Semua Bab Forsaken Luna's Second Chance: Bab 71 - Bab 80

BAILEYThey think they’re being subtle—but even a blind squirrel could see my mom and King Maxwell are in love with each other.They don’t say it. They barely even look at each other when they’re in the same room. It’s all awkward silences and stolen glances and him calling her “Miss Beatrice” like he hasn’t been secretly watching her during training sessions when he thinks no one notices.But I notice. I notice everything.So, obviously, it’s up to me to fix it.And I’ve got the perfect plan: Operation Homework Trap.It starts with a “forgotten” scroll about territorial diplomacy, a staged little sigh at breakfast, and a fake frown I practice in the mirror five times before school. By the time I’m home, I’ve got a whole backstory lined up. Group projects are very stressful. Especially when you make up your group. Especially when your group is your mom and a royal Alpha you’re trying to push into emotional vulnerability.“Mom,” I say, sitting at the kitchen table and plopping the scrol

BEATRICEThe worst kind of battle is the one where you have to smile while you’re bleeding.I sit in the center of the council chamber, spine straight, hands folded, pretending like I don’t feel the heat of every eye in the room pressing down on me. The air is tense and too still, like the breath before a storm. The long polished table is filled with parents, instructors, and pack leaders, including the three who called for this disciplinary meeting after the accident in my class. One boy bruised, one limping, and suddenly I’m the villain of the week.Aria sits to my right, arms crossed, face calm—but her eyes are sharp. She’s not just here to observe. She’s here to witness. And I know from the slight tilt of her head that she’s ready to throw herself into the fire for me if she has to.Still, I don’t let myself lean on her. Not yet.Because this is my mess. And I have to clean it up.The first to speak is Councilor Verran, one of the oldest and most traditional voices on the education

MAXWELLThe moment I hear what happened, my stomach turns cold—because I wasn’t there when she needed me.By the time word reaches me about the incident at the training grounds—the injuries, the disciplinary hearing, the accusations—it’s already been dealt with. The fallout is mostly cleaned up. The students are recovering. The council has reviewed the footage. Aria stood by her side.And I?I did nothing.I pace my office long after the sun has dipped below the trees, the fire in the hearth burning low, throwing shadows against the stone walls. Every report I read only adds weight to the knot already forming in my chest.They questioned her integrity.They accused her of nepotism.They tried to strip her of the one thing she’s fought tooth and nail to build.And I wasn’t there.Not to speak for her. Not to shield her. Not even to remind them that Beatrice isn’t someone you discard just because she’s not wrapped in pedigree.She deserves better. From them. From me.I should’ve known it

BAILEYThe thing about grown-ups is they act like love is rocket science—but it’s really just two people being too scared to say how they feel.And right now, Maxwell is the biggest scaredy-cat of them all.I spot him standing near the edge of the training grounds after class. The warriors are gone. The younger kids are already heading back toward the academy. He’s alone, hands in his coat pockets, pretending to casually observe the terrain like he’s not dying to catch a glimpse of my mom.Too bad for him—I’m not stupid.I’ve been watching him for weeks. The way he looks at her when she’s not looking. The way his voice changes when he says her name. The way he always shows up five minutes after something important happens, like he’s close enough to care but too far to be accountable.Well, I’ve had enough.I march up to him, the crunch of gravel under my boots the only warning he gets.“Hey,” I say, stopping right in front of him. “You busy?”He looks down, surprised. “Bailey. No, not

MAXWELLThere’s a difference between being admired and being hunted—and I feel the Dragon Princess’s eyes on me like the edge of a blade dressed in silk.She doesn’t try to hide it anymore. Not the smiles, not the carefully calculated laughter, not the way her hand lingers on my arm just a second too long every time she greets me. It’s subtle to most. But I’ve spent my entire life in a court of masks—I know when someone is playing the long game.And the Princess? She’s playing to win.Her court isn’t subtle either. The Dragon King has already mentioned a “potential alliance,” and her brother, Caius, has been unusually vocal in his support. I know the signs. The kingdom is shifting around me, expecting something grand and diplomatic—something permanent.An engagement.It’s what they want. It’s what they expect.But it’s not what I want.Not when every time she laughs, I remember the sound of Beatrice’s laugh instead—rougher, realer. Not when every time the Princess touches my arm, I rem