All Chapters of Reborn Luna: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

220 Chapters

211.She’s alive

KeithHope is shaking in my arms, but she’s here.She’s alive.For one fragile second, that’s all that matters.I crush her against me, breathing her in like I’ve been drowning, and she’s oxygen. Her fingers fist in my shirt, clutching hard, as if she lets go, I’ll disappear again.My Lycan presses forward inside me, pacing, restless.She is ours. Protect her. Kill for her.“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her hair.But even as I say it, my eyes are on the dome in front of us.Because this isn’t over.Inside, beyond the electrified barrier, Tirianna is still trapped with Elira.And the Heart.The cursed, ancient Heart we prayed would never fall into her hands. We were too late in finding a place to hide it.We were too comfortable with things feeling peaceful, my beast comments.Hope pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are glassy with fear, not for herself.For Tirianna.“We can’t let her get it?” Hope whispers. “The Heart. No, after what, we can’t allow her to get her hand

212. Dark magic

ElliotThe air inside the hidden lab tastes like metal and fear.I grind the last of the compound into solution, watching the chemical swirl in the glass cylinder. It glows faintly—iridescent silver against a storm-dark base. Fitting.“Steady,” my Lycan murmurs inside me. His voice is low, controlled, but I feel the tension vibrating beneath it. “If you miscalculate the ratio, the backlash will tear the barrier—and everyone near it—apart.”“I know,” I mutter under my breath, adjusting the heat.The barrier outside pulses through the earth like a second heartbeat. Elira’s magic. Old. Corrupted. Alive.A crack. That’s all we need.Once she’s vulnerable again, her wolves will react exactly how we expect—rage, panic, a full offensive. That’s the opening. Keith will take her out. Clean. Decisive. And then we lock down the perimeter and make sure not a single SilverFang bastard escapes.My fingers steady as I inject the final reagent.The communicator on my belt crackles.“Tao here. North b

213.Killing the Guardian

TiriannaPain is white.Not red. Not sharp. White.It explodes behind my eyes as Elira’s beast slams into me, claws tearing through fur and flesh. My Lycan roars inside me, the sound reverberating through bone and blood.Up! she snarls. We do not fall!I twist, barely missing the second strike. The creature’s limb bends wrong—too long, too jointed—three talons carving trenches into the earth where my throat had been.A monster to match the true nature of Elira and the violations of the Sliver Fang.The barrier around us hums like a living storm. Yellow and black energy crackles overhead, sealing us inside a cage of magic and madness. Beyond it, I can sense them—our wolves, our mates, our pack—slamming against the walls, their fury shaking the ground.But they can’t reach us.Not yet.Elira’s laughter slides across my mind like oil over water.You’re slower than I expected, Guardian.Her voice is layered now—hers and something else beneath it. Something hungry.I bare my teeth and lung

214.The Heart calls

EliraThe sound splits the night like shattering glass, a violent, splintering crack that reverberates through the mountains. Silver light fractures across the invisible dome above our territory, spiderwebbing in jagged lines before imploding inward.Pain detonates inside my chest.It feels like someone has driven a blade straight through my sternum and twisted.I collapse to my hind legs in the magic-dusted clearing, claws digging into frozen earth as the backlash tears through me. The barrier was never just a spell. It was alive. It was tethered to my pulse.And now it is being ripped apart.But none of that compares to the feeling of being duped.Tirianna had passed on the heart.And now Keith had the upper hand.She whipped her head toward the rush of air and watched as Keith moved at breakneck speed toward her.“Elira!” one of her guards called as her wolves moved into motion.Voices shout around me, but they sound distant, muffled under the roaring in my ears.Inside my head, my

215.That is not ours

HopeThe sound rips through the tunnels like something dragged straight out of hell.It isn’t a howl.It isn’t even a roar.It’s a guttural, twisted call that scrapes against the concrete walls and claws its way into my bones.My wolf jerks violently inside me. That is wrong. That is not ours.My heart stutters.Keith.He’s out there.Tirianna. Lina. All of them.The security tunnel smells like metal and fear—oil from the generators, damp earth, sickness, antiseptic. Women huddle with their children. Elders sit on cots. A few of the sick are wrapped in blankets against the cold that always lives underground.And that sound echoes again.Closer.Emma appears at my side, her face pale but steady. “I don’t like the sound of that.”“Neither do I,” I whisper.My wolf paces, hackles raised. It calls a challenge. It calls blood.EliraThe ground trembles.Dust sifts down from the ceiling.Then—A pounding.Heavy. Deliberate.Too close.Too close.An enforcer barrels down the corridor toward

216. Elven blood

HopeI close my eyes.The massive wolf above me rears back, jaws opening wide, hot breath washing over my face.This is it.My wolf goes still inside me—not in surrender, but in defiance.My energy is low, pain rising but I'm not ready to give in.I feel the tremor of his growl through the stone beneath my back. Blood pools warm beneath my shoulder. My vision swims, but I force my eyes open one last time.If I die, I’ll die looking at my enemy.His teeth descend—And the night explodes.A sharp, ringing sound slices through the air, like crystal shattering. Light—bright, silver-blue light—slashes across the chamber.The wolf above me jerks violently.An arrow made of pure luminescence pierces through his shoulder and pins him to the wall.He howls.Not in triumph.In agony.I blink, dazed.Shapes pour through the tunnel entrance behind the rogues—tall, armored figures moving with impossible grace. Their blades glow with the same ethereal light as the arrow.Elves.For a heartbeat, I t

217.Blood and storm

CamilleThe courtyard smells like iron and rain.Blood and storm.I stand in the center of it with my hood shadowing my face, the pack ringed around us in a broken circle. Their eyes glow in the dark—gold, blue, green—but none of them step forward. They can’t.They wear her collars.Black iron bands etched with sigils I memorized as a child.I lift my head slowly.Across from me, my grandmother waits in her beast form.Her form towers above my human height, spine arched, fur silvered like moonlight caught in frost. Her eyes burn an ancient amber.The glint of the collar on the wolf packs whose hands she forced.The smell of death builds around us and I don’t have time to think of all the people who gve up there lives, whose lives were taken.“What is this? After all I’ve done for you, you would dare stand against me,” she growls, voice layered—human and wolf braided into something monstrous.I reach up and push back my hood.Gasps ripple through the courtyard.I hear Mira growl sharpl

218.Final verdict

KeithThe council hall is too small for this many predators.Even in human skin, we radiate teeth.I sit at the head of the long oak table, hands braced against the wood, and feel the weight of every gaze in the room. Riven stands near the far window, shoulders rigid, as if he could outrun what we’re about to decide. Jeb leans back with forced ease, boots crossed. Silas and Thorne flank the door like carved sentinels. Damon’s fingers drum once against the table before stilling. Xavior watches everyone and no one, calculating.At my right sits Tessa, chin lifted. Beside her, Elena and her mate, all quiet grace and ancient power. And at my left—Hope.My mate’s knee brushes mine beneath the table. The contact is small. It steadies me more than any show of dominance ever could.He should have died on the battlefield, my Lycan growls inside me, a low vibration beneath my ribs. We are wasting breath.“We’re not executing him in the dark,” I murmur inwardly. “We’re not becoming what he was.

219. We need you

HopeThe burial smoke still clings to my hair.Even after washing. Even after the wind has shifted and carried the ashes toward the western cliffs.It lingers.The meadow is quieter now than it was during the trial. No raised voices. No growls. Just soft crying. The dull thud of earth hitting wood. The creak of leather armor as warriors kneel for the last time before graves carved too soon.We lost good people.Pack wolves. Lycan warriors. Young ones who had barely taken their first shift. Elders who had survived three wars only to fall in this one.My wolf presses against my ribs, restless and grieving. We should have been faster. Stronger.“We survived,” I whisper back to her. “That matters too.”She exhales, a low aching sound. Survival is not the same as victory.No. It isn’t.This was never going to be costless though, was it?There is always a high price for freedom.But as I stand beside Keith, my fingers laced through his, I feel something else weaving through the sorrow.Reli

220. Epilogue

KeithThe first time I hold my son, the world narrows to the weight of him in my arms.Everything else—wars, trials, blood, crowns—falls away like ash in the wind.He is small. Red-faced. Furious at the cold air he’s been forced into. His cry is sharp and indignant, and it slices straight through my chest.Hope laughs weakly from the bed, sweat-damp hair clinging to her temples. “He sounds like you.”My wolf lifts his head inside me, stunned into reverent silence.He is ours.“Yes,” I breathe, voice rough. “He is.”The healer finishes wrapping him and places him back into my hands properly this time. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I finally let it go.He’s warm.Fragile.And stronger than anything I have ever known.Hope reaches for him, and I kneel beside her so she doesn’t have to strain. The moment our son is laid against her chest, he quiets. Instantly.My wolf’s chest rumbles low with pride. He knows his mother.Hope presses her lips to the top of his head. Tears

...

17 18 19 20 21 22

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP