Rise Of A Shattered Luna (Natalie) by Kave Derry novel Chapter 269

13:07 Sat, Jun 20

Chapter 269 The Intrusion

Chapter 269 The Intrusion

Natalie’s POV

My eyes fluttered open, the deep, dreamless sleep that had anchored my limbs finally lifting as the unmistakable sound of high-pitched laughter broke the silence of the lodge

“Nyx, they’re back,” I thought, shifting beneath the heavy, cedar-scented wool blankets.

My inner wolf yawned within my consciousness, her great black head lifting as she stretched her paws.

I sat up, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips as the twins’ voices drifted up the stairwell, chattering excitedly about their countryside adventures.

“Daddy! Daddy, you wouldn’t believe it!” Susie’s voice bounced off the wooden rafters.

“The pig farm Uncle Flynn took us to wasn’t dirty at all! The fences were clean, and the caretakers even played classical music through the speakers for the sows! They said it makes the milk sweeter for the litter!”

“Yeah!” Sean chimed in. “And all the chickens and ducks were kept together in the lower pasture… it didn’t smell bad at all, Daddy. The omegas down here use dried clover for the coops, the countryside isn’t nearly as gross as people say it is.”

I slipped my feet into my leather shoes, smoothing down the front of my white blouse.

My embarrassment from the afternoon ride had completely eased during the long nap.

I walked out onto the landing just as Baron stepped out from the kitchen area.

The twins were beaming, their small faces flushed a bright, healthy pink from the crisp country air.

Between them, they were proudly clutching two fat, silver river fish they had caught from the

stream.

But it was the man standing directly behind them that made

Flynn.

my breath catch in my throat.

His heavy tactical long coat was tossed over a bench, the legs of his trousers rolled up to his knees to reveal mud-spattered shins, and his large, scarred hand was gripped around the wire handle of a plastic bucket sloshing with river water.

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Baron stopped at the edge of the dining table, his arms crossing over his broad chest as a low. deep chuckle rumbled within his throat

rises Bared with a genuine, morki

amusement as he took in my h

disheveled state

“If this image of the great Stone tracker spreads online, Flynn.” Baron teased, “your reputation in the high society registry is dead. You’ll never manage to attract a high tier female to your den again.

“Nonsense!” Flynn shot back, lifting his chin with an absolute, stubborn pride.

He set the sloshing bucket down on the stone hearth with a heavy thud, wiping a streak of river mud from his cheek.

“Farmers and land-handlers are the most honorable people in the territories. Without their crops and their livestock, what exactly would an elegant corporate Alpha like you eat between board meetings? This isn’t a loss of status, Baron… this is called staying grounded. It keeps the wolf’s senses sharp.”

He paused, his nostrils flaring slightly as the thick, rich aroma of roasted root vegetables and seared game meat hit his nose.

“Has Natalie come out of her room yet?” Flynn asked, his tone dropping into a quieter.

“The ‘carsickness’ should have cleared by now under the valley breeze.”

“She’s probably still resting,” Baron replied, his gaze shifting toward the stairs, his eyes locking onto my figure the exact moment I stepped onto the top step.

A sudden, sweet warmth flooded his aura as he caught the clear, relaxed line of my posture.

“Go on, Flynn. Take the kids upstairs to the secondary bath and wash the river mud off their paws. I’ll wake her for dinner.”

“Fine.” Flynn scooped the fish from the twins’ hands, herding the protesting pups toward the upper corridor. “Don’t take too long. The little rogues are starving.”

Baron turned and strode up the stairs, his movements silent despite his massive size.

I waited for him on the landing, my arms resting against the wooden railing.

The moment he cleared the final step, the light from the hallway fixture illuminated his front, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into loud, unadulterated laughter.

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He was wearing a bright, primary red cooking apron tied rightly around his massive waist over his custom Trousers.

Seeing the bright, genuine color rush back into my face, and hearing the clear sound of my amusement, the residual tension in Baron’s shoulders melted away completely

“Glad I could amuse the Scribe,” he murmured, stepping close enough that the heat of his body radiated against my skin

He reached out, his large fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw. “Now that you are awake. are you ready for dinner?”

“Alright,” I whispered, a soft, yielding warmth settling into my core as I leaned into his touch for a brief second.

“Let’s eat before the twins tear the bathroom apart.”

I slipped past him as I followed him down into the ground-floor living area.

Baron led me gently by the hand toward the long dining table, pulling out the heavy wooden chair for me with a quiet, domestic reverence.

Just then, an abrupt, violent noise erupted outside the lodge.

We both froze in unison.

We turned our heads toward the heavy front doors.

A familiar, stale odour flooded my senses, mixed with the sharp, panicked musk of an old patriarch trying to salvage a dying line.

“Why is she here?” I muttered, my voice dropping into a flat, iron-cold register that carried absolutely no emotion.

He echoed my thought exactly, his jaw clenching until the bone showed white against his skin. “They’ve tracked our vanguard’s coordinates through the border registry.”

“I’ll take a look,” I said, rising from the chair before he could move.

I didn’t want to hide behind a screen anymore.

Baron trailed immediately after me, his massive frame positioned a half-step behind my shoulder, his large hand resting near the small of my back.

He was entirely unwilling to let me face them alone, his presence an immovable wall that

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Chapter 269 The Intrusion

would shield my den from any wind.

We pushed the heavy double doors of the lodge open, stepping out onto the wide wooden porch into the cool evening air

At the base of the steps, standing under the amber glare of our transport convoy’s spotlights. the conflict had already reached a standstill.

A sleek, black luxury sedan from the city sat idling illegally on the grass, its hood spattered with mud from the rural trails.

Standing beside the vehicle were two figures I never expected to see in this neutral axis.

Quincy Summers and Jordan Summers.

The current Patriarch of the Summers pack stood with his cane gripped tightly in his hand, his old face pale and lined with an absolute exhaustion under the harsh glare of the lights.

Beside him, Jordan looked completely undone, his clothes wrinkled from the road, his scent leaking a frantic wave of panic as the Stone family’s guards held their silver-tipped spears inches from their chests, preventing them from taking a single step toward our threshold.

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