The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 70

**Shadows Hearts by Joseph King**
**Chapter 70: Stand and Fight**

In the dimly lit basement, shadows danced along the walls, flickering in rhythm with the anxious energy that filled the air.

Luke was hunched in the corner, his fingers a blur over the laptop keyboard. The relentless clatter of keys echoed like a thousand tiny needles, each prickling at Harvey’s already fraying nerves, amplifying his growing irritation. The tension was palpable, a thick fog of anxiety that seemed to wrap around them all.

“Luke, what’s the situation now?” Ashton inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.

He could feel the weight of despair pressing down on everyone, the fragile thread of their composure threatening to snap at any moment.

As soon as he spoke, a collective gaze shifted toward Luke, their eyes filled with a mix of hope and desperation.

Luke had never been comfortable under such scrutiny; the sensation of being the focal point made his skin crawl. He adjusted his glasses awkwardly, a nervous habit that he couldn’t quite shake off. “How would I know? But someone else does,” he replied, his tone clipped, as if he were trying to distance himself from the burden of expectation.

Barely had the words escaped his lips when the basement door swung open with a sudden force, sending a wave of shock rippling through the group. Instinctively, they braced themselves, muscles tensing in anticipation of an imminent confrontation.

Harvey surged forward, his body coiled like a spring, the primal wolf energy coursing through him, ready to unleash his beastly form at a moment’s notice.

Ashton positioned himself closely behind Harvey, his grip tightening around the hilt of a sharp dagger, the cold metal a reassuring weight in his hand.

But as they caught sight of the newcomer, a collective sigh of relief washed over them, their bodies relaxing as the tension ebbed away.

Harvey’s face broke into a wide grin, a spark of joy igniting in his eyes.

Even Luke, usually so stoic and reserved, permitted a faint smile to break through his serious facade.

There stood Thora, her silhouette framed by the doorway, a bag slung over her shoulder like a soldier returning from battle. Her school uniform was marred by dirt and blood, a stark contrast to the pristine image of the girl they knew. The calm, cold demeanor she wore made it seem as though she had just stepped off a war-torn battlefield, a warrior ready to report back.

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