Filed to story: Luna Riannon and Alpha Brayden Novel
placed her palms on his chest.
“Fenrir, I know, but I can’t simply watch you fighting alone!” She rolled her eyes, which only caused his lips to curl.
“I am not done talking, Astrea.” Fenrir gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “I don’t want you to fight, but it was always your destiny. Don’t you see? Every event was connected to you, and I am afraid you will be the one to end all this.”
He pulled her into his chest and locked his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
“And when you are there, I will be by your side,” he assured her.
“I just hope no one I love suffers in the process.” Astrea gave home a half-smile, which faded almost instantly.
She lifted her head to the sky peppered with stars, and closed her eyes for just a moment, opening them almost instantly in shock.
“Gideon!” she screamed, searching for the king of the Western Lycan Kingdom. “Gideon!”
She found him next to the ambulance, helping people when their eyes locked, and he dropped everything, marching towards her.
“What is it?” His brows were knitted together.
“Where is Ria now?” She asked bluntly. “Can you check?”
Gideon’s eyes lost focus for a moment as he tried to mind-link his wife, but very soon, they were back to normal, a shadow running over his eyes as he couldn’t reach her.
“Can you call her over the phone?” Astrea suggested.
Gideon did not question her even for a moment. Riannon had to stay behind to help at the improvised first aid centre in the main Convocation building. In the first minutes, they all fell into chaos, and she helped them to organise everything effectively to accept the first wounded survivors.
After all, the closest hospital was also destroyed. On top of that, the Queen of the West was supposed to watch over the members of the Convocation and alert the group if they had to return urgently.
Gideon waited for her to reply, but the call went unanswered. He dialled again, the wrinkle between his brows deepening as he waited.
“I am returning!” He announced, placing his phone back in his pants. “Even if we are suddenly too far from each other for a mind link, it’s not like Riannon to not pick up her phone when I call.”
Astrea cast an anxious look at Fenrir.
“We will go with you,” she announced, and he nodded in agreement.
*
They did not find Riannon in the emergency medical centre she created just hours ago to help the Southerners.
Gideon’s roar shuttered the walls when their designated room also appeared to be empty.
Astrea felt her stomach churn.
“It cannot be good,” she muttered to Fenrir, hoping the Western King did not hear her.
“We need to confront Vidar and Joran,” her beloved laced their fingers together. “If she is missing, it’s definitely one of them.”
“If one hair falls from my wife’s head, the explosion would be the least of their problems!” Gideon growled, his eyes glowing golden.
“Listen,” Astrea stepped forward to reason with him, “I understand your feelings. I really do, but this is exactly what they want. This is all a game for them. They already made the North look bad, and I am afraid this may be the West’s turn. Don’t fall into this trap and support their narrative. We will get her back. I promise.”
“And if they hurt her?” The King bared his teeth, barely able to hold his wolf back.
“If they hurt her, you will have no time to do anything because I will kill them first. Whatever that costs me!” She felt bloodthirsty as fury rose in her chest after she locked her eyes with her brother-in-law. “No one touches my sister and stays alive!”
“It’s a deal then,” Gideon clenched his jaw, offering her his hand, which she shook firmly.
“O-kay,” Fenrir watched them both with concern. “How about I speak when we get in there?”
“You can speak as much as you like,” Gideon cut him off, ” but l am getting my wife back today.”
**
They entered the Alpha Convocation Hall and found them all in the same places at the long table, discussing something vigorously. Vidar stood near a large interactive screen and sneered when they walked in.
“Welcome,” he greeted the group. “We were about to invite you in any way.”
“Excuse us,” Fenrir strolled in, offering Astrea the seat at the head of the table just like the last time. The seat that was supposed to belong to the High Chancellor. “We were busy getting your people from under the rubble of destroyed buildings while you were here.”
Astrea glanced around quickly, noticing that Joran was missing.
“The Southern Lycan Republic thanks you for your help in this time of need,” Vidar smirked, bowing his head respectfully. “However, a few things were brought to our attention that we like to discuss.”
“Where is my wife?” Gideon gritted his teeth, clenching his fists so tight his knuckles turned white.
“The last time I checked, she was helping the survivors.” Vidar shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“Well, she is not there anymore,” Astrea chimed in, hoping Gideon could hold it together. “Her room is also empty.”
“It’s a bit chaotic right now because we were under a terrorist attack,” Vidar tried to downplay it, “but I am sure she is safe and sound. After all, the Queen of the West has so many people who care about her. I assure you, no one disappears in the South without a trace.”
It wasn’t really a threat, but it sure sounded like one to Astrea. Vidar knew about their connection.
Forrest cleared his throat, typing something on his phone. “I am sending my people to look for her right now.”
“Now, if you will allow me to continue,” Vidar changed the image on the interactive screen to showcase the projected Northern flag on one of the buildings in the capital. “Since it’s a direct attack of the North on the Republic, I suggest-“
“One picture doesn’t prove that the North was behind the attack!* Astrea interrupted his undoubtedly well-prepared speech. “They are obviously being set up!”
“I have to agree here,” one of the women at the table interjected. “It’s not enough to accuse them.”
“They literally have an army on our doorstep!” a councilman with grey hair added, rubbing his thick silver moustache. “We can’t ignore that.”
“But they didn’t attack, did they?” Fenrir leaned over the back of his chair. “Now would have been the perfect moment to attack, when the country is already devastated by this – disaster. Yet the North army didn’t move.”
“Well, this is simply because we took countermeasures!” Vidar said in a smug tone, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “And thanks to those measures, I have concrete proof that we are under a deliberate attack of the North.”
Astrea tensed in her seat. This couldn’t be good.
“What do you mean, Vincent?” Forrest furrowed his brows.
“Let me demonstrate!” He clicked his fingers, and the side door swung open, letting in two men dragging a woman dressed in red. They threw her to the ground in front of everyone, her ebony black hair covering her face.
Every muscle in Astrea’s body strained because she did not need to see that face. She knew exactly who that was.
“Meet the witch behind the atrocities performed by the Northern Lycan Kingdom!” Vidar lifted his chin, smug at his little victory. “Salome Gray.”
Joran was so empty inside, yet his chest felt heavy. As if that wall was still on his shoulders, obstructing his airways.
* He couldn’t even remember if Astrea thanked him for saving her life. That girl always took everything he did for her for granted, and he was getting fed up with it.
He closed his eyes, and immediately, the image of Fenrir holding her painted itself in his mind. The way she looked at him. The way he touched her… these things repulsed him and hurt him more than anything before. Just why did he let himself be that attached to her? Wasn’t losing a brother enough? Did he have to create even more pain for himself?
He used to imagine how he would live with Astrea and how Fenrir one day would accept them for her sake. He used to believe he was the remedy to their curse, imagining the picture-perfect family.
Now they will have this picture, but cut him out of it. He was alone again.
Joran rubbed his forehead. He needed a swim. Or at least a shower. Water was the first element he ever mastered, and it still managed to bring him peace. Not to mention that he wanted to get rid of Astrea’s lingering scent. It was driving him crazy, more than he cared to admit.
The elevator doors opened, and his heart sank at the sight before him. The once luxurious and pristine space he was so proud to call his was now a scene of chaos and destruction. The doors were broken, furniture upturned, glass shattered, and debris scattered across the floor. It was as if a tempest had turned through the room, leaving nothing unscathed. And bodies… several dead bodies lay in awkward positions around, some missing limbs.
Joran was too physically tired and too emotionally exhausted to process it all, so it took him a few seconds to notice that amidst the wreckage, there was a figure lying on the ground in a pool of ruby-red blood.