Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 385

Killian’s POV

The Emberwood ruins were silent, but it was a deceptive kind of peace.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and ash, and every shadow seemed to whisper of danger.

Warriors moved through the wreckage with weary purpose, tending to the wounded or reinforcing what defenses we had left.

Nova rested in one of the makeshift infirmary tents, her pale face a stark reminder of how close we’d come to losing everything.

Drystan was at her side, his usual stoicism replaced by a quiet but fierce protectiveness.

Astrid was near the council chamber, her presence a steadying force as warriors gathered to plan our next steps.

The weight of the siege hung heavily on us all, but the real burden sat in the back of my mind: the Amulet.

We reconvened in the council chamber later that evening. The warriors who could stand attended, their faces etched with exhaustion.

The Amulet, I thought, would be the center of this conversation—our next move, our strategy. But when I stepped into the chamber, my heart sank.

The pedestal where the Amulet had been placed after the battle was empty.

“Where is it?” Astrid asked sharply, breaking the tense silence.

A ripple of unease passed through the room.

Drystan stepped forward, his gaze scanning the area like a predator searching for prey. “It was here after the battle. I saw it myself.”

“Search the room,” I ordered, though dread had already taken root in my chest. The Amulet wasn’t misplaced. It couldn’t simply vanish.

Warriors began to check every corner, overturning tables and searching the surrounding areas, but I knew it was futile.

“It’s gone,” Astrid said, her voice grim.

“Who took it?” Nova’s voice trembled with both anger and fear as she leaned on Drystan for support.

Before anyone could answer, a scout burst into the room, his face pale. “Alpha Killian,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s Rowena. She’s gone.”

We followed the scout to Rowena’s cell, the tension mounting with every step. When we arrived, the truth was unmistakable.

The door hung ajar, the lock broken cleanly, as though by someone who knew exactly how to dismantle it.

Inside, the shackles lay discarded on the floor, and the faint scent of blood and another wolf lingered in the air.

Drystan’s claws flexed at his sides, his wolf rising to the surface. “This wasn’t an escape,” he growled. “It was a plan. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

Astrid knelt near the shackles, her fingers brushing the cold metal. “She didn’t do this alone,” she said, her voice sharp. “Someone helped her—someone who wanted her free.”

My chest tightened as I thought of the Amulet. “If she’s gone, then she has it,” I said, my voice low and heavy.

Drystan turned to me, his eyes blazing. “You let her live. You trusted her. And now she’s taken the one thing that could destroy us.”

The scout handed me a crumpled piece of parchment, his hands shaking as he did so. I unfolded it, recognizing Rowena’s hurried scrawl: