Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 433

Astrid’s POV

The night stretched on, endless and suffocating. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows against the walls, but the light felt hollow—cold.

The Packhouse was eerily quiet, the usual hum of distant conversations and footsteps replaced by an unbearable stillness.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers twisting the fabric of my shirt, my thoughts a hurricane raging inside me.

Elara.

Her name was carved into every thought, every breath, every aching second that passed.

She was out there, in the dark, in the hands of the man who wanted nothing more than to see me broken.

And I was still here. Waiting.

I had tried. I had tried to listen to Killian, to hold on to the logic that we could save her together, that there was a plan, a chance.

But how could I gamble my daughter’s life on a chance?

What if they were wrong? What if we weren’t fast enough? What if she needed me now?

My throat tightened, the guilt curling around me like a noose. I had waited too long already. I had let Killian convince me that we had time.

But I knew better.

I had seen the way rogues worked. They didn’t take prisoners out of mercy. They took them to make statements, to break their enemies.

And I would not let my daughter become a casualty in this war.

I inhaled sharply, my mind made up.

I was going to Ardan.

Alone.

—---------------------------

The clock on the wall read 2:47 AM.

I had been sitting in silence for the past hour, listening. Waiting.

Killian was downstairs, still working with Ryder and the warriors. He hadn't come back to bed—not that I had expected him to.

He had been watching me too closely, afraid I would spiral again.

But he had let his guard down just enough.

I exhaled slowly, steadying my nerves as I pulled on a dark jacket. My hands trembled as I zipped it up, but I forced myself to breathe.

I couldn’t afford to hesitate.

With one last glance at the door, I crept toward the window. The cool night air brushed against my skin as I pushed it open.

I was on the second floor, but that didn’t matter. I had scaled walls higher than this before.

Swinging my legs over the ledge, I grabbed onto the gutter and lowered myself down carefully. My feet hit the ground with barely a sound.

No alarms. No guards spotting me.

Good.

I moved quickly, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I slipped through the shadows of the Packhouse, avoiding the patrols.

The warriors were stationed mainly near the entrances, expecting an attack—not an escape.

They weren’t expecting me to leave.

I reached the treeline, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, anxious, restless, warning me to stop.

But I ignored her.

I was doing this for Elara.

And nothing—not even Killian—was going to stop me.

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Killian’s POV