<b>Chapter </b><b>164 </b>


    The manor smelled faintly of herbs when Monica arrived, a sharp, clean tang that followed her like a


    banner.


    She traveled from the Kingdom the moment she heard what had happened–barely resting, barely pausing. Her presence filled the hall in a way no warrior could. Not loud, <i>not </i>threatening, but solid, a reminder that some battles are fought with care rather than ws.


    The moment she saw me, she didn’t waste time with greetings.


    Her bag hit the floor with a thump and she was at my side, hands firm but gentle, tilting my chin, brushing hair away, touching the pulse at my wrist. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and merciless in their


    attention.


    “You look pale,” she muttered, already reaching for a vial of tonic.


    “I am pale,” I teased, but she only gave me a look that said humor wasn’t wee yet.


    Then, before I could protest, she turned on her heel and stalked toward Audrey.


    Audrey, predictably, bristled. “I don’t need a nurse fussing over me. I’ve had worse and stood on my feet the next day.”


    Monica ignored herpletely, pressing fingers against her temples, checking her breathing, and muttering under her breath.


    Audrey swatted half–heartedly, like a cat tolerating unwanted affection.


    “You’re not healthy enough to even stand for a proper fight,” Monica scolded. “You may fool Marlow, but you don’t fool me.”


    Audrey groaned, muttering something that sounded like traitor, but didn’t fight her off again.


    I watched from my chair, relief easing through me. Audrey’s pride was iron, but her body had taken more than she admitted.


    Monica’s stubborn care was exactly what she needed–even if she wouldn’t thank her for it.


    After she checked every bruise and pulse, after she had prodded, red, and dered us alive enough to go on, Monica finally snapped.


    She turned back to me, hands on her hips, eyes shing. “What in the goddess’s name were you thinking? Running off with the King without telling anyone? Do you think the rest of us don’t care


    what happens to you?”


    Her voice rose, sharp as a whip crack. “Do you think we would sit in the Kingdom and gossip while you bleed? Never. Not one of us. You are our Luna. You are-” She stopped, her throat tightening. Then she hissed, “Never make us feel useless again.”


    I couldn’t help it–I chuckled softly, despite the sting in her words. The tension in my chest loosened as I looked at her, fierce and unyielding, loyal down to her <i>bones</i>.


    “Nforget sometimes,” I admitted, smiling faintly, “that I have the <i>most </i>loyal <i>people </i>beside me. Not just subjects. Not just warriors. Friends.”


    Monica’s eyes softened at that, though her mouth stayed stubbornly tight.


    “Yes,” I thought as I looked at her. “I am not only Francesco’s fated mate. Not only their Luna. In the Kingdom, I found something I had never had before. A true friend.”


    My mind wandered briefly, remembering the woman who had first helped me when everything had copsed–the magic healer who saved me when my body and spirit were both breaking.


    “How’s Lira?” asked, my voice quiet.


    At that, Monica’s expression softened.


    She sighed, the edge leaving her shoulders. “She’s okay. She said to tell you she misses you, that she’s still recovering herself but she thinks of you often.”


    I smiled, a warmth blooming in my chest. “Tell her I’ll write soon.”


    “I’ll tell her,” Monica promised.


    Her eyes drifted around the room, taking in the worn walls, the tired faces, the silence that clung too thickly to the air.


    When she finally spoke, her voice was softer but heavier.


    “No more young women left,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a wound pressed into


    words.


    I nodded, the weight of it pressing against me.


    Audrey’s voice cut through, her tone sharp with bitterness. “That’s what happens when an Alpha loses his Luna. He loses his mind too. And in his madness, he thinks he can drag her back by any means, no matter the cost.” She nced at me then, softer, but still fierce. “This is why King Alpha Francesco


    11:31 Wed, 3 SeptA


    <b>2 </b>? 3 38%–


    never lets you out of his sight. Why even Luca was cast out after he once dared toy a hand against you. He knows–losing you would be the end of him.”


    I swallowed hard.


    The truth of her words burned, because I knew it in my bones.


    The downfall of any Alpha was not war, not politics, not even death itself.


    It was the loss of his Luna.


    Francesco had told me once that the bond was not a chain–it was a me. And mes, when snuffed,


    left only smoke and ashes.


    Monica folded her arms, her healer’s eyes scanning me again as though she could <i>see </i>the flicker of that me deep inside. “So what now?” she asked finally. “What’s the King’s n? We can’t leave this


    territory like this. There are no warriors left, only elders too old to fight. Children who cannot defend


    themselves. Empty homes, broken hearts.”


    Her voice trembled slightly, not in fear but in fury. “This pack needs more than pity. It needs direction. A King’s decision.”


    Heaned back, my eyes drifting to the window, where beyond the ss I could see the gray stretch of thend. Broken, hollow, yet waiting.


    Francesco’s n.


    Yes. That was the question.


    What would the King do with and stripped of youth and strength?


    Would he fold it into the Kingdom, rebuild it brick by brick?


    Would he nt new warriors here, forge something new from what was lost?


    I pressed my hand over my chest where my bond to him thrummed steady, and I knew: whatever


    choice he made, it would not be for power. It would be for them. For the women whose souls had been stolen, for the children who deserved tough again, for the old who had carried too much on


    their shoulders.


    I met Monica’s eyes and answered softly, “He’ll do what he always does. He’ll protect them. And together… we’ll make this ce live again.”


    375


    11:31 Wed, 3 Sept


    The balcony was wide, its stone balustrade cold beneath my hands.


    I leaned against it, staring out at the manor grounds as night draped itself over thend.


    3


    The air was still, carrying no trace ofughter, no squeals of children running too fast on uneven paths, no murmurs of young lovers daring to sneak away beneath the moonlight.


    +23


    This ce felt like a painting left unfinished–shadows where color should have been, silence where joy once echoed. A pack, yes, but one hollowed out, one that had lost its heart long before we arrived.


    I had stood there for hours, perhaps.


    Long enough for the torches in the courtyard below to burn low.


    Long enough for the weight in my chest to grow heavier with each breath.


    Something had to be done.


    But what?


    The door behind me creaked softly, then closed again.


    Warmth enveloped me before I turned.


    Francesco’s arms slid around my waist, drawing me back against the solid line of his chest. His lips brushed against the curve of my neck, feather–light but grounding.


    “What’s inside my Luna’s head that makes her think this hard?” he murmured, voice low, almost yful, though the concern beneath it was unmistakable.


    His arms stayed firmly around me, anchoring me in his strength.


    I sighed, leaning back into him, letting his warmth seep into the cold I hadn’t realized clung to my skin. “That this pack is so silent,” I whispered. “Too silent.”


    He stilled for a heartbeat, then exhaled softly, his breath brushing against my hair. “Yes,” he said, his tone edged with sorrow. “Silent, and <b>broken</b>. Lucky we came when we did.”


    I nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the emptiness beyond. “You know…. I remember what Anastasia once told me,” I said, my voice carrying the memory of the woman whom give my magic power and help me through everything. “She warned me–that when the dark magic is lifted from the world, hidden


    creatures will rise with it. Freed from whatever bound them.”


    Francesco silence for a moment, like he absorb what I tell him.


    11:31 Wed, 3 Sept A


    2 ? ?? 38?


    “The Subus?” Francesco said quietly, his arms tightening slightly as though to shield me from even


    the thought.


    I nodded my head “Yes,” I breathed. “I guess… She was one of them.”


    Silence stretched between us, heavy with realization.


    “Meaning…” His voice dropped, steel beneath the velvet. “There are more out there.”


    I swallowed, my hands curling against the railing.


    The night seemed darker suddenly, the quiet heavier, as if the shadows themselves were listening. “Yes. More creatures, more things that should have stayed buried. If the Subus was here, others


    will be too.”


    His chest rose and fell against my back, the rhythm steady, calm, but I knew him well enough to feel the tension coiling beneath his skin.


    Francesco was never one to shy from enemies, but the thought of unseen, unnumbered threats stalking the world–threats that could steal faces, souls, and futures–would have unsettled anyone.


    “Then we prepare,” he said simply, as if the answer was as clear as moonlight. “We strengthen this world if we must, we heal what was broken, and we ready ourselves.”


    His lips brushed my temple this time, softer, reverent.


    And for the first time since I stepped onto that balcony, I let myself breathe.


    Yes, he was right… As long as I have him, I can do everything.


    AD


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