Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 114

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1:20 pm P PTM

Chapter 114

Nathan’s POV

My Luna. Dead.

The thought tried to take root, but my mind rejected it. No. No. No.

“That’s not her,” I said. The words came out flat, automatic.

Liam looked at me like I’d finally snapped. “Nathan”

“That’s not her.” My lungs were working too hard, pulling in air that tasted like a graveyard. Asher was pacing in

the back of my mind, his teeth bared. That is NOT our mate.

I forced my legs to move, stumbling toward the center of the room. There was so much blood–it was a dark, wet stain spreading across the floor. The air was thick with the scent of iron and rot.

But there were no strawberries. No scent of the forest after rain. No Emily.

I dropped to my knees on the ruined carpet. “That’s not her,” I repeated, my voice sounding like broken glass.

Marcus moved in, crouching beside me with a cautious hand extended. “Nathan… I know you don’t want to

believe this, but look at the hair. The face-”

“No!” I snarled, and the walls of the pack house groaned under the weight of my Alpha command. “That is NOT

ny mate.”

The crying stopped. The room went unnervingly still.

Liam’s brow furrowed. “Nathan…”

“I can’t smell her,” I rasped, my eyes fixed on the floor. “I smell death. I smell old magic. But she isn’t here.”

Blake shifted on his feet, looking between me and the box. Mareus looked at the head again, then back at me, his Expression shifting from pity to doubt. “You think this is a trick?”

“I know it is.” I turned my head toward Blake. “Get the witch.”

Nobody moved.

“Now!” I roared.

Blake bolted out the door.

The minutes that followed felt like they were made of lead. Poppy was a quiet, shaking mess against Marcus. My nother and Jessie sat on the sofa, their faces pale and drawn, avoiding the center of the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Every instinct I had was screaming that Emily was still out there, breathing the same air I was.

The witch arrived breathless, her face losing all color the moment she crossed the threshold. “What is this…” she whispered.

1:20 pm

“Tell me if that’s Emily,” I demanded.

She approached slowly, her boots clicking softly on the hardwood before she hit the carpet. She stopped, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in.

“There,” she murmured.

She pointed to a pale pink ribbon tied around the neck. It was too clean, the knot too perfect for a message of war. She crouched lower, her hands hovering over the silk. “I can feel the hum of a spell on this.”

The room went motionless. The witch poured her power into the ribbon, her fingers glowing with a faint, golden ight. The knot unraveled on its own, sliding off the skin.

The second the silk hit the floor, the illusion dissolved.

The white hair turned dark in a blink. The features shifted and melted like wax under a flame. Gasps echoed hrough the room as the face settled into someone else.

It wasn’t Emily. It was Tessa.

Jessie started sobbing again, but this time it was different. “Oh my Godness…”

Poppy looked like she wanted to be sick. “What kind of monster does this?”

“Nobody deserves that.” Jessie whispered, her voice shaking. “But… Goddess…”

Even Liam looked shaken as he reached down to pick up the blood–soaked box. A folded piece of paper slid out rom a false bottom. He opened it, his face darkening with every word he read.

“What does it say?” Marcus asked.

Liam’s jaw tightened. He read the words aloud, his voice low and grim. “You may satisfy yourself with this one, You’ll never see her again.”

A cold, sharp rage began to fill my veins, replacing the grief with something much more dangerous.

“She belongs to me now.”

The realization hit us all at once.

Then, Asher exploded.

A howl ripped out of me, so loud and violent it felt like the windows would shatter. I didn’t wait. I didn’t think. My bones snapped and reformed, fur bursting through my skin before I even hit the floor.

Iran.

I tore out into the night, my paws thudding against the earth as I headed for the tree line. My howl echoed off the nountains, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony.

She was alive. But someone else had her. Someone else was touching what was mine.

1:20 pm P PTM

Emily’s POV

The next morning, I asked for paper.

The guard outside my door looked confused for a second, but then I heard his boots hitting the stone floor as he walked away. He came back with a few rough sheets and a sharp piece of charcoal.

These were Declan’s orders: Give her whatever she wants.

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