When The Luna Broke Her Chains novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9 Where Fate Bends

[KNOX]

Her body collapses forward, her cheek hitting my chest

I go still. Completely still. Then my lungs expand on a slow breath.

As her fingers curl weakly into my robe, in the faintest whisper, she breathes, “Save me… I don’t want to die.”

Her body goes fully slack in my arms.

I cup her check and tilt her face upward. She’s pale. Her lips have lost almost all their color.

We meet again.

Is this a joke the fates are playing? A cruel game designed to distract me when I already have enough weighing on my shoulders–my crown, my curse, the Luna Choosing ceremony looming over me.

I exhale slowly, letting her rest against my chest as I inspect the damage. Puncture wounds along her calf, still bleeding. A deep gash across her stomach–one that slices through an older burn among many scattered across her body beneath soaked bandages that have come off.

They weren’t there yesterday when I saw her at the temple.

She risked her life for a child that wasn’t hers.

Kindness shouldn’t cost this much.

My jaw tightens as I remember the ceremonial cloak she draped over Grandmother last night, thinking she was a helpless beggar. The bread she placed in my hand. The softness in her eyes when she looked at those who had nothing.

I tossed the bread aside like an idiot… only to think about it again and again.

A single day has passed, and yet seeing her now feels like years flooding back. Perhaps some hidden, ungoverned instinct within me called her here just so I could get the answers I didn’t know I needed.

But she has no idea what she’s doing to me. No idea why my heart tugs violently when she’s this close.

She’s just a stranger. Nameless. Wolf–less.

‘But a Luna. A married woman,’ Teo, my wolf, growls inside me.

I place my hand over the bleeding wounds on her calf. I’ve never healed another before–never needed to, but I do it now.

Heat floods my arm, traveling down to my hand, warming the very air around us as the skin knits itself together. I move my hand behind her neck, supporting her head gently before turning my attention to the gash across her stomach. Her pale green skirt is soaked with blood.

I push warmth into the wound. It closes beneath my touch.

Next, I skim my thumb over the burn on her arm, tracing the angry line of torn, inflamed skin. It smooths instantly, turning flawless under my hand.

Who injured her? Why did they? Why would anyone lay a hand on someone this gentle?

The questions turn to anger, then to something darker.

I heal every wound I find. Once I’m done, I scoop her up and carry her to the carriage, setting her carefully atop the cushioned bench, brushing aside her wet hair.

As I move away, my cufllink snags onto the netted sleeve of her blouse. I freeze. Quietly, gently, I free the fabric without tearing it.

Her features are soft even in unconsciousness. The faint curve beneath her eyes. The shape of her mouth. The way her lashes rest like shadows on her cheeks.

I regret throwing the bread.

Why? I don’t know. But I do.

Before I can go find Iver and Dion, her eyelids flutter.

She gasps, startling backwards, pressing herself against the backrest, eyes wide. “Where am I?” she breathes.

“Inside the carriage,” I answer calmly. My hands clasp together to hide the way my pulse lurches again. “I didn’t want to leave you on the stone in your condition.

She looks down at herself, then blinks rapidly as memory returns. “You saved me,” she whispers. “My wounds. I had wounds. They-”

“I healed them.”

She stares at me, mouth falling open. “You… healed them?” Then she scans the carriage in confusion.

“You can leave,” I say quietly. “You’re not imprisoned here.”

She wipes her face. “The child. Your son-”

“He’s safe,” I say, choosing not to correct her.

Iver and Dion return just then, Dion cackling happily in my beta’s arms.

“Your Grace,” Iver says.

“Hush,” I murmur. “She’s inside.”

“You healed her,” he says quietly.

I nod once. “I did.”

The carriage door opens, and she steps out, her ruined clothes bunched in her hand.

I offer her my hand to help her descend, but she doesn’t take it. I clench my jaw but say nothing.

“Thank you,” she whispers anyway.

She stares at Dion next, nerves softening into concern. Are you alright?” she asks him.

“Thank you for protecting me from the monster, my lady,” Dion sputters through crooked, gap–toothed smiles.

She touches his cheek, startling Iver, but I give him a look–let her.

“Don’t stray from your father,” she tells Dion softly. “Hold his hand when you’re near a lake. Alright?”

Dion blinks, then nods.

She turns to me one last time. “About your robe-”

“It’s fine.” I say.

Her gaze dips again toward my wrist. I hide it without thinking.

She nods, straightens, and turns away. I watch as she walks into the trees, disappearing into the forest like she was never here.

Iver and Dion climb into the carriage. I linger a moment longer.

And I hope–quietly, irrationally–that our next meeting won’t be as fleeting.