Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 80

Chapter 80

Charlotte

The forest that surrounds Blackthorn is quiet. I look around, noticing how different it looks now. The pine trees twist toward the starless sky like grotesque obelisks. Their bark is black, just like the veins that appear on the wolves that have succumbed to the sickness. It has touched everything, and its scent hangs heavy in the air, even clinging to the soil.

The moment my boot crosses the scent line, a shadow moves to my left. Then another. Wolves watching. Silent. I can feel them press at the edges of my mind, their hunger a hum beneath my skin.

I know I should be afraid. I should turn back. But the fear has burned out of me, replaced with something quieter, heavier. Purpose, maybe. Or inevitability.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The voice cuts through the fog. I spin, my pulse spiking, and find Leah stepping out from behind a pine. Her brown braid is coming loose, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looks alive in a way I haven’t seen in weeks.

“Leah?” My voice comes out in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

She grins, all teeth and mischief. “Did you think I’d let you have all the fun?”

I stare at her, speechless for a heartbeat. She looks steady on her feet, no trace of the wounds Theo healed. No sign of the fever that nearly took her. “You shouldn’t have come,” I say finally.

“Neither should you.” She folds her arms, chin tilting up like she’s daring me to argue. “But here we are.”

Behind her, movement ripples in the trees. Two more figures step out, Damon and Jake.

“You brought them?” She laughs.

“They followed me,” I groan. “They said they’d stay out of sight, but you know how that goes.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you going to ask the same of me?”

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Stay back. All of you. This has to look real.”

Leah frowns. “Charlotte.”

“I mean it,” I snap. “If Samson thinks I came willingly, he’ll talk. But if he sees the three of you, he’ll just start killing people to prove a point.”

Leah snorts with laughter. “I didn’t come alone either.”

“Of course not,” I sigh, as Southpaw warriors step from the trees. “Please, let me do this myself.”

Leah studies me for a long moment, her eyes softening. “You’ve changed,” she says quietly.

“Maybe. I glance toward the dark line of the compound walls in the distance. “Or maybe I’m just done running.”

Leah exhales and takes a step back. “Fine. But don’t expect me to sit still if they hurt you.”

I give her a thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Then I walk away before I can change my mind.

The last stretch of forest feels endless. My boots crunch over old snow and frost–bitten leaves. The cold bites. through my coat, but I keep going, each step heavier than the last. My mind wanders back to the last time I was in this forest. It was warmer then, summer had just ended, and Ronan was rejecting me. I shake the thoughts from my mind, not wanting to think about him, not now.

By the time I reach the gates and step into the dim light, a low growl echoes from the shadows. “Who goes there?”

Two warriors step forward, one gray–haired, the other barely older than me. Both wear the Blackthorn insignia, though their armor looks battered and rusted. The sickness has taken hold even here. I can see it in their eyes, too yellow, too wild.

I lift my hands slowly. “Charlotte.” My voice is steady, even though my heart isn’t. “You can take me to Elder Samson.”

The older one narrows his eyes. “You think we’re fools? You walked into our territory on your own?”

“Yes,” I say simply.

They exchange a look. The younger one sniffs the air, his nostrils flaring as he catches my scent. His expression twists in recognition, or maybe fear. “She’s telling the truth,” he mutters. “The curse–breaker.”

The older one bares his teeth. “Cursed, you mean.”

He jerks his head, and rough hands seize my arms from behind. I don’t resist as they drag me through the gate, into the heart of the Blackthorn Pack.

The smell hits me first. Death. Not fresh, but lingering, sweet and sour, and thick enough to taste. The courtyard is lined with makeshift pyres, blackened and cold. A few wolves linger, their eyes sunken, their bodies trembling with fever. They bow their heads as I pass, not in respect, but in fear.

They think I’m death walking. Maybe they’re not wrong.

The warriors shove me toward the old meeting hall. Its doors hang crooked, half–rotted. Inside, the air is warmer, thick with incense and smoke. Candles flicker in clusters, their light bending over the uneven floor.

And there he is.

Elder Samson.

He sits at the long table like a king without a crown, draped in furs too fine for the ruin surrounding him. His hair is silver–white, his face a map of sharp lines and old scars. But his eyes, his eyes are clear. No sickness. No

madness. Just watching me with careful calculation.

“Well,” he says, smiling. “The prodigal wolf returns.”

The warriors force me to my knees before him. My bones ache against the wood, but I lift my chin anyway. “You have something that belongs to me.”

“Ah.” His smile widens. “Straight to the point. You’re more like your adoptive father than I realized.”

My stomach twists. “Where’s the box?”

He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Safe. For now.”

“I’m here,” I say. “Isn’t that what you wanted? The girl with the goddess’s blood. The one you thought would end the sickness.”

He tilts his head. “You know why you’re not sick, don’t you?”

My mouth goes dry. “Because of the bond. Because of the curse.”

He chuckles. “No, little wolf. You aren’t sick because the gods made you that way. Because your mother thought she could rewrite fate. The curse started with you, and it ends with you.”

His words land heavily. “Then end it,” I whisper. “If that’s what it takes.”

He stands slowly. “You’d die so easily?”

I meet his gaze without flinching. “If it saves them, yes.”

For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes. Then he smiles again, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You sound just like her.”

He nods to one of the guards. “Take her below.”

The grip on my arms tightens. Chains clatter. I stumble as they drag me toward a staircase at the back of the hall, the steps leading down into darkness.

Leah’s voice echoes in my head, “Did you think I’d let you have all the fun?” I cling to it like a charm against fear. Somewhere out there, she’s waiting. Watching. Ready.

I can feel Theo’s presence, too, faint and distant, like static in the air. He knows I’m here. He’s coming. He promised he would after he made sure Ronan was safe.

But for now, I am alone.

The stairs spiral downward, the air growing colder, damper. The scent of wolfsbane and rust fills my lungs.

The guard shoves me into a cell at the bottom, a small room lined with stone, barely wide enough for me to turn around. A single light is outside the bars, and it’s flickering.

When the door slams shut, I sink to my knees. My pulse hammers in my throat, loud enough to drown out

everything else.

Then I hear it, footsteps. Slow and deliberate.

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