Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 419

Chapter 419

SILVIA

We stood in the corridor now, free from our cell but far from safety. Voices still echoed from deeper in the complex- Jerome’s coalition still arguing about their failing plan.

“Which way?” Samuel asked.

“Away from the arguing,” I decided. “Toward what I hope is an exit.”

We moved down the corridor with what I generously called stealth and what Samuel would probably describe as ‘elderly people trying not to make noise and failing.’ Every step seemed to echo. Every breath sounded deafening.

But we made progress. Past empty cells, past storage rooms, past what looked like some kind of planning area with maps spread across tables.

“Wait,” Samuel said, stopping at the planning room. “We should grab intelligence. Maps, documents, anything that shows what Jerome’s coalition was planning.”

“Samuel, we’re escaping,” I hissed. “This is not the time for reconnaissance.”

“This is exactly the time,” he countered. “When else are we going to have access to their operational headquarters? Five minutes could give Xenois everything he needs to dismantle this coalition.”

He had a point. Damn him for having a point when I wanted to argue.

“Fine,” I conceded. “But make it quick. My knees aren’t getting any younger while we stand here debating.”

Samuel moved into the planning room, his hands moving quickly over documents and maps. I kept watch at the door, every sense alert for approaching footsteps or voices.

“Silvia,” Samuel called softly. “You need to see this.”

I turned to find him holding a document-some kind of list with names and locations.

“This is a target list,” he said, his voice grim. “Jerome wasn’t just planning to kidnap us. This is a coordinated attack on ultiple progressive pack leaders. Zade’s on here. That female alpha in Colorado who accepted fae refugees. The werewitch

in Oregon who’s been advocating for integration.”

My blood ran cold. “This wasn’t about revenge for the territorial wars. This was about stopping progressive movement

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across the entire region.”

“Using us as the opening move, Samuel agreed. “Kidnap the Blackwood elders, force Xenois to either compromise his values or watch us die. Either way, it sends a message to other progressive leaders: change will cost you everything you love.”

“Jerome’s more ambitious than I gave him credit for,” I muttered. “And more dangerous. We need to get this information to Xenois immediately.”

Samuel started photographing documents with a phone he’d apparently stolen from somewhere-when had he done that? -while I continued keeping watch.

That’s when I heard it. Footsteps. Multiple sets, moving quickly.

“Samuel,” I said urgently. “We need to go. Now.”

He grabbed the most important-looking documents, shoving them inside his shirt, and we ran.

Well. “Ran” was a generous term. We moved as quickly as two people in their late sixties could manage, which was somewhere between “brisk walk” and “geriatric sprint.”

“My back, Samuel gasped after about thirty seconds. “Oh god, my back.”

“Push through it, I commanded, grabbing his arm to help support his weight. “You can complain about your back when we’re not being chased by homicidal nightwalkers.”

Behind us, I heard shouts. They’d discovered our escape.

We picked up speed-relatively speaking-taking turns at random, trying to create enough distance and confusion that our pursuers would lose our trail.

“This would be easier if we could shift,” Samuel panted.

“The silver poisoning is still in our system,” I reminded him. “We’d probably manage a partial shift at best, and that would

just make us easier to track by scent.”

“I hate being old,” Samuel complained.

hate being unable to shift,” I corrected. “You were perfectly happy being old when it meant we could retire and

“That was before I knew retirement would include kidnapping and prison breaks!”

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We rounded another corner and found ourselves facing a dead end. Behind us, footsteps were getting closer. We were trapped.

“Well,” I said philosophically, “this is suboptimal.”

“That’s one word for it,” Samuel agreed, already positioning himself to fight despite his back pain and our general lack of

weapons.

I scanned our surroundings, looking for anything that could be used defensively. Stone walls, minimal lighting, and absolutely nothing useful.

“In here, Samuel said, as we turned back, going the other way, hoping it would lead to an exit.

Getting old was absolutely undignified.

We pushed through what looked like a storage area, past crates and supplies that suggested this nest had been preparing for a siege. Smart of them, really. Less smart was not anticipating that their prisoners might actually escape on their own.

We changed direction, our pace slowing as exhaustion and drugs caught up with us.

“Left here,” I whispered, pulling Samuel down a narrower corridor that sloped upward. “I can smell fresh air.”

“I can smell my own failure,” Samuel muttered, but he followed without hesitation.

“Silvia, Samuel said, his voice carrying resignation, “I think we’re going to have to fight.”

We’d made it maybe fifty feet when alarms started blaring-loud, piercing sounds that-echoed through the stone tunnels and made my sensitive ears ring.

und the guards,” I said unnecessarily.

‘Or noticed we were gone,” Samuel added. “Either way, we need to move faster.”

Faster was relative when you were elderly werewolves with injuries and silver burns and lungs that weren’t quite processing oxygen correctly. But we tried, breaking into what might generously be called a jog and what Samuel would

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