When The Luna Broke Her Chains novel Chapter 67

Chapter 67 Slipping Out Of Control

[KNOX]

I turn onto my side again. This time, the light catches me square in the face–pale gold from the mountain crests, slipping through the tall window I refuse to ever close.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

I haven’t slept a blink. I’ve paced the length of this room, counted the cracks in the stone, sat on the edge of the bed and stood again, thought and thought and thought about that page in Xena’s book until the words feel branded into the back of my skull.

I push myself upright and drag a hand down my face. My legs carry me before I decide where I’m going.

The ceremonial cloak lies where I left it, on display–and cleverly obscured–in the corner of my chamber, moon–gold thread catching the early light. It shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t exist in my space at all, and yet…

I crouch and lift it, fingers brushing the silken fabric.

“What are you, Xena?” I ask no one.

Something itches at my wrist. I glance down, and the ugly scar stares back at me.

A phantom itch, the scholars would have called it. It’s not really there.

I think of last night. Of how I had to drag myself out of her chamber when every instinct screamed to stay. And now–now I have to fight the opposite urge. To stay here. To not go back and check if she’s awake. If she’s breathing evenly, if she’s in pain.

For the Goddess’s sake, it hasn’t even been seven hours.

I’m irritated–I can admit that much.

First came shock, then annoyance, and beneath it–something uglier. The feeling of being used. Or worse. The certainty that I will be used.

A Lycan King may nullify a marriage between an Alpha and his Luna with nothing more than his command.

I remember the exact phrasing. The way the ink bit into the page. The lack of ambiguity. There aren’t many ways to interpret it. The conclusions line themselves up whether I want them to or not.

First: Xena wants to be separated from her husband. That much is supported by the cloak in my hands- the ceremonial symbol of her marriage bond, abandoned without regret. Second: she cannot do it herself. She’s wolfless. Attempting severance without a wolf is su*cide. Third: she doesn’t need a wolf at all if a Lycan King commands it.

She needs a Lycan King. She needs me. Well, my father, for now. But soon–soon it would be me.

The thought lands with unsettling clarity. Coincidence or not, with how this is unfolding, I have little to

10:08 am A

Chapter 67 Slipping Out Of Control

lose if I choose to fulfill that desire. And that alone should alarm mic.

I don’t like her husband. That, at least, is simple.

Finished

Cassian doesn’t even bother to hide his contempt for her. He wears it openly, like a badge of dominance. Last night, he arrived behind Seraphel–not at her side, not with urgency, but as if he’d been dragged along. As if checking on his wife after she nearly died from an unexplainable force was a burden.

He stayed just long enough to ask me something. And it wasn’t about her pain or her condition. But whether he, his sister, and his mother might be moved to the Prince’s tower. Better quarters with a better view.

I remember the glare I gave him. I hadn’t meant to intimidate his wolf, but I did.

The moment my frustration spiked, my power followed, and Cassian’s wolf cowered in front of mine. He left soon after, not even sparing Xena a second glance.

Seraphel disapproved of Astrid drawing blood. She didn’t raise her voice, though–the glare alone carried judgment.

Then Iver told me how late it was. Astrid was exhausted, kept awake by my presence in the chamber. A prince–soon to be married through a Luna Choosing that would span months–hovering over a married

woman.

It looked… bad. I know that.

Still.

Could I ignore the way my heart had tugged when Teo recognized danger before I did? But I hadn’t saved Xena this time. She did that herself. But maybe–maybe I had, in a way. By healing her. By refusing to let her bleed out on the forest floor.

The only way to know if she’s truly alright is to ask Seraphel what her blood revealed.

I glance back at the window. Dawn. I kept her up late last night. If I demand answers now, knowing how much preparation already rests on her shoulders, I’ll earn her wrath. And deservedly so.

A low growl slips from my chest. I look down.

Claws have broken through the tips of my fingers, black and sharp against pale skin.

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