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 massive–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 cracking.

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 his 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 chest.

“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.

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

“Sorry,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. I kept cleaning the blood as gently as I could. The only sound in the room was his heavy, ragged breathing.

“I have healing powers,” I said softly.

Declan’s eyes lifted to mine, dark and searching. “I know.”

My fingers curled around the bloodstained cloth.

“I could help you,” I whispered, the words tasting like poison. “But this collar…” My hand moved to the cold metal around my throat. “And whatever that witch did to me with that dagger… it’s like my magic is gone. Like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

Anger burned deep in my gut. “I want to heal you. I just can’t.”

-My fingers brushed his bare skin again, moving near the edge of the wound.

A low growl vibrated deep in his chest. It wasn’t a sound of pain; it was something primal.

His hand shot out, his fingers locking around my wrist. He didn’t hurt me, but his grip made me go still.

I could see the wolf waking up behind his eyes, the gold bleeding into the dark.

‘Declan…”

His grip tightened for a heartbeat before he let go, pulling his hand back as if touching me had burned him.

He looked away, his jaw tight.

“Emily,” he said, his voice hoarse and dangerous. “Stop touching me.”

He stood up so fast. Without another word or a single look back, he walked out.

I stood there, alone.

I listened to his footsteps getting distant, fading into the stone hallways.

I should have been terrified of him.

Instead, all I could think about was the way he carried me despite the pain.

Outside, the rain started–a soft, steady drumming against the window glass.