Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 394

Chapter 394

LYN

I was staring at the same medical report I’d been pretending to read for the past hour when Zade walked into my office. I didn’t need to look up to know it was him-the mate bond hummed with his presence, wm and concerned and entirely too perceptive for my current state of

mind.

“You left two meetings to check on me?” I asked, finally raising my eyes from the meaningless text I’d been using as a shield against my own thoughts.

“Three, actually,” Zade corrected, closing the door behind him and leasing against it with that casual confidence that still made my heart skip even after months together. “But who’s counting? You’ve been broadcasting worry through the bond for hours, Lyn. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said automatically, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Just busy. Lots of patients, lots of paperwork, the usual hospital

chaos.

Zade’s eyebrow rose in that way that said he wasn’t buying it for a second. He moved closer, coming around my desk to perch on the edge of it, invading my space in the way only a mate could get away with.

“Try again,” he said gently. “And this time, maybe with actual honesty Because I can feel your anxiety from across the territory, and it’s making me want to hunt down whatever’s threatening you and eliminate it So unless you want me going full territorial alpha on some imaginary problem, you might want to tell me what’s really bothering you

I opened my mouth to deflect again, to manufacture some believable concern about patient care or pack politics or literally anything other than the conversation I’d been avoiding since Lynn had cornered me days go about male werewitch pregnancy and wheth

tell my mate about that particular biological possibility.

But before I could form the words, something slammed into my mind.

was ever going to

Not physically-nothing touched my body. But mentally, psychically, something or someone was trying to force their way into my consciousness with the kind of desperate urgency that spoke of genuine emergency.

I gasped, my hands flying to my temples as I instinctively tried to block the intrusion. Only werewitches could do this-could reach out mind-to-mind across distances, could communicate telepathically when magic and need aligned properly. It was one of the abilities that made us so valuable and so feared, this capacity to bypass normal communication channels entirely.

“Lyn?” Zade’s voice sharpened with alarm, his hand immediately going to my shoulder. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

I held up a hand, asking for silence while I assessed the intrusion. It wasn’t an attack-I’d been trained to recognize mental attacks, and this didn’t carry that particular signature of malice or intent to harm. This felt more like… desperation. Like someone drowning and reaching for the only lifeline they could find.

Carefully, cautiously, I lowered my mental shields enough to allow the connection.

Immediately, a voice flooded my consciousness-young, male, absoluty frantic with fear and confusion.

Luna Lyn? Luna Lyn, please, If you can hear me, I need help. I don’t know why else to reach, I don’t have a phone, I don’t know where I am, and they took them, they took Samuel and Silvia and left me and I don’t know if they’re alive and-

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Slow down, I projected back, trying to inject calm into the mental connection even as my own heart rate spiked with alarm. Who is this? Who

took Samuel and Silvia?

It’s Shawn, the voice said, and with the name came a flood of associated images and memories that helped me place him. Shawn Mora. I was with the Blackwoods, I’ve been staying with them since the whole Shadow Citrescue thing, and we were traveling to Moonridge when we got attacked

and-

Shawn, I interrupted, because the kid was spiraling and someone needed you. You’re the werewolf that Xenois rescued from Shadow City, right? The of

impose order before he dissolved into complete panic. I remember who was about to be executed for trespassing?

There was a pause, then something that felt like shame and resignation flowing through our connection.

Not exactly, Shawn admitted. I mean, yes, that’s me, but I’m not actually a werewolf. I’m a werewitch. I just… I’ve been hiding that part of myself for most of my life.

I blinked, processing that revelation while Zade watched me with increasing concern, clearly able to sense something was happening but not privy to the actual mental conversation.

Explain, I said simply. And quickly, because if Samuel and Silvia Blackwood ave been taken, we need to move fast.

The story that came through our connection was fragmented but coherent enough to piece together. Shawn had been raised by his mother in werewolf territory, but she’d been a werewolf and her son, unclaimed by any wolf in that pack, was a werewitch-something she’d hidden from their pack out of necessity and survival instinct. When Shawn’s own magical abilities had started manifesting around puberty, she’d taught him to suppress them, to present as a pure werewolf, to stay off any kind of supernatural radar that might identify him as something other than what he claimed.

She died six months ago, Shawn’s mental voice carried grief that was still raw and fresh. Cancer. The regular kind, not anythi after she was gone, I had nothing keeping me in pack territory. No family, no friends who knew the truth, no reason to keep hi to Shadow City.

Why Shadow City? I asked, though I had a feeling I knew the answer.

pernatural. And

o I decided to go

Because I’d heard rumors that it was a safe haven for supernatural outcasts, $hawn explained. That there were vampires and witches and all kinds of beings who lived there, free from harm or killings by werewolves. I thought. I thought maybe I could finally be myself. Stop pretending to be something I wasn’t.

The irony wasn’t lost on me-Shawn had gone to Shadow City seeking the very thing that Zade and Xenois were trying to build in their own territories. Acceptance for supernatural individuals regardless of their specific nature or abilities.

But you were scented as a werewolf, I said, understanding now why Xenois and his team had identified him as such.

My mother scented me right before she died, Shawn confirmed, and the memory that came with those words was painful-a dying woman using her last moments to mark her son with pack scent, giving him one final lor of protection by making him smell like a traditional werewolf rather than a werewitch. I couldn’t bring myself to wash it off immediately. felt like losing the last piece of her. So when I arrived in Shadow City, 1 still carried her scent, and everyone assumed I was a pure werewolf.

And werewolves weren’t exactly welcome in Shadow City, I finished.

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