Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 397

Chapter 397

ZADE

The drive toward Moonridge had been tense from the moment we left back territory. Rivers sat in the passenger seat beside me, his usual easy demeanor replaced with the focused alertness of a warrior preparing for battle. Lyn was in the back with Lynn, maintaining his mental connection with Shawn while his twin monitored his vitals to make sure wasn’t burning himself out. Two of our best guards-Marcus and Theo-followed as well, ready to provide backup if things went sideways.

Which, given our track record lately, seemed almost guaranteed.

“So, Rivers said after we’d been driving for about forty minutes in relive silence, “I’ve been meaning to ask about werewitches. We’ve spent so long shunning all supernaturals that aren’t werewolves, and now we’re discovering they’re way more complicated than we thought.”

I glanced at him, noting the genuine curiosity in his expression. Rivers had always been one of my more progressive advisors-open to change, willing to question tradition. It was part of why I trusted him enough to bring him on this mission.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“Everything, I guess.” He gestured vaguely. “Like, what makes them different from regular witches? Why are some born to werewolf parents? How do their powers work? We’ve been treating them like abominations for centuries without actually understanding what they are.”

From the back seat, I heard Lyn shift. When he spoke, his voice was slightly strained from the mental effort he was expending, but clear enough.

“Telepathy is something all werewitches can do,” he said. “It’s like how wolves can communicate through pack bonds and mental links. We can reach out to other werewitches across distances, share thoughts and memories, coordinate without speaking. It’s one of our core abilities.”

“That’s how you’re talking to Shawn right now,” Rivers said, understanding dawning. “You’re maintaining a mental connection across miles.”

“Exactly,” Lyn confirmed. “Though it’s draining when the distance is this great and the connection isn’t established through familiar bonds. I can do it, but I’ll probably need to sleep for about twelve hours afterward

“No you won’t,” Lynn interjected firmly. “You’ll need to sleep for at least twenty-four hours and let me monitor you for magical burnout. Stop downplaying the strain this is putting on you.”

I caught Lyn’s wry smile in the rearview mirror, the expression so familiar it made my chest warm despite the circumstances.

“Yes, dear sister,” he said with exaggerated obedience.

“Don’t patronize me,” Lynn shot back. “I’m the one who’ll have to put ou back together if you push too hard.”

Rivers was grinning at their banter, but his curiosity clearly wasn’t sasfied. “So telepathy is universal to all werewitches. What else?”

“Individual powers,” Lyn explained. “Every werewitch has at least one pecific ability beyond the telepathy. Sometimes it manifests early, sometimes not until adolescence or later. And the powers vary wildly-the’s no real pattern or predictability to what someone might develop.”

“Like your gravity manipulation,” I said, remembering the first time seen Lyn use his power-the way he’d made attackers float helplessly in the air, completely defenseless against his assault.

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Right, Lyn agreed. I can manipulate gravitational fields around me bake things heavier or lighter, create areas of increased on decreased gravity. It’s particularly useful in combat because most people aren’t preped to suddenly weigh three times their normal weight or find Themselves floating six feet off the ground

And you can self heal, Lynn added proudly. “Which is probably the only reason you survived some of the stupid things you’ve done.”

I prefer to call them calculated risks,” Lyn protested.

You prefer to call them that, Lynn corrected. The rest of

the stupid things.

I felt a laugh bubble up despite the tension of our mission. Their sibl

my territory-the easy affection, the teasing, the absolute certainty that

dynamic was one of my favorite things about having them both in

y’d protect each other no matter what.

“What about Lake? Marcus asked. “Xenols mentioned he has portal alities?”

Lake can create portals, Lyn confirmed, his voice taking on a note of fascination that suggested he’d spent considerable time thinking about the boy’s powers. “Dimensional doorways that let him travel anywhere he’s been before or anywhere he can clearly visualize. It’s an

incredibly rare ability-I’ve only heard of maybe three other werewitches history who could do anything similar.”

“That’s the power that let him escape the facility where he was beingold, I added, remembering Xenois’s explanation of how Lake had manifested his abilities and used them to flee his captors. “Probably saved his life.”

‘Definitely saved his life,” Lyn agreed. “Though we don’t know if he hall other powers yet. Sometimes werewitches develop multiple abilities, sometimes they only ever have one beyond telepathy, Lake’s young enough that more could still emerge.”

“And Shawn?” Rivers asked. “Do we know what his power is?”

“Not yet,” Lyn admitted. “He’s been suppressing his witch side for so long that he might not even know himself. Some werewitches who deny that part of their nature never fully develop their individual abilities the magic gets stunted from lack of use.”

“That’s sad, Rivers said quietly.

“That’s survival,” Lynn corrected, her voice carrying an edge of anger. Shawn had to hide what he was his entire life or risk being killed. His mother taught him to suppress his magic so he could live in werewolferritory without being discovered. You can’t blame someone for choosing to survive.”

“I’m not blaming him,” Rivers said quickly. “I’m blaming the system that made him feel like he had to hide. The prejudices that forced him and his mother to live in fear.”

“Good,” Lynn said, mollified. “Because if you were blaming Shawn, I wis going to throw something at your head.”

“Noted,” Rivers said, though he was smiling. “No victim-blaming or fad the wrath of the protective healer.”

I was about to add something when the road in front of us suddenly ploded.

Not metaphorically. Literally exploded.

A blast of brilliant blue-white energy hit the asphalt maybe twenty te ahead of us, creating a crater that spanned the entire width of the road and sent chunks of concrete flying in every direction.

I slammed on the brakes, the SUV skidding to a halt inches from the smoking crater. Behind us, I heard the cars behind us do the same,

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Chapter 397

stopping just short of rear-ending us.

“What the fuck was that? Rivers demanded, already reaching for his weapon.

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