Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 407

Chapter 407

XENOIS

My blood turned to ice. Beside me, I saw Zade tense, clearly picking up on my reaction through body language and scent.

“What do you want?” I asked, keeping my voice level even as my wolfowled with rage.

“Oh, this isn’t a negotiation call,” Jerome said pleasantly. “This is more of a… courtesy. A chance for you to see your parents one last time before we proceed with justice. I’m sending a video connection request now. I suggest you accept it.”

The phone buzzed with an incoming video call notification. I looked at Zade, who nodded grimly. We moved quickly to my office, everyone following. I set up my laptop to receive the call on a larger screen so everyone could see.

When I accepted the connection, the image that appeared made my heart stop.

It was unmistakably a cell-stone walls, minimal lighting, the kind of place designed to break prisoners through sheer bleakness. And in the center of the frame, sitting on crude wooden chairs, were my parents!

Samuel and Silvia Blackwood. Former alpha and luna. My father and mother.

They were chained-silver shackles on their wrists and ankles that would prevent shifting and burn werewolf skin. I could see bruises on my father’s face, blood dried at the corner of my mother’s mouth. They’d clearly been beaten, interrogated, possibly tortured.

But what struck me most was their expressions.

They weren’t cowering. Weren’t begging for mercy or showing any of the fear I’d expect from prisoners facing enemies seeking revenge.

Instead, my mother looked annoyed. Like someone had interrupted he while she was busy with something far more important.

Jerome’s voice came through the speakers. “Alpha Blackwood, your pants would like to speak with you. I suggest you pay attention to what they have to say. Their lives depend on your cooperation.”

He moved slightly, and I could see him better now-an older nightwalker, probably centuries old, with the kind of cold elegance that spoke of ancient power. He gestured to my parents with a theatrical flourish.

“Please, tell your son what we want. Or die. Your choice.”

My mother looked at my father with an expression of such pure exasperation that I almost laughed despite the circumstances.

“Samuel,” she said, her voice carrying perfectly through the connection, “did you grab my makeup before they threw us in here? I can’t let

my wrinkles show on camera.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then my father started laughing genuine, belly-deep laughter that seemed completely inappropriate for someone who was supposed to be terrified for his life.

Silvia, he managed between gasps, “next time I’ll tell the nightwalker to take five and let me get what you need. Perhaps they’ll be kind enough to schedule their kidnappings around your beauty routine.”

“That would be appreciated,” my mother said primly. Then she turned o glare at Jerome. “Young man, your timing is absolutely terrible.

III

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Chapter 40/

And your fashion sense is even worse. Who pairs tactical gear with formal boots? Have you no aesthetic sensibility?”

I stared at the screen, my brain struggling to process what I was witnessing. My parents were being held prisoner by enemies seeking revenge, and my mother was critiquing their captor’s clothing choices.

Jerome’s expression had shifted from confident superiority to confused irritation. “This is not a joke-

“Of course it’s not a joke,” my mother interrupted. “Jokes are funny. Your outfit is just sad. Honestly, if you’re going to kidnap former pack

leaders and make dramatic ransom demands, at least dress for the occasion

Samuel was laughing so hard now that he could barely breathe, his face turning red from lack of oxygen. My mother glanced at him with

concern.

“Samuel, if your asthma is acting up again, now is not the time. You cannot die and leave me here alone. I refuse to be a widow because you couldn’t control your breathing.”

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