Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 27

I stopped immediately. “How is Emily?”

“She’s the same. No change.”

My jaw tightened.

“But she isn’t getting worse,” Reed added quickly. “That’s good. Very good.”

No worse. I could survive that. Barely.

“I tried to reach you every hour during the night,” Reed continued. “But the mind link wouldn’t go through.”

“Keep updating me,” I snapped, cutting the link. I needed a shower, clean clothes, and a way to stop imagining Emily falling.

Two hours later, I was in the car with my father and Liam. My father said very little, and Liam kept glancing at me like he was afraid I might jump out of the moving vehicle and run back to the clinic. He wasn’t wrong.

During the five-hour drive to Crystal Waters pack, Doctor Reed contacted me five times. Every hour, exactly as ordered. Each update was the same—no change, no worse, still unconscious. Every report carved another piece out of me. By the time we arrived, my control was hanging by a thread.

Marcus met us near the entrance to the temporary command post. He didn’t joke, which told me how serious the situation was. He greeted my father first, then me, then Liam. “Everyone’s inside.”

The command post was a massive military tent set near the edge of Crystal Waters pack. Representatives from every pack bordering the destroyed territory had already arrived. If every pack in the kingdom had been summoned, this tent wouldn’t have been nearly large enough. Normally, meetings of this scale took place once a year inside the Royal Assembly Hall. This wasn’t normal.

I counted roughly fifteen Alphas and nearly as many Betas. We exchanged greetings and handshakes before taking our seats. The moment everyone settled, my father stood.

“As you all know, a tragedy has occurred.” The Alpha King looked across the tent. “In the past, rogue attacks were isolated incidents, like a patrol, a family, or sometimes a small border settlement. But never an entire pack.”

Murmurs spread through the tent. An older Alpha with silver hair leaned forward. Brandon. “What could have caused this?”

My father looked toward Marcus. “We have a theory. Marcus, please.”

Marcus stood, getting straight to the point without his usual long speeches. “The Rogue King is injured. He is searching for a powerful Luna capable of restoring his strength, healing him, and extending his life.”

For a second, nobody moved. Then Brandon scoffed. “That’s impossible. There’s no such thing in nature.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m saying if such a thing existed, we would all know about it,” Brandon replied, gesturing around the room as several Alphas nodded. “Where did this information come from?”

“We captured a rogue,” Marcus said, his jaw tightening.

Someone from the back gave a bitter laugh. “And rogues never lie?”

“This one couldn’t.”

Brandon’s eyes sharpened. “What does that mean?”

Marcus looked like he hated every word he was about to say. “A witch helped with the interrogation.”

The reaction was immediate. Disapproval moved through the tent like a cold wind. Even I looked at Marcus with a frown. The witches were not forbidden, not exactly, but wolves didn’t trust them. They bent nature, twisted what the Moon Goddess created, and their magic always came with a price.

Marcus ignored the stares. “The rogue was compelled to tell the truth. He also revealed something else. The Rogue King is not a title passed from one leader to another.”

Brandon frowned. “What is he, then?”

“The same one. The same Rogue King for centuries. And possibly the first rogue.” Marcus’s voice lowered.

That finally shook them. Questions exploded from every direction.

“How is that possible?”

“Why didn’t we know?”

“How could he survive that long?”

Marcus waited until the noise faded. “Because none of us have survived long enough to meet him twice.”

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