<h4>Chapter 275: What The Hell Happened?</h4>


    "Hey," he murmured.


    She didn’t move. Didn’t even turn. And that was when he felt it. The anguish rolling off her.


    His chest constricted. He closed the distance in two strides, spinning her gently but firmly to face him. His heart split open at the sight.


    Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes swollen and red, and she looked so heartbreakingly fragile he nearly roared at the universe. "Moonlight?" His hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs brushing over wet skin as if he could erase the evidence of her pain.


    "Babe? What the hell happened?"


    Luna merely gazed up at him, hershes wet, her lips trembling. What was she supposed to say to him? That a lowly maid had dared to threaten her ce, her crown, her love? How petty it sounded, even in her head.


    She swallowed, straightening her spine in defiance of her own fragility. "I’m fine," she whispered, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.


    His thumb brushed against her cheek. "Did the definition of fine change since I left home this morning?" He hated being shut out of her pain, hated that she could think she had to bear it alone.


    Luna let out a shaky breath, her defenses crumbling as she leaned into his chest. "I’m just happy...and scared at the same time," she admitted, the confession breaking out of her. Her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt.


    "Scared that maybe our happily ever after is not here yet. Scared that someday, you won’t look at me this way anymore, like I’m your beginning and your end."


    Damien crushed her against him, his arms tightening. His lips pressed into her hair. "You cannot take that away from me, Luna."


    She pulled back slightly, blinking up at him with wide, searching eyes. "What?"


    "I am the insecure one, remember?" he murmured, cupping her chin so she couldn’t look anywhere but at him.


    "I am the one afraid of losing you. You think you’re scared? Hell, Moonlight, I wake up every morning terrified that if I blink too long, you’ll vanish. You make me so damn happy, sopletely whole, that sometimes I think it’s all a dream." His lips grazed her forehead.


    "I love you so much, I fear the goddess herself would grow jealous and rip you away from me just to punish me."


    Luna sniffled. "Keep talking like that and you may get lucky tonight." She chuckled softly, pressing her forehead against his chest. Her insecurities might whisper and shadows might linger, but here in his arms, she knew she was untouchable.


    Damien exhaled augh that vibrated through his chest, his hand slipping possessively down her spine. "Moonlight, being inside you isn’t luck. It’s salvation."


    And as she clung to him, the world outside could crumble, and Isolde—damned, marked, irrelevant—could burn. Because here, pressed against her mate, Luna knew the truth: that woman had no chance. Not now. Not ever.


    "I have some good news though," Damien said atst, his thumb still brushing along Luna’s cheek.


    "Please, tell me. It will do me good," she murmured.


    "The heir has been cleared," Damien announced. "He is doing fine. No blood yearning." Relief threaded his words.


    Luna’s entire body loosened at that, her head falling briefly against his chest in gratitude. "Thank the goddess," she whispered fervently. Then she tilted her face up to him, her eyes catching the flicker of distance in his gaze—the shadows that never quite left him.


    "What is it?" she asked softly.


    "I wonder the effect it had on Morvakar," Damien admitted. "There must have been a huge price to pay. Magic that dangerous, it doesn’t bend without exacting something in return."


    His brows knit together, the crease there deepening, betraying his concern for the sorcerer who had given everything for them.


    Luna’s heart clenched. "He didn’t say anything to me," she confessed. "Will you speak with him?"


    Damien shook his head slowly. "I think he opens up more with you."


    "In other words, I should talk to him." Luna’s lips curved despite the heaviness of the moment.


    "Well," Damien teased. "You have got the man wrapped around your little finger."


    "True that." Luna’s shameless grin broke through the lingering tension, her mischief glimmering in her eyes. She leaned into his chest again, hiding her smile against the warmth of his shirt. "He did good," she added, softer this time, her gratitude genuine.


    "Yeah, he did," Damien agreed.


    *****


    Kyllian was on his way back from his old pack—the territory he once ruled before rising as Alpha King of all the West.


    The position of Alpha remained empty. It was supposed to be Talon’s, a reward for his service and loyalty. But Talon’s ce, for now, was in Blood City—his eyes and ears fixed firmly on Luna, his duty keeping him tethered to the queen.


    As Kyllian drove past the bumpy dirt road, the steering wheel shuddering in his grip, his wolf stirred with an intensity that made his chest ache. The howl that ripped through his mind was so painful, so loud, it felt like a w had been dragged across his skull.


    Kyllian cursed under his breath, one hand flying up to clutch his temple. His other hand jerked the wheel, and for a heartbeat, he nearly lost control of the car.


    He mmed the brakes, and leaned back in his seat with his eyes shut tight. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He dragged a ragged breath into his lungs, fighting the dizzying pressure that seemed toe from inside his very blood. "What’s going on?" he muttered.


    When he cracked his eyes open, the rear-view mirror caught the faint golden re in his irises. His wolf was closer to the surface than usual, but not in the way it wanted release. No, this was different. The beast didn’t want freedom—it was restless, prowling, pacing.


    Instinct tugged at him, a sharp pull in his gut that pointed him toward the wall of thick, looming woods lining the dirt road. He narrowed his eyes, peering into the woods, but all he could see was the endless green blur of trees. Still, his wolf surged forward, insistent.


    "Damn it," Kyllian growled. He shoved open the car door. His boots crunched on the undergrowth as he stepped into the woods, following the invisible leash of his wolf’s demand.


    Minutes passed, each step sinking him deeper into the forest’s silence. His wolf wed at him with every heartbeat, pulling, pushing, demanding he keep going. Sweat slicked the back of his neck. He almost gave up, frustration gnawing at him. Maybe it was nothing.


    A ssh of color caught his eye through the tangle of ferns and fallen branches. A stark, unnatural blotch against the sea of green. He narrowed his gaze, his pulse lurching.


    He stepped closer. And then he saw a woman. Her bodyy twisted awkwardly across the forest floor, her pale skin marred by deep bruises and marks. She looked as though she had been hunted, beaten, left to die among the trees.


    But beneath the carnage, Kyllian could tell—she was werewolf.


    His throat went dry as he crouched beside her.


    "Who the hell are you?" he murmured, brushing a strand of matted hair from her face.


    Quickly, Kyllian dropped to his knees in the dirt, his hands trembling as they sought the fragile warmth of the woman’s throat.


    Her pulse was there—faint, as weak as a candle me fighting the wind. Relief surged through him but it did little to ease the dread curling inside his gut. She was alive, but barely. Worse, her wounds weren’t healing. That was wrong.


    His wolf howled again, a low, bone-shaking sound that reverberated through his marrow. This time it was amand. Submit. Kyllian’s entire body seized, the alien instinct so violent it forced his head to dip forward, his muscles trembling as though he was about to bow.


    Him. The Alpha King. "What the fuck," he snarled under his breath, fighting against the impossible pull. Who the hell was this woman, that his wolf demanded reverence?


    Grinding his teeth, he shoved the urge down and gathered her into his arms. She was feather-light, far too fragile for a wolf, her skin burning against his chest. It wasn’t until she was nestled against him, her head lolling against his shoulder, that his gaze dropped lower.


    His breath caught. Her stomach—round. His gut twisted savagely, rage and disbelief flooding him in equal measure. Who the fuck would do this? Who would dare brutalize a pregnant wolf? It was savagery.


    His arms tightened around her. She was his responsibility now. With his pulse hammering in his ears, Kyllian turned and strode back toward his car. Every second mattered.


    *****


    Morvakar stood silently, hands sped behind his back, as Thessa bent over the cradle where the heir slept. She adjusted the covers for the third time, her long fingers lingering on the child’s tiny chest as though to reassure herself he was still breathing.


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