The Silent Luna's Trial (Maple and Finn) novel Chapter 13

Blair’s Perspective

The four of them clustered tightly around Carrie, their hands trembling as they checked her over, desperate to find any sign of injury. Her arm bore only a minor burn, but they reacted as though the world was ending.

“Carrie! Are you alright?” one of them asked, voice thick with worry.

“Let me see if there are any blisters,” another added, urgency dripping from his words.

—

“Get the ointment! Hurry!” someone shouted.

Meanwhile, I was still engulfed in flames, the heat searing my skin relentlessly.

It wasn’t until a passing crew member spotted me that help arrived. His face was pale with alarm as he sprinted over, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and sprayed the flames that were mercilessly consuming my body.

“Miss! Hold on, I’m here!” he called out, his voice ringing in my ears.

My vision blurred, the edges of the world melting away. When I looked up, all I could see was the four men carrying Carrie below deck, cradling her as if she were made of the most fragile glass. Their eyes—every single one—were fixed solely on her. Not a flicker of concern for me.

They were my brothers, the family I once trusted implicitly, yet in my moment of agony, not a single one spared me a glance.

By the time the crew finally brought me back to my cabin, each breath felt like knives slicing through my chest.

The fire had ravaged my skin, the burns so deep they seemed to cling to my bones. Every small movement caused fresh blood to seep out, sticky and warm.

Inside me, the wolf stirred, howling desperately, trying to trigger my healing instincts. But the silver-lined whip wounds combined with the burns had suppressed her power. My recovery crawled forward at a painfully slow pace.

The cabin was silent and empty—I was utterly alone.

My phone buzzed suddenly, breaking the heavy quiet.

With great effort, I lifted my arm and answered the call.

“Ms. Swan, we still require a few documents for the private island you purchased,” a calm voice informed me.

“I’ll send them… immediately,” I rasped, my voice rough and strained from the pain. “Please, finalize everything. I need to get there… as soon as I can.”

There was nowhere left for me to turn. Only the island I had bought with my own hands—remote, isolated, far from everything and everyone.

But just as I hung up, a cold, all-too-familiar voice cut through the silence behind me.

“Who were you talking to?”

Christian.

I quickly hid my phone beneath the covers, forcing a calm facade. “No one.”

He stood in the doorway, his gaze dropping to the burns marring my body. His brows knitted together in immediate concern.

“What happened to you?” he asked, stepping closer. For once, I caught a rare flicker of panic in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I looked down, offering him a bitter smile.

Call him?

I had screamed on that deck, my dress ablaze, skin burning, hair singed. And yet he—and the other three—had all rushed to Carrie, as if she were the only one who mattered. Not one of them had glanced back.

How could I possibly call out to him now?

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “The healer’s on the way. You should go. Be with Carrie… she needs you more.”

To my surprise, he settled beside my bed.

“She’s got people with her. I’m staying until you’ve been treated,” he said softly.

His hand reached out, gently brushing the hair from my forehead. The touch was tender… familiar. But I only stared at him, calm and distant, the spark I once felt for him extinguished.

He belonged to someone else now—Carrie’s mate.

Her husband.

He had marked her behind my back, sealing their mate bond. From that moment on, there was no turning back for us.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, brows furrowed with concern.

I shook my head faintly.

Hurt? Of course it did. My skin was splitting, rough and cracked like old bark, every whisper of air stinging like acid.

“I’m scared I’ll mess up,” Carrie said, voice trembling slightly.

“I’m not going,” I shot back immediately.

But before she could respond, the men had already made the decision for me.

“Carrie’s health isn’t great. Go with her,” Lysander said coldly, as if issuing an order.

“You know these events best,” Orion added, adjusting his glasses. “Make sure Carrie doesn’t embarrass herself.”

Zayden didn’t wait for more—he shoved me into the car. “Take care of her. Don’t cause trouble.”

The door slammed shut behind me with a harsh bang.

Through the window, I saw them standing there, their faces etched with concern and worry for Carrie, and I couldn’t help but find it absurd—almost laughable.

They only cared about whether Carrie was hurt or upset. Never once did they ask if I was okay.

That night, Carrie wore a stunning red gown, basking in the spotlight as if she were born to be the center of attention.

“Here, drink this for me,” she said, handing me a glass of champagne, her smile sweet but calculating. “If I show up tipsy, what do you think they’ll do?”

My fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles turning white.

She was doing this on purpose.

And I knew—if anything happened to her, they’d come for me first.

Glass after glass, the room began to spin.

“Oh no, Blair… are you drunk already?” Carrie gasped, feigning innocence. “Let me help you lie down.”

I tried to push her away, but she was stronger than she appeared.

Much stronger.

She dragged me down a long hallway, out of the ballroom, and shoved me into an unfamiliar hotel room.