All Chapters of Reborn Luna: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

KeithI can’t breathe.Hope’s body is limp in my arms, and I’m shaking so hard I don’t even know if I’m still holding her right. Her skin is too pale, too cold, like the warmth is draining from her faster than I can hold it in.“Emma!” I scream, my voice cracking from the strain. “EMMA!”The world around me blurs—voices are shouting, boots scraping against the stone floor, people shifting, reacting—but all I see is her. Hope. My mate. My goddess. Lifeless.Tessa is suddenly beside me, dropping to her knees. Her face is pale, eyes wide with something I’ve never seen on her before—fear.“No,” she whispers, her hand trembling as she touches her sister’s arm. “Hope, no. You’re okay. You’re okay—right? Come on, please—come on.”Ben is behind her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, grounding her. His face is tight, jaw clenched, but his eyes betray it—wet and wide. Tessa’s hands are shaking violently now.“Step aside!” Clinton’s voice booms from behind the crowd. “Move! Let her through

TessaI stand in front of the wall of dresses, my fingers hovering over the fabric as though the touch alone could make everything better.As thought the beating of my chest would settle at the thought of making it through this.But it doesn’t.It won’t.I swallow, my throat tight, and mutter to myself, “You can do this, Tessa… just pick a color.”I try to focus on the task, trying to imagine what Hope would like, what would honor her.My eyes drift over the soft pastels, the delicate folds, the gentle patterns, and my chest tightens with each passing second.How am I supposed to dress my little sister… for the last time?My wolf lets out a sorrowful howl.It takes everything in not to join her, to keep standing even when all I want is to give in and collapse.I can’t even imagine what she would say if she were here.Maybe she’d laugh at me, tell me to pick something cheerful, that she doesn’t want everyone crying over her. But the thought twists the knife even deeper. She won’t be he

KeithHope’s childhood room smells like her.Lavender. A trace of old paper and lemon balm.The air is stale with mourning, too quiet to be real. I stand in front of her dresser, buttoning the dark collar of a suit I never wanted to wear.My hands shake, but I keep moving.Mechanical. Precise.One button after another.The tie is next.Black on black.Death’s uniform.She would have hated this.The pale sunlight creeping through the lace curtains throws fractured light across the room, glinting off the small glass animals still perched on her shelves.I catch my reflection in her mirror—haunted eyes, jaw set too tight, dark hair slicked back too carefully. I don’t look like myself. I look like the man expected to bury the girl he loves.I breathe in sharply and close my eyes.The bond is still there.Barely a whisper, but I feel it. The small echo that hasn’t faded since the moment I felt her slip away. It isn’t strong enough to be real, not in the way it used to be, but it’s somethin

HopeIt feels like my body isn’t mine.Heavy. Stiff. Distant.Like I’ve been floating somewhere far away and just slammed back into skin and bone.I try to move my fingers. They twitch sluggishly.My eyes are glued shut, my lashes sticky against my cheeks. My wolf stirs deep in my mind, stretching slowly like she’s been asleep too long.Where… am I?“Don’t try to move so quickly,” a masculine voice says, low and smooth. “You’ll get a head rush like you wouldn’t believe.”I know this voice. But it isn't something familiar, like family. It's the voice of someone I see in passing, maybe?Warm hands slip under my shoulders, lifting me gently, guiding me upright. My muscles protest, trembling. It’s like every limb has been asleep for days.A pillow is carefully tucked behind my head.Where am I? I wonder.What was I doing last?I can't seem to put the pieces together.A rim of cool metal presses against my lips.Liquid sloshes at the barrier of cracked skin, cooling, life giving.Water.Th

HopeThe moment Camille’s grandmother, Lady Elira, told me to call her while we made our way to the dining hall.She clasps her hand around my wrist, I know something is wrong.Her grip is deceptively gentle, but the way her claws subtly dig into the soft skin beneath my sleeve is a quiet warning.A message that says: You play nice now, or you bleed later.I paste on a pleasant expression, forcing my lips into a smile as she leads me through the grand double doors into the dining hall.I expect the room to be empty, maybe just Camille waiting for me—but the low hum of voices stills my steps.There are at least a dozen people already seated around the long obsidian table, their elegant clothing and upright postures immediately telling me one thing.Alpha pairs.And not just any Alphas. These are the kind of wolves that sit on council seats, that command packs large enough to tip the balance of power across the region.My stomach coils.I glance toward Camille at the head of the table.