Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 418

Chapter 418

SILVIA

Not that I didn’t love Xenois. Not that I didn’t trust him to mount a brilliant tactical operation.

But Samuel and I had reputations to maintain. We were former alpha and luna who’d survived the territorial wars, who’d built a pack from blood and ash, who’d established peace through overwhelming force and strategic brutality.

Being rescued like helpless victims would diminish that reputation. Our peers-the other former alphas and lunas who remembered those days-would never let us forget it. We’d lose aura points, as the young people said these days. Become the cautionary tale instead of the legendary warriors.

No thank you.

The first lock clicked open. I felt the chain loosen around my wrist and had to suppress a triumphant grin. One down, three to go.

“How’s it going?” Samuel whispered.

“Almost there,” I confirmed, moving to the second lock. “How’s your back?”

“Terrible,” he admitted. “These chains have me sitting at the worst angle. I’m going to need a massage and possibly physical therapy after this.”

“Add it to the list of things Jerome owes us,” I muttered.

The second lock opened. Then the third. Finally, the fourth, and I felt the last chain fall away from my ankles.

Freedom. Painful, silver-burned, elderly freedom, but freedom nonetheless.

I immediately started working on Samuel’s chains, my fingers moving with practiced efficiency despite the burns. He

stayed perfectly still, not making a sound even though I knew the position was agony for his back.

“Almost done,” I whispered. “Just the ankle chains left.”

The argument outside our cell reached a crescendo. I heard Jerome’s voice cutting through the others, insisting he had

verything under control, that the plan was proceeding as expected.

Liar. His plan was falling apart and everyone knew it.

1/4

The final lock clicked open just as footsteps approached our cell. I froze, chains still loosely arranged around Samuel’s ankles to appear secured, and forced my expression into defeated exhaustion.

A different guard peered through the bars-an older nightwalker this time, with the kind of cold calculation that spoke of experience.

“Still alive in there?” he asked mockingly.

“For now,” I said wearily. “Though if we could get some water, that would be appreciated. We’re not as young as we used to be, and dehydration at our age is quite serious.”

The guard studied us for a long moment, then apparently decided we weren’t worth his concern. He moved on, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

“That was close,” Samuel breathed.

“Too close,” I agreed. “We need to move. Now. Before someone notices the chains are unlocked.”

We stood carefully, every joint protesting the movement. I was sixty eight years old and had been sitting in silver chains for hours. Samuel was seventy with chronic back problems. We weren’t exactly in peak physical condition for a daring escape.

But we’d survived worse. We’d fought in wars, killed enemies, built empires. We could handle a simple prison break.

I hoped.

Samuel and I had reputations. We were the former Alpha and Luna who’d survived the territorial wars, who’d built one of the strongest packs in the region, who’d been feared and respected in equal measure. Gerting captured was already bad enough we were losing credibility points by the hour with our peers. But being rescued like helpless victims who couldn’t

their own escape?

That would be devastating to our standing in the supernatural community.

No. We were getting out of this ourselves. Let Xenois find an empty cell when he arrived. Let everyone know that Samuel and Silvia Blackwood didn’t need rescuing-we were perfectly capable of handling our own problems, thank you very much.

We moved silently toward the cell door, which had been left slightly ajar by the last guard who’d brought us water. Another amateur mistake. You always secure your prisoners completely, especially when said prisoners were known for being dangerously competent.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit and relatively empty-most of the coalition seemed to be in whatever room they were sing for their argument. We could still hear voices echoing through the stone corridors, angry and increasingly panicked.

2/4

Three guards stood at intervals along the hall, but they were distracted by the shouting, their attention divided. Samuel and I exchanged a look-a conversation conducted entirely through forty-three years of marriage and shared combat experience.

He’d take the first two. I’d handle the third. Non-lethal if possible-we wanted escape, not a massacre that would justify their revenge narrative-but we weren’t going to be gentle either.

We moved.

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