. Her sorrow seemed wrapped in an invisible membrane, not vanished, but sealed away. Her wolf… her essence felt so faint it was nearly imperceptible. Was I just too slow to notice? Or were men inherently bad at picking up on these subtle shifts? I scratched my head, feeling confused, but more than anything, unsure where to even begin talking to her about it.