Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Emily’s PUV

“She needs to stay untouched,” Declan said, his voice as sharp as a blade. “We need her whole for the trials.”

“We?” Silas roared, his Rogue King’s power flooding the room. The glass in the windows rattled. “You forget your

place, boy.”

Declan didn’t move. He didn’t bow or look away. He stood his ground while the room shook.

“She is the key,” he said again, stepping closer.

Silas’s face twisted, turning into something monstrous.

“She belongs to me!” Silas screamed. “Everything here belongs to mer

Then the air ripped.

Massive red fur exploded from Silas’s skin as he shifted mid–air.

I screamed, pressing myself against the wall.

Declan shifted a second later.

Brown fur flashed as his wolf slammed into the Rogue King. The force of the hit splintered the bed, wood flying

everywhere.

The room turned into a blur of teeth and fur. Furniture/shattered as they tore into each other. The red wolf was nassive–a giant compared to any rogue I’d seen—but Declan was faster.

He ducked under snapping jaws and drove his shoulder into the King’s ribs, a hit that sounded like a mountain

!racking.

Silas roared, a sound that rattled my very bones.

Declan lunged for his throat. The red wolf twisted, his teeth sinking deep into Declan’s shoulder instead.

I gasped, but Declan didn’t even flinch. He slammed Silas into the wall with so much violence the stone cracked.

For one heartbeat, everything stopped.

Declan’s jaws were inches from his father’s throat. The room went cold. The red wolf’s glowing eyes locked onto

is son’s.

Then something changed.

I think Silas spoke through the mind link.

Declan froze. His ears flattened, and his body went stiff. Something in his eyes just… broke. It wasn’t fear. It was raw, jagged pain.

Slowly, the brown wolf stepped back.

-Sttas shifted first. The transformation was ugly–bones popping and clicking as he turned back into a man. He stood there looking like a monster wearing human skin.

Declan followed, shifting seconds later. Blood poured from the wound on his shoulder, carving red lines down his

:hest.

“You’re alive because I allow it,” the Rogue King hissed. “Never forget that.”

Declan’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

Silas turned to me. His eyes were burning. For a second, I thought he was coming back to finish what he started.

Instead, he growled. “Get her out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Declan turned toward me. He looked exhausted. His body was covered in blood, and he walked with a limp.

He stood in front of me and reached out his hand.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.”

I looked at Declan’s hand and tried to stand up, but my legs were like lead. The floor tilted again.

Declan saw it immediately.

Before I could fall, he leaned down and lifted me into his arms. He made a small sound–a grunt of pain from his njuries–but his grip was firm. He held me tight against his chest.

He walked out of the room without looking back.

He carried me away from the monster who called himself king.

I didn’t realize how fast Declan was moving until the roar of the Cage finally died away.

My head rested against his chest. I could hear his heart—it was fast and loud.

He carried me through dark hallways and up endless stairs. Every few steps, his grip tightened.

Finally, he kicked a door open.

He carried me into my tower room and set me down on the bed. The moment he let go, his knees almost gave out.

‘Declan-”

“I’m fine,” he bit out.

He wasn’t. Blood was still running down his shoulder, staining the floor. In the candlelight, his skin looked gray.

I looked at the mess of his shoulder. “You need help.”

5:03 pm

“I said I’m fine.”

His voice was rough, like gravel.

He turned away and pressed one hand against the wall to steady himself. He tried to straighten up quickly, hoping

I wouldn’t see him stumble.

But I saw everything.

I grabbed a clean cloth from the table and walked toward him.

“Emily,” he warned.

“Sit down,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “That sounded like an order.”

“Maybe you deserve one for once.”

I waited for him to snap at me, to show that pride. Instead, a tiny spark of something–maybe amusement- lashed in his eyes before it vanished.

Slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed.

I stepped into his space. Up close, he smelled of blood, smoke, and something deep and wild. The wound was

leep.

“You’re still bleeding,” I whispered.

“I noticed,” he rasped.

I dipped the cloth into the bowl of water.

The water turned pink immediately. When I pressed the cold cloth against the cut, Declan hissed, his body urning rigid under my touch.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

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