All Chapters of His Regret,Her Revenge: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The world narrowed to a single point. The door was closing. I could see it moving, slow and inevitable, the heavy wood swinging shut with a groan that seemed to shake the very ground beneath my feet. The light from the chamber was already beginning to dim, the symbols on the walls flickering like dying embers, their golden glow fading into shadow. I ran. My legs pumped beneath me, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. I could hear Xavier shouting my name, his voice desperate and raw, cutting through the thick silence of the cellar. But I couldn't see him. The light was too bright, the shadows too deep. I just ran toward the sound, toward the door, toward everything I couldn't afford to lose. I reached the threshold just as the door was about to close. I threw myself forward, my shoulder slamming against the wood. Pain shot through my arm, radiating down to my fingertips, but I didn't stop. I pushed, using every ounce of strength I had, forcing the door open just w

I woke to the sound of birds. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—wooden beams, rough and aged, with sunlight filtering through a small window. The bed beneath me was soft, the blankets warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, my body didn't ache. My muscles were loose, my mind quiet. It felt like I'd been asleep for years instead of days. Then the memories came rushing back. The seal. The chamber. Cordelia. Xavier. I sat up so fast my head spun, the room tilting around me. "Xavier!" "He's fine." I turned. Iris was sitting in a chair by the window, her hands folded in her lap, her face pale but calm. She looked like she'd been there for a long time, like she hadn't moved from that spot since I'd been carried back. "He's in the next room," she continued, her voice soft but steady. "He's going to be okay. He needs rest, but he's going to be okay." I sagged back against the pillows, the relief washing over me like a wave. My

Dawn broke over the sanctuary, painting the sky in shades of pale gold and soft pink. I stood at the window of my room, watching the light creep across the treetops, feeling the warmth seep through the glass. The world outside was waking up, birds beginning their morning songs, the wind rustling through the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The mark on my shoulder was quiet this morning. Not dormant—just patient. Like it was waiting for me to make up my mind. I already had. The decision had been forming in my chest for days, growing stronger with each passing hour. It had started as a whisper, a tiny voice I tried to ignore. But the whisper had grown into a roar, and now I couldn't silence it. I couldn't pretend I didn't hear it anymore. I had to go back. Not because I belonged there. Not because I missed Ezekiel or the life I'd left behind. But because I had unfinished business. Because the pack needed to see who I really was. Because I needed to prove to myself

The silence in the main hall was absolute, pressing down on me from all sides like a physical weight I could barely support. I could feel the heat of every pair of eyes fixed on me—the pack elders frozen mid-conversation, their faces slack with shock; the gathered members who had drifted in from the corridors, drawn by the whispers spreading like wildfire; the guards who had followed me inside with uncertain steps, their hands hovering near their weapons. The weight of their stares pressed against my skin, hot and suffocating. But I didn't look away from Ezekiel. I held his gaze, watching the war play out behind his eyes, the battle between pride and pain, guilt and longing. His face was a mask of barely contained emotion, cracks appearing in the armor he'd worn for so long. I could see the muscles in his jaw working, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He looked broken. Truly broken. The man who had once towered over me, who had dismissed me with a cold glance and a flat

Three days.Three days since the applause. Three days since the pack had finally seen me. Three days since Ezekiel had knelt in the garden and spoken words I'd waited years to hear.Three days of peace I should have known wouldn't last.The knock came at dawn, sharp and urgent, splintering the fragile quiet of the morning. I sat up in bed, my heart already racing, a cold dread settling into my bones like ice water seeping through cracks. Something was wrong. I could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken, in the way the silence pressed in from all sides, heavy and suffocating.I opened the door.Marcus stood there, his face ashen, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the note he was clutching. He was the young guard who had greeted me at the gate, the one who had looked at me with such hope and fear. Now he looked like he'd seen a ghost—like the weight of what he was about to tell me was crushing him from the inside out."Luna," he said, his voice barely above a whisp