Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 390

Chapter 390

SILVIA

Movement in the darkness beyond the bars. Then figures emerged-the of them, staying just out of reach but close enough to be visible

in the dim light.

Two nightwalkers, their pale skin almost glowing in the shadows. And one werewitch, her hands crackling with residual magic.

“The prisoner awakens, the female nightwalker said mockingly. “How ice. I was worried the wolfsbane dose had been too high.”

“Where is my mate?” I demanded, struggling against the chains. “Wha have you done with Samuel?”

“Your mate is alive,” the male nightwalker said. “For now. He’s in another cell, similarly restrained. Whether he stays alive depends entirely

on your cooperation.”

“Cooperation?” I laughed, the sound harsh and dangerous. “You think m going to cooperate with the people who ambushed and kidnapped me? The people who are using me as leverage against my son?”

“We think you’re going to be reasonable,” the werewitch said. “Because the alternative is watching your mate suffer. We know how mate bonds work, Former Luna. We know that hurting him hurts you. So unless you want to experience every moment of his torture, you’ll sit down, shut up, and wait for further instructions.”

I stared at her, letting my wolf show in my eyes. Letting her see exactly what I’d been, what I was still capable of being despite decades of

relative peace.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” I said quietly, my voice dropping to something deadly. “No idea who you’re threatening.”

“Oh, we know exactly who you are,” the female nightwalker said. “Silvi Blackwood, the Blood Luna. That’s what they called you during the wars, wasn’t it? Because you didn’t just defeat your enemies-you made examples of them. You left bodies displayed on borders as warnings. You burned nests and dens and covens to ensure nobody forgot what happened when you crossed the Blackwood pack.”

She moved closer to the bars, her expression twisted with old hatred.

“My nest was one of the ones you burned. I was barely twenty years old, newly turned, and you burned my entire family alive because one of our elders made the mistake of hunting on Blackwood territory. You didn’t investigate, didn’t ask questions, didn’t give us a chance to make

reparations. You just… destroyed us.”

Memory flickered-a nest in the northern territory, nightwalkers who’d been taking pack members as food sources. We’d tracked them, found evidence of multiple kills, and made the decision that they were too dangerous to leave operational.

I’d led that raid personally, Had ensured none escaped.

I hadn’t known there were young ones. Newly turned individuals who might not have even participated in the kills.

I’d burned them anyway.

“That was war,” I said, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears. “We did what was necessary to protect our pack.”

“That was genocide,” the werewitch corrected coldly. “And you did it over and over again. Different nests, different covens, different packs

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Chapter 390

who dared challenge Blackwood authority. You weren’t defending territory you were establishing dominance through terror.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that they didnt understand the ontext, the threats we’d faced, the impossible choices we’d made to

ensure survival.

But looking at their faces-at the hatred and the pain and the old wounds that had never healed-1 realized they were right.

Not about the kidnapping, not about using me as leverage. But about the terror part.

Samuel and I had ruled through fear as much as strength. We’d made sure everyone knew that crossing the Blackwood pack meant total destruction. And we’d justified it by telling ourselves we were protecting our people, creating deterrence, establishing peace through

overwhelming force.

We’d been monsters. Well-intentioned monsters who believed the ends justified the means, but monsters nonetheless.

“So this is revenge,” I said flatly. “You’re going to torture and kill me to balance the scales for what I did forty years ago.”

“Not just you,” the male nightwalker said.

“Though your suffering will certainly factor in. No, this is about stopping history from repeating. Your son is trying to dismantle the power structures you established. He’s creating a world where enhanced individuals and werewitches and nightwalkers might have equal standing with

traditional pack werewolves. Where the old hierarchies don’t apply.”

He paused, his expression hardening.

“We can’t allow that. Because if those structures fall, if Xenois succeeds in creating his progressive paradise, what’s to stop him from deciding we’re threats? What’s to stop him from doing exactly what you did-eliminating anyone who opposes his vision of how things should

be?

“Xenois would never-” I started.

“You said the same thing about yourself once,” the werewitch interrupted. “I’m sure of it. You probably told yourself you were different, better, more justified than the warlords who came before you. But given enough threat, enough pressure, enough fear for your pack’s survival- you became exactly what you fought against.”

She had a point. I hated that she had a point, but she did.

Because Samuel and I had done terrible things. And we’d done them while telling ourselves we were protecting our people, creating safety,

building something better.

Just like these people were doing now.

The irony was not lost on me.

“So what’s your plan?” I asked, forcing myself to think strategically inead of emotionally. “Keep me prisoner until Xenois agrees to maintain the old power structures? Threaten to kill me if he continues his reforms?”

“Something like that,” the male nightwalker agreed. “Though we’re open to negotiation. Your son agrees to reinstate traditional hierarchies, to remove the enhanced children from positions of potential pack leadership, to limit werewitch influence, and to acknowledge the old territorial agreements-you and your mate go free. Everyone gets what they want.”

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Chapter 390

‘Except my grandsons,” I said quietly. “Who you want removed from their home and family.”

“They’re weapons,” the werewitch said bluntly. “Enhanced individuals feated by a facility that turned supernaturals into tools of war. They don’t belong in pack leadership any more than I belong in nightwalker nests. It’s not prejudice-it’s common sense.”

I felt my wolf surge, rage temporarily overriding caution. I lunged forward, the chains catching me short but my momentum enough to slam into the bars with enough force to make them rattle.

“Those children are my grandsons,” I snarled, my voice dropping to something barely human. “Whatever they were created to be, they’re family now. And if you think I’m going to cooperate with anyone threatening them, you’re even stupider than I thought.”

The three captors stepped back instinctively, recognizing the danger of a cornered, enraged Luna despite the chains and the drugs.

“Careful, the male nightwalker warned. “Remember what we said about your mate-*