Reclaimed By My Alpha (Natalia and Andrei) novel Chapter 382

Chapter 382

Natalia’s POV

The silence that followed in the wake of the battle was so much worse than the noise of the battle itself.

The battle had already been over for an hour, maybe more. The sounds of fighting above us had faded, then stopped entirely, but we couldn’t be certain it was safe to leave the catacombs until Mila came stumbling down the stairs.

She was breathless and covered in blood, and the sound of her footsteps broke through the deadly silent cavern. Her eyes flicked to the three dead rogues, which I and some of the others had moved to a secluded area out of sight of the children, then she looked at the knife at my hip.

Mila didn’t ask what happened to the rogues. She could see it in my eyes–that visceral, angry hunger.

She simply nodded. “It’s done.”

The tension immediately slipped from my shoulders, so intense I thought I might collapse. The battle was over. We had won.

Or so I thought.

When I emerged from the catacombs and took in the wreckage, I realized that the only thing we had come out of this battle with was our lives.

The house was destroyed. The air smelled of the tang of blood and death and smoke. The grand hall was not grand anymore–it was ruined.

One entire wall was gone, blown inward, exposing the mud–and–blood–slick lawn outside. Tables were overturned. Puddles of blood coated the floors. Everywhere I looked, there were bodies. Moonshadow warriors, rogues, it didn’t matter–they were all joined in death.

The sight of the home I loved reduced to ruin and filled with death was a fresh blow to the gut. I felt the baby lurch as if reacting to the sight. Or maybe that was just my own nausea bubbling up at the scent of burnt bodies. Either way, I clutched my stomach, hardly able to keep down what was left in my stomach.

But above the horror of what had happened to my home was one piercing, sickening thought: Andrei.

We hadn’t been able to send reinforcements. The battle here raged all night. By now, the battle in Bloodmoon was likely over.

Who had won?

Andrei was too far for me to sense our bond, so I couldn’t confirm whether he was alive or not. If he had died, would I still be able to feel it? I must, right? Surely I would feel the loss in my bones, no matter the distance, now

that we were marked.

I kept telling myself that, if only to keep myself moving, to keep myself upright and strong for my people.

But deep down, I was terrified.

Still, the terror was a luxury I couldn’t afford. There was much to be done now that the battle was over. The border needed to be secured. I needed to communicate with our allies, call for aid. The house had to be rebuilt, bodies had. to be buried or burned, and my people needed to eat.

I threw myself into my work. I let it consume me, let it devour my fear surrounding Andrei. I refused to think

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Chapter 382

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about the what–ifs and focused solely on my pack. My people.

I was their Luna, even if I was battered and afraid and alone. I wouldn’t fail them like I had failed Andrei.

After getting started on the building, sending messages to our allies, and directing what to do with the bodies- burn the rogues, identify our own and consult the families for rites–I decided to check on Grace. She was in the infirmary, of course, or at least what was left of it. The twins were with her, watching with interest as she bandaged a sobbing warrior’s amputated leg.

“Kids, you shouldn’t be seeing this,” I said as I approached, but neither Max nor Jane made moves to get up. Jane simply handed Grace another roll of bandages while Max stroked the warrior’s hair, soothing him.

“They’re good with them,” Grace said softly as I took a seat next to her and began to help. “I think they like it. Connecting with the soldiers.”

I shot my friend a look. The terror of what might have happened to Damon was etched clearly into her face just as it likely was mine.

“They’re only six.”

“And yet they’ve seen more than most adults ever will.” Grace didn’t look up from her work. “They’re strong, Natalia. Like you and Andrei.”

My throat bobbed. I knew she was right, but… As their mother, I never wanted them to see any of the horrors they’d had to see in their short years. They should have been playing with toys and making flower crowns, not… this.

And yet, as I looked at my children stoically helping the medics, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride in my chest. Despite everything, they were turning out okay. Haunted by their past, perhaps, but they wouldn’t let it get them down.

They would make good leaders one day. Or whatever they wanted to be; I knew they would excel in their own ways.

I remained quiet after that, honestly too exhausted to speak. Grace didn’t seem to mind my silent company as we worked our way around the infirmary, tending to the injured. At some point, someone pressed a cup of stew into my hands, but I felt too sick to eat. Grace practically forced me to eat, and the very act of chewing felt like a labor. But the food did help to at least give me a little strength to keep going.

Around sundown, he arrived.

The lone warrior.

He showed up battered and bruised, covered in blood and with a terrified stare that seemed to see for miles. I found out he’d arrived because of the commotion at the front of the infirmary, and when I walked over and pushed my way through the small crowd that had formed, I knew right away that he had come from the Thornwood.

“Luna Natalia,” the warrior gasped when he saw me standing there. He turned to Grace next. “Luna Grace…” He swallowed hard. “I… I ran…”

Grace clutched my hand. “Tell us what happened.”

The warrior shut his eyes for a moment, face pinching with anguish before he smoothed it over and composed himself. Looking between us, he whispered, “There were too many… They had so many horrible weapons… I’m a

coward.”

“Just tell us!” I spat out, perhaps more harshly than I intended. The crowd around us was silent, waiting. We all knew that sort of answer the warrior was holding onto.

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He stared at his feet. “I don’t know what happened to the Alphas. It was too chaotic, but…” He looked up at me, and my stomach dropped as those haunted eyes met mine. He didn’t speak. Only shook his head.

Grace dropped beside me, crumpling to the floor in a sudden heap of sobs and cries. She clutched my leg, clawed at my calves, ripped at my pants–but I hardly felt it. Hardly heard the sounds of her agony over the sound of my pulse rushing through my ears.

The world tilted around me. I thought I might collapse, too, but somehow, I managed to remain upright, even as my vision darkened around the edges and my knees went weak.

Andrei and Damon were dead.

And I couldn’t even scream. Couldn’t even cry.

I just felt so… hollow. So empty.

All I felt was the visceral hunger of the knife at my hip.

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