His Miracle Luna-the Forsaken Lycan Queen novel Chapter 159

Chapter 159

Elena’s POV

The grief and pain I had felt when I thought Rafael died in that massacre is nothing compared to the agony striking my chest now.

I want to leap with joy at seeing him alive, but the knowledge that he has been poisoned and suffering all these years cuts deeper than any blade.

I try to sleep, but peace never comes. Each time I close my eyes, darkness drags me into nightmares.

Cold sweats. Screams. That’s how I wake. Always, Deacon is there–his strong arms pulling me close, his warmth wrapping me against the chill of despair.

“Rafael?” I whisper the same question every time the nightmares rip me awake.

Deacon wipes my tears, presses a kiss to my forehead, and murmurs the same steady answer. “He’s fine.”

For days, I have been consumed by raw grief. But grief slowly hardens into resolve. I cannot simply cry. I need to act. I need to give Rafael justice.

And the first step is to place him back where he belongs–recognised as a legitimate member of my family, my pack.

That means facing the Lycan King, King Desmond.

After a week, when Rafael’s condition stabilises, Dr. Aris gives him a mild sedative so he can rest. His wounds are healing, and though still thin and wary, he looks stronger than when we found him. Proper food and care have begun to work their small miracles.

Deacon and I take him to the royal palace.

The King’s office is as grand as ever, the scent of old wood and quiet authority hanging in the air. King Desmond sits at his desk, eyes scanning piles of reports, while Queen Celine reads on the couch nearby.

I steady myself and speak while holding firmly to Rafael’s hand, who was hiding behind me. “Your Majesties, this is Rafael. My nephew. Xavier’s SOYL

The room stills. Their eyes looked our way with shock and questions.

Queen Celine gasped, her books sliding off her hands and onto the couch before her hand raised to cover her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. She took in Rafael’s gaunt frame, the scars peeking out from his too- large shirt.

While Queen Celine showed an emotional response, King Desmond’s expression was firmer. The pity that flashed briefly before in his eyes now settled into something cautions, calculating even.

“Elena,” he said, voice sounding deep and weighted.

He had us seated on the couch opposite the Queen while he stood up and sat on the single sofa that’s on the head of the coffee table before continuing, “We are sorry for the boy’s suffering. But this… this is unexpected. After all these years, to bring a child back from such a tragedy… it raises questions. Are you certain of his lineage? And are you prepared for the implications?”

Based on his reaction, I’d say he was already informed of what happened. At least, the basics like the fact that I had already found my nephew, and what situation we found him in

Of course, it wasn’t a surprise at all. He’s the king, and as expected, news and gossip travel faster than plague.

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His gaze lingers, a subtle warning. As though my grief clouds my judgment or worse, that Rafael’s return could destabilize everything

Before 1 could answer, Deacon shifted from his seat, a bit forward. His hand settled firmly on my hand that’s on my lap in a protective and unyielding manner.

“With all due respect, King Desmond,” Deacon said, his voice edged with steel. “Elena’s certainty is absolute. And as for implications–she is my fiancée. Her family is my family. We are prepared.”

His words were so firm, and his eyes were glinting with conviction. It’s a silent declaration that he’d face this with me as a man, a mate, and even as a member of the royal family.

The air thickens. King Desmond narrows his eyes, meeting his brother’s stare. And.. an unspoken challenge hummed between them.

Then Queen Celine’s voice cuts through, soft but firm. “He is a child, Desmond. A survivor. He needs protection, not interrogation.”

Her rebuke softened him. Slowly, the King inclines his head. “Very well. He will be protected. Dr. Aris has our full support in his recovery.”

I almost raised my eyebrows. Great! He even knew about Dr. Aris. I guess there’s nothing anyone could hide from a King.

The next day, with the King’s cautious blessing, we set out for StoneMoon Pack–Rafael’s maternal family. The journey was heavy with anticipation. Hillary, Rafael’s mother and my sister–in–law, had been beloved. Her death–and Xavier’s–left a wound that never healed, both to me and to many people.

At the border, the warriors eye us with suspicion.

“A child? From the massacre?” one scoffs. “Impossible.”

Inside the main hall, Alpha Mark and Luna Kate, Hillary’s parents and Rafael’s grandparents, await us. Alpha Mark stood stiff, arms crossed, eyes sharp with cold suspicion. Meanwhile, Luna Kate, who was usually warm, looks fragile, her grief etched deep.

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I’ve only seen them a few times, but it’s saddening to see the changes that are vivid in the complexion of their faces. It’s been years, but like me, the pain and grief were still visible in their eyes.

“Elena,” Mark uttered flatly, “to bring us false hope is cruel.”

“It is not false hope,” I replied, my voice firm. I step aside, revealing Rafael as he clings to my leg. “This is yo grandson. Hillary and Xavier’s son.”

Rafael peeked out from behind me. The moonlight catches his face, highlighting the wild dark hair that mirrors Hillary’s, the guarded eyes, the mingled scents of both his parents clinging faintly to him.

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