Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Emily’s POV

Hours later, we finally rolled back into our territory.

Or what was left of it.

Black smoke still curled into the sky from the wreckage. Entire rows of houses were nothing but charred wood and ash, and half of the main administrative buildings had completely collapsed. The war had found us, and it had left its mark.

The second our trucks stopped, Blake walked up to us. He looked completely drained and exhausted.

Nathan stepped out of the car first. “Status.”

Blake wiped a hand down his face. “The rogues managed to torch part of the neighborhoods. And half the admin district is completely gone.”

“Dammit,” Nathan snapped, glaring at the ruins. “What about our people?”

“They’re alive,” Blake said, looking wiped out. “Most are just terrified, and we’re still counting the injuries.”

Blake’s eyes drifted toward the cars as the rescued women slowly stepped out. His face fell. “…Alpha.”

Nathan didn’t need him to finish the thought.

“We don’t have the space,” Blake admitted quietly. “We were already short on housing for the refugees from the other packs before this battlefield started.”

I looked across our broken home. Burned houses. Wounded wolves. Refugees everywhere. And somewhere out here, Silas was free.

A surge of pure anger flared up inside me. This wasn’t over.

But right now, we needed to get through today before worrying about tomorrow.

I closed my eyes and reached out with one of my powers, focusing on Blake first. His exhaustion rolled over me. He was completely stressed, terrified, and carrying the weight of everyone on his shoulders.

Carefully, I pushed a wave of warmth back through our bond. I sent him hope, calm, and the quiet certainty that we were going to be okay. Blake blinked in surprise, his shoulders dropping a fraction as he looked at me.

Then I pushed my power farther, across the whole pack, reaching the hundreds of tired wolves around us. I felt their fear, grief, and shock, and I tried to soothe it.

“We’ll get through this,” I whispered. “Just one step at a time.”

The heavy mood over the pack eased a bit. The fear wasn’t gone, but it felt a little easier to handle.

Nathan stood closer to me. A slow smile touched his lips.

“There she is,” he murmured. “My Luna Queen.”

Before I could say anything, a baby started crying somewhere behind us. I looked over at the women rescued from the breeding pens, who were huddled in blankets near the cars.

“…They’re probably starving.”

Nathan followed my gaze.

“I’ll go help Dorothy in the kitchens,” I said. “I’ll grab a few volunteers and we can eat outside.” I looked around at the ruined territory. “And then start rebuilding.”

Nathan wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me against him.

“With you?” He kissed the side of my head. “We’ll rebuild everything.”

For a second, everything felt safe.

A familiar scream cut through the air.

“EMILY!”

Jessie threw her arms around me so hard we almost fell into the dirt. I laughed, hugging her back tightly. A second later, Poppy slammed into us too, sobbing.

“What the Moon Goddess, we thought you were dead!”

“Marcus stayed behind,” I explained, rubbing Poppy’s back. “He and Liam are making sure the rogue castle is secure.”

Poppy pulled back, her posture stiffening. “…So it’s over?”

The question stung. I looked toward the horizon, toward the mountains where the castle sat.

“…No,” I said quietly. “The Rogue King escaped.”

Both girls lost all the color in their faces.

“But listen,” I said before they could panic. “We have crystal barriers now. Real ones. Our defenses are going to be way stronger.”

Jessie swallowed hard. “So what do we do now?”

I forced a smile. “Right now?” I turned toward the kitchen. “We feed people.”

The moment Dorothy saw me walk through the door, she looked like she was about to cry, rushing over to hug me. But when I told her how many hungry wolves we needed to feed, her eyes went wide.

“We’re going to need a lot of help,” Dorothy said, already looking around.

“We can start,” I said, gesturing to Jessie and Poppy. “And Nathan will send more volunteers soon.”

Within minutes, the kitchen turned into total chaos. Huge pots bubbled on the stoves, filling the air with the smell of roasting beef, melted butter, and corn.

Nathan sent more helpers every twenty minutes.

Dorothy was shouting orders, telling people to wash and chop massive sacks of potatoes. A couple of teenagers carried in crates of carrots, while others sliced thick loaves of cornbread and stacked them on platters.

Even some of the rescued rogues joined in, keeping their heads down and chopping vegetables as fast as they could, desperate to be useful.

By midday, the scent of beef stew and warm gravy completely covered the smell of smoke outside.

The dining hall was way too small, so people started dragging furniture out into the yard.

They balanced long wooden boards over barrels for extra counter space. Picnic tables appeared from surviving homes, and wolves carried out mismatched chairs or built rough benches from broken lumber.

Slowly, the pack started to feel alive again.

Hundreds of wolves sat together under the warm sky. Kids played in the grass, and tired mothers finally relaxed, holding sleeping babies.

Nathan pulled me down beside him at the center table, then stood up.

The voices around the yard stopped as everyone looked at him.

“We lost people in this battlefield,” Nathan said, his deep voice carrying easily across the grass. “Good wolves. Family. And we will honor them.”

Everyone watched him, the weight of these days settling over the yard. Nathan looked around at all of us, his eyes resting on the survivors.

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