Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 293

Giselle’s POV

A sudden commotion broke through the steady hum of the party, shattering the illusion of celebration.

I turned, my heart skipping a beat, and saw one of the pack warriors sprinting toward us, his face pale with urgency.

Guests stopped mid-laugh, mid-conversation, their expressions shifting from joy to alarm as he burst into the center of the gathering.

“Rogues! There’s been an attack!” he shouted, his voice ringing out across the clearing. “Everyone needs to gather around and stay put until we can secure the area! Pack guards, take your positions!”

Instantly, the mood shifted, fear crackling through the air like electricity.

Guests began to murmur in panic, looking to the edges of the pack grounds, as if they might see the threat lurking beyond the trees.

Parents clutched their children closer, and people crowded together, seeking comfort in proximity.

The guards moved quickly, forming a protective line around us, their faces grim with determination.

My heart pounded in my chest, panic flaring in my own veins. This wasn’t part of the plan. Ryker is out in the woods away from safety and on top of it all, there is a rogue attack!

I pulled myself together. I couldn’t afford to let anyone see my uncertainty, my fear. I forced myself to take a steadying breath, reminding myself of the part I had to play.

The perfect Luna wouldn’t cower, wouldn’t show a crack in her facade. I could still turn this to my advantage. All I had to do was shift the focus back to my original plan.

Whether Ryker is safe or not, I just had to pin everything on Astrid. If Ryker dies, Astrid and Killian would be beyond irreparable and I wouldn’t have to take care of someone that is not my blood.

As the guests clustered together, their eyes darting nervously to the shadows, I made my move.

I widened my eyes, letting the fear show plainly on my face, and clutched my chest as if in a sudden, desperate realization.

My voice rose into a frantic, hysterical pitch, cutting through the crowd’s murmurs like a knife.

“Ryker!” I screamed, my hands trembling as I clutched the fabric of my dress. “Where is my son? Has anyone seen Ryker?!”

Heads turned toward me, expressions of shock and concern mirroring my own, and I saw the fear spread like wildfire.

I let my panic bubble over, tears welling in my eyes as I spun in circles, looking around as if expecting to see him among the crowd.

The hysteria in my voice rang out, filling the space between us with a mother’s desperation.