Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 435

Astrid’s POV

The rogues had been waiting for me.

They lingered in the shadows, motionless, like predators poised for the perfect moment to strike. Their eyes glowed eerily in the dim light of the moon, flickering with something sinister—anticipation.

They knew I was coming.

My stomach twisted, but I forced my expression into something unreadable, my shoulders squared as I stepped forward. I came alone. No weapons. No resistance. Complete surrender.

It was the only way.

If I fought back, if I hesitated for even a second, Ardan might change his mind. He might keep Elara. He might hurt her.

And that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

I took slow, deliberate steps into the clearing, my heartbeat steady despite the way my wolf clawed at the inside of my skin, urging me to turn back, to fight.

Not yet.

I exhaled, tilting my chin upward as I finally stopped before them.

The group of rogues—at least a dozen—remained silent for a moment, assessing me. Then one of them, a tall, lean man with sunken eyes and a wicked grin, let out a sharp laugh.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping forward.

“Look what we have here, boys.” His gaze dragged over me, his amusement clear. “The great Astrid, the Almega, reduced to nothing but a desperate mother.”

A ripple of cruel laughter followed.

I clenched my fists at my sides, but said nothing.

My silence only seemed to encourage them.

Another rogue, this one broader with a scar running down his cheek, smirked. “Didn’t think it’d be this easy,” he mused. “I figured we’d at least get a fight out of her.”

“You’re standing before me,” I said flatly, my voice cool and even. “Do I look like I’m here to fight?”

Scarface let out a low whistle. “She’s got a mouth on her. Guess even legends know how to kneel when the time comes.”

I refused to react, but the rage inside me simmered dangerously close to the surface.

I wasn’t afraid of them.

I had killed more rogues than I could count. If I had come here with a different goal, their blood would already be soaking into the dirt beneath us.

But Elara’s face—her wide, terrified eyes, her desperate screams—held me still.

I had no leverage here. No power.

Only her life.

One of the younger rogues, his sneer barely masking his excitement, took a step closer, looking me over like a prize on display.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he muttered. “Astrid, the untouchable warrior, throwing herself at our feet. If only your people could see you now.”

He took another step, reaching out toward me—

My body moved before I could stop it.

My hand shot out, gripping his wrist in a vice-like hold. My nails dug into his flesh, my voice low and ice-cold.

“Touch me,” I murmured, “and I will break every bone in your worthless body.”

His eyes widened for a split second before Scarface let out a bark of laughter. “Still got some fight left in her.” He grinned. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

I released the rogue’s wrist, my expression settling back into something neutral. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing my fury.

Not yet.