His Lost Lycan Luna (Jessica Hall) novel Chapter 62

Read His Lost Lycan Luna by Jessica Hall Chapter 62 – Kyson POV

Damian stood by my office window, entirely consumed with whatever he was staring at. He chuckled, and Gannon looked over at him. I tried to ignore them while I put my head back down to go over the maps of where the last children were found, always along the river, yet it wasn’t deep enough for boats to get through, canoes maybe could, yet they were always laid out and on display like they wanted them found and were merely taunting us. However, there was always a hunter’s patch, or a rebel one stuck to each body; it was the indication they were all linked. The location they were always found was never near enough to any packs to pinpoint one, and they were nowhere near any human settlements, so it was a mystery, as always. One that had been doing my head in for years, no scents, no fingerprints, nothing that indicated a location to the hunters or rebel wolves helping them.

Yet the main perpetrator of the werewolf rebellion that was helping the hunters was proven d**d. Marissa, Ivy’s mother, was d**d that much we knew for certain, so who was leading them now? It made no sense to me. It was also the reason after my sister’s d***h, no werewolves could set foot in my castle grounds except Alpha Kade, and of course, Abbie and Ivy who were the first werewolf servants we had in over a decade. Werewolves couldn’t be trusted and everyone was scrutinised before ever entering through my castle gates.

Laughter reaching my ears made me tilt my head, I looked up from examining the dots on the map. I was looking for some sort of pattern to see Gannon and Damian watching out the window. Both of them held silly grins of amusement on their faces.

“They wanna run now. That old woman has a good arm on her,” Gannon chuckled before she cringed.

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” Damian snickered.

“What are you both looking at,” I asked, and Gannon turned slightly to look over his shoulder at me. “Apple war,” he laughed. My eyebrows raised, and he turned back to the window before snorting at whatever he was watching. Intrigued, I got up, walked over to the window, stood beside Damian, and looked down toward the gardens to see Clarice, Abbie, and Ivy were firing apples at Dustin and Peter, our stable hand boy. Cheeky little s**t threw horseshit at Damian once, and man, did he go off. Damian chucked him in the small lake by the stables that day. The kid was always up to no good, but he was a breath of fresh air.

I watched with amusement as Ivy picked up an apple and lobbed it, completely missing her target, only for Dustin to hit her in the head with one. I saw the look of panic on his face when she rubbed the spot. He rushed over to her, only for her to move and facepalm with the mush in her hand.

She landed on top of him after Dustin slipped on an apple in his haste to escape her. The nervous glances I received from Gannon and Damian as they continued to wrestle each other were not missed like they expected me to blow up over them mucking around. Peter rushed to help Dustin as Ivy managed to get him to the ground, only for Peter to be smashed with an apple by Clarice. The woman fist-pumped the air.

Ivy laughed, climbing off Dustin before leaning down and smearing her hand over his face making him cringe before she ducked off. Thunder cracked across the sky. They all froze, looking up at the sky, and Abbie’s shoulders slumped, and so did Peter’s. Ivy wipes her clothes off as she makes her way back to the laundry door, stopping beside Dustin and offering him a hand up.

He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet before he bows to her. Ivy shakes her head before waving goodbye to Peter, and Abbie skips over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her head against Ivy’s shoulder as they walk inside.

“They seem to be having a good time,” I murmured with a nod before walking back to my bar and grabbing a glass. I poured some whiskey in it and sculled it before pouring another. Yet after the third glass, I realized no matter how much I drank, it wouldn’t subdue the jealousy coursing through me at seeing her muck around with the guard.