Rise Of A Shattered Luna (Natalie) by Kave Derry novel Chapter 241

Jensen’s POV

The weight of Sharon’s body against mine felt like a crushing sense of suffocation.

I stood rigid in the center of the pack’s foyer, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides as she clung to me.

Her scent cloyed at my nostrils, making my inner wolf snarl in distaste.

I didn’t return the hug.

I didn’t even breathe in sync with her.

I simply waited for the seconds to tick by, waiting for her to release me.

Finally, I felt her grip loosen just enough for me to pull away.

I stepped back as I created a cold distance between us.

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“Sharon, you know perfectly well why I’m letting you live here,” I said, my voice resonating with an authority that made the house staff lower their heads.

“My mother cares about the child you’re carrying. She sees a future in that womb that I no longer have the heart to look for. So, focus on your pregnancy. No matter what, as the baby’s mother, the family won’t treat you unfairly. You will have your doctors, your comforts, and the protection of our name”

I paused, letting the weight of my next words settle.

“But any other thoughts you might have, you’d better put them/away. You know as well as I do, I only brought you here out of pity and to salvage what was left of our pack’s reputation. As for what I do outside of here, or who I spend my time with, you’d best stay

out of it.”

I turned on my heel, ready to leave the suffocating atmosphere of the house.

I wanted to be anywhere else but here.

But Sharon caught my arm.

In her panic to keep me from walking away, she used her left hand – the limb that had been a useless weight ever since the night her wolf was ripped away from her.

“Ah! My hand! Jensen, it hurts!”

A sharp cry tore from her throat.

Tears pricked her eyes instantly, and for once, the scent of her pain was real.

Without her wolf to provide the accelerated healing, she was as fragile as a human.

Every nerve in that hand was a live wire of agony.

1 froze, stunned for a moment.

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Chapter 241 Her Dead Wolf

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My gaze shifted to her ruined hand, the fingers stiff and slightly clawed, unable to properly grasp the fabric of my sleeve.

Seeing me stare, Sharon assumed guilt had finally struck me.

She batted her lashes, letting two tears fall down her pale cheeks.

She slumped her shoulders, playing the role of the broken, defenseless woman she thought I still wanted to protect.

The servants nearby kept their heads lowered, pretending not to notice the scene unfolding before them, but I could smell their emotions clearly.

And Sharon noticed it too.

Her crying softened immediately, becoming quieter, more fragile, more deliberate.

Calculated.

She lowered her lashes, letting her tears cling there.

“Jensen, I know you don’t care for me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Don’t worry… I’ll behave. With my wolf dead and one hand crippled… what could I possibly do? I’m just a shell of a woman now.

She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she wept, looking utterly pitiful.

Any normal wolf would have been moved to comfort his mate.

But all I felt was irritation.

But I didn’t pay her any

mind.

Instead, my thoughts suddenly shifted to Natalie.

That’s right.

Natalie’s hand had been ruined too.

Sharon had been the one to orchestrate that attack, hired that guy to smash the delicate bones and to also muted her soul that loves to create, to scribe the history of our souls.

Back then, to protect Sharon, how had I treated Natalie?

The image flashed in my mind.

Wait.

If Natalie’s hand was crippled and her soul was muted… how could she have drawn and transcribed those designs?

The Keeper comeback collection was filled with a vibrant energy that only a high–level Scribe could produce.

If her hand was truly ruined, then who was really behind the sketches?

Had she opened her studio as a front because she could no longer create them herself?

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