The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 389

**TITLE: The Perfect 389**

**Ella’s POV**

The first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness was the heavy, acrid scent of chemicals lingering in the air—a scent that clung to my senses like a thick fog. It was almost suffocating. Soon after, an unwelcome wave of nausea crashed over me, enveloping my stomach in a tight, uncomfortable grip. I fought the urge to retch, forcing the bile back down my throat with a grimace that twisted my features.

As my vision gradually sharpened, I took in my surroundings and realized with a jolt that I was still in the guest room of the Oxford estate—the very same room where I had discovered those cursed artifacts. But now, the atmosphere felt drastically different. I was bound to one of the plush armchairs, its fabric soft against my skin, yet the ropes that restrained me were unyielding and cruel. They dug into my wrists and ankles, biting into my flesh with each futile attempt to wriggle free. The crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows around the room, and I was utterly alone.

How naive I had been, believing that I could simply snatch the artifacts from under Margaret’s watchful gaze without consequence.

Julie had warned me time and again about Margaret’s formidable nature, her dangerous cunning. It was foolish to underestimate someone who had climbed to such power; one does not achieve that status by being foolish or gullible.

The plan had been doomed from the start. Margaret must have known we intended to take the artifacts, and she had expertly ensnared us in her web, all to prove a point—to remind us just how outmatched we truly were.

A troubling thought flickered in my mind like a candle’s flame: What had happened to Alexander? Was he still at the gala, blissfully oblivious to the peril I now faced, or had he fallen into Margaret’s clutches as well? And what about Anya? I silently prayed she had managed to slip away and return home safely before the situation spiraled further out of control.

I tugged at the ropes binding me, my heart racing with desperation. I had to escape. But no matter how hard I struggled, the knots held firm. Whoever had tied me up had done an expert job, leaving angry red marks on my skin with every attempt to free myself.

Just then, I heard a soft shuffle behind me, a sound that sent a jolt of hope through my veins. I twisted my head around, wincing as my neck protested the sudden movement, and gasped when I caught sight of those familiar eyes peering at me from the shadows.

“Julie!” I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of relief and urgency. “Oh, thank the Goddess! Can you help me? Please, get me out of this!”

But instead of the reassuring words I craved, Julie merely blinked at me, her expression vacant, devoid of the fierce spirit I had come to rely on. It was as if a fog had settled over her mind, rendering her a mere shell of the determined witch I knew.

Like a… thrall.

I gritted my teeth, watching as Margaret sauntered across the room, her confidence radiating off her like a dark aura. She gestured to Julie, who shuffled obediently toward the door, her expression still blank. The sight sent a shudder through me; it was unsettling to see her so altered.

Margaret reached for one of the artifacts from the trunk—the ritual knife—her fingers caressing the blade with a twisted fondness. She held it up to the firelight, watching the flames dance along the polished surface. “I must admit, when Helen and John informed me of your little scheme with Alexander, I felt a thrill of excitement. The thrill of the chase has become a rare delight for me. I had grown so weary of the mundane. But I expected more creativity from you than donning a wig and sneaking into my domain.”

In one swift motion, she seized my wig and yanked it off, exposing my real hair. She studied me for a moment, her lip curling in disdain.

“It’s a pity, really. You’re even more beautiful now, after your little transformation.”

My throat constricted painfully as the realization washed over me. “So you knew all along.”

“Not from the very beginning. You did a commendable job of hiding yourself,” she replied, waving the knife dismissively. “But then Gabriel mentioned you when he visited Ashclaw a few days ago. That’s when it clicked—I realized you had been ensnared by the same curse that afflicted your mother.”