Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111

Emily’s POV

Several rogue guards stood behind Declan.

He was smiling. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself, as if we were putting on a show just for him.

Beside me, Stella let out a broken, terrified sound.

Declan called out smoothly. “Come down, little wolves.”

Neither of us moved. I looked up again, desperate. I was right there. One more reach and I’d be over.

Declan’s smile vanished. “Get them down.”

The command snapped through the night like a whip. The guards surged forward.

“No!” I shouted, climbing higher, my muscles screaming.

A hand suddenly clamped around my ankle and yanked. I screamed as I was ripped from the vines, hitting the

ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

Declan sat in front of me. “You really thought I was stupid enough not to notice?” he asked softly.

“You suddenly wanted privacy. In a remote part of the castle.” He tilted his head mockingly. “And I was supposed

o believe that?”

“You are stupid,” I spat, my voice trembling with adrenaline. “If you can’t understand why anyone would want to get away from a monster like you.”

Something dark and sharp flashed in his eyes.

“I’ll fight you until my last breath,” I snarled.

“Oh really?” His gaze darkened. He reached out, his hand sliding slowly up my thigh beneath the silk of my dress.

I moaned at the sudden, possessive warmth of his touch. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “If those ire going to be your last breaths, Emily, I can’t wait to hear them.”

He glanced toward Stella, his expression turning cold. “Throw her in the dungeon. I’ll deal with her myself.”

“No!” I screamed. “She didn’t do anything! This was my idea!”

Stella collapsed at his feet, sobbing. “Please… please…” she cried, clutching at his leg. “Mercy…”

Declan looked down at her as if she were dirt on his boots. No pity. No emotion. Nothing.

“Take her away.”

“Declan, please!” I screamed again, but they dragged her off, her cries fading into the distance.

Then Declan looked up at the massive vines covering the castle walls. His face was terrifyingly calm.

“Burn them,” he commanded.

The guards hesitated, glancing at each other.

“All of them,” he barked. “Tonight.”

“As for you, Emily…” A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips, “You and I are going to have a private

conversation.”

A chill settled deep in my bones.

I tried to shove him back, but suddenly he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Declan!” I screamed.

My hair fell over my face as the world flipped upside down. I started hitting his back immediately with both fists.

“Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!”

He ignored me completely and started walking toward the castle.

I kicked wildly, trying to twist free from his grip. “I hate you!”

“You already said that.”

I slammed my palm against his back again, Hard.

“Declan, let me go!”

His hand suddenly clamped around the back of my thighs, forcing my legs still when I tried kicking him again.

“You’re making this difficult on yourself, sweetheart.”

“I’ll make your life hell!”

A dark laugh rumbled through his chest.

“You already do.”

I hit him again.

And again.

Finally, Declan stopped walking for one dangerous second.

Then his large hand came down sharply against my ass.

The smack echoed through the courtyard.

1:19 pm P PTM.

I froze in complete shock.

“So help me, Emily,” he said calmly, squeezing my legs tighter against his shoulder, “if you don’t stop fighting me right now, I’ll make this night much worse for you.”

“I hate you,” I hissed again, weaker this time.

“Liar.”

***

Nathan’s POV

The living room had become a war room days ago. Maps were pinned to the heavy oak table, their edges curled and marked with ink stains and deep claw scratches.

Every cave, mountain pass, and rogue camp we knew of was circled in red. Forgotten whiskey glasses and half–empty coffee cups sat between the piles of paper.

None of us had slept.

My mother sat by the fire, her face looking thin and drained. Liam and Marcus hovered over the maps, their

voices low as they traced old territories.

Blake and Jessie stood by the window, arguing in hushed tones while Poppy clung to Marcus’s side, her face like

paper.

Every few minutes, a new theory was tossed out. Every few minutes, it fell apart.

“The eastern ridge mining tunnels,” Blake muttered, rubbing his eyes. “She could be there.”

Marcus didn’t even look up. “Too open. No cover.”

“What about the caves by the river?” Jessie asked.

I stared at the map until the lines blurred. My mind was stuck on Emily. I kept wondering if he was shivering. If he was bleeding. If she was calling my name in a dark room somewhere while I stood here doing nothing.

Asher was a storm inside my head, his claws digging into my psyche. Find her. Hunt them.

A sharp knock at the door broke the heavy atmosphere. A guard stepped inside, and the second I saw his face, my

blood turned to lead. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify