Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422

SILVIA

“Samuel,” I said slowly. “Do you remember the explosion technique from the territorial wars? The one we swore we’d never use again because it was too dangerous?”

His eyes widened. “Silvia, no. That technique nearly killed us last time we used it. And that was when we were in our thirties and at peak physical condition.”

“Do you have a better idea?” I challenged.

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. “No,” he admitted. “I really don’t.”

“Then it’s explosion technique time,” I decided.

“If we die doing this-” Samuel started.

“Then we die together,” I finished. “After forty-three years of marriage. Honestly, there are worse ways to go.”

“I can think of several better ways,” he muttered, but he was already positioning himself for the technique, his hands moving through the preparatory gestures we’d learned decades ago from a particularly violent alpha who’d taught us his most dangerous tactics.

The explosion technique was simple in theory: channel all your remaining werewolf energy into a single burst, creating a shockwave that would temporarily incapacitate anyone within a fifteen-foot radius. In practice, it was incredibly dangerous, especially for older werewolves whose energy reserves weren’t what they used to be.

We could very easily kill ourselves attempting it.

But we were surrounded, weaponless, and running out of options.

So explosion technique it was.

“On three?” Samuel asked.

“On three,” I confirmed.

“One,” I counted.

rome raised his hand, magic crackling around his fingers. “Surrender now and I’ll make your deaths quick.”

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“Two, Samuel continued.

“Or continue resisting and I’ll make sure your son watches you suffer for days before you finally expire.”

“Three,” we said together.

And we released everything we had.

The shockwave exploded outward from us, a visible ripple of pure werewolf energy that slammed into Jerome and his coalition with the force of a physical blow. Bodies flew backward, crashing into walls and each other. Someone screamed. Glass shattered somewhere.

And Samuel and I collapsed.

I hit the stone floor hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. My entire body felt like it was on fire-every cell burning from the energy expenditure. My vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges.

Beside me, Samuel was gasping like a fish out of water, his face alarmingly pale.

“That,” he wheezed, “was possibly the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

“It worked though,” I pointed out, though my voice came out as barely more than a whisper.

“Did in?” Samuel asked. “Because I can’t move and we’re still in the middle of enemy territory.”

He had a point.

Around us, our enemies were starting to recover. The shockwave had bought us maybe thirty seconds, but that was all.

ty I could see Jerome pushing himself upright, blood streaming from his nose but his eyes burning with rage.

“Cam you stand?” I asked Samuel.

“No,” he admitted. “Can you?”

“Also mo,,” I said.

We looked at each other and started laughing-slightly hysterical laughter born of exhaustion and pain and the absurdity

of our staİKONT

e going to die in a hallway, Samuel observed.

her escaping our cell, stealing intelligence, and knocking out a dozen supernatural beings with a technique we learned

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in 1985,” I added. “As far as deaths go, it’s not the worst.”

“Not the best either,” he countered.

“True.

Jerome was fully upright now, stalking toward us with murder in his eyes. “That was your last mistake.”

“Actually,” I said conversationally, despite the fact that I was lying on the floor unable to move, “our last mistake was probably getting captured in the first place. Everything since then has been tactical improvisation.”

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