Don't Poke the Luna (Xena and Ryder) novel Chapter 82

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Chapter 82

Xena’s POV

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” I said, trying to mask the vulnerability in my voice.

“That’s fantastic! Show me the designs as soon as you can. No rush though–whenever you finish is fine.” Penelope clapped her hands together, flashing me that bright smile that could light up a room.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth spread through my chest. “You’re literally the best person in the world, you know that?”

“Anything for you. I owe you so much–this is nothing.” The sincerity in Penelope’s eyes made something inside me soften, a rare occurrence these days.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The words felt strange leaving my mouth. I wasn’t used to offering help–I was used to doing everything myself.

“Nope, you just tell us the design you want,” Penelope insisted.

Ryder nodded, turning toward his car. His casual confidence both irritated and attracted

me in equal measure.

“Fine, call me if you need anything,” I replied reluctantly. The idea of handing over control to someone else–of standing by while others worked–felt like wearing shoes on

the wrong feet. Uncomfortable. Unnatural.

“Will do.” Penelope waved goodbye, and I walked toward Ryder’s car, each step feeling

heavier than the last.

Inside Ryder’s car, I stared absently out the window, watching the familiar buildings of my

town blur together. I’d spent my entire life being the one who fixed things, who handled problems, who never relied on anyone. Now, suddenly being asked to step back felt like having the ground shift beneath my feet.

“Xena, look at me.”

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Chapter 82

I dragged my gaze away from the window, reluctantly meeting his eyes. Those intense green eyes that seemed to see right through every wall I’d carefully constructed. My heartbeat quickened traitorously.

“Let them handle this. There’s nothing wrong with letting people take care of you sometimes.”

“It feels weird,” I admitted, hating the vulnerability in my voice.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, a note of displeasure coloring his tone.

I crossed my arms defensively. “Why should I get used to it?” My voice came out deliberately difficult. This was familiar territory–pushing back, being stubborn. It felt safer than the alternative.

“Because I said so,” he replied simply.

“You said so?” I looked at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

“For this, yes.”

“We’ll see about that,” I shot back, my tone lacking any real threat, almost bordering on playful. Ryder looked like he wanted to say something but just shook his head instead.

I shifted in my seat, desperate to change the subject. “Have you and Tatum Maddox discussed what happened with my shop?”

Ryder’s body visibly tensed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Nothing’s been done yet. Given that both your birthday celebration and school events will be public, we’re holding off on any major actions for now.”

I merely nodded, turning back to the window. I could feel his surprise at my reaction. The old me would have been raging, demanding immediate retaliation, insisting on eye–for- an–eye justice.

“What I mean is, we’re planning payback. They have a garage in the next city over. We’re going to pay them a visit. That garage is their pack’s main source of income–pretty massive operation. More like a car dealership, really.”

I turned to him in surprise. “Why didn’t I know they owned that place?” My brow furrowed

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in confusion.

“It’s not somewhere we usually go–it’s in another city and operates under a different name. We discovered it by accident years ago while working on something else. We’ve kept it as our ace in the hole, waiting for the right moment. Now with Tatum’s attack targeted directly at you, this retaliation might spark a war.”

“I don’t want to cause a war,” I said quietly.

“Too late, princess. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about his disrespect toward your father’s pack and mine.”