Page 34 of His Found Lycan Luna

“I stole the key from Gannon; it’s for the laundry door,” she whispers, nodding to the one we just came out of. Behind the kitchens, it runs alongside the far gardens where the fruit trees meet the forest.

“Run along the river and head west. Keep going, and you will find a bridge. Meet us at the bridge. He said he will help me get you out. Be there at 7 PM sharp,” she whispers, and I nod, pulling another sheet down from the clothesline. My lips quirk in the corners.

“You convinced him,” I smile, my heart leaping inside my chest.

“Yes, but he said if you’re late, we can’t wait. He said he doesn’t want to be caught waiting outside the town limits,” she tells me, and I nod. Gazing at the sky, the clouds are moving indark and heavy, and it’s going to be one hell of a storm when it hits. I just hope I won’t get caught in it.

“And you’re sure he won’t tell on me?”

“He promised me,” she whispers before reaching over and gripping my arm. “We will be free, just not the freedom we used to long for, but actual freedom, freedom to live,” she whispers, with tears in her eyes. “Always and forever.”

“More than my life,” I say in return.

“More than my life, always more,” she repeats. We finish dragging the clothes in off the line and walk back through the laundry doors when Abbie shrieks. I turn to look back at her as she rubs a spot on her back and growls. Laughter reaches my ears, and Abbie turns to see a rotten apple splattered against her back.

“Peter, you little shit,” Abbie hisses, dropping her basket and chasing after him, picking up rotten apples that had fallen beneath the trees. Peter, the stable boy, always finds a way to cause mischief and get away with it. I watch his mop of curly hair bounce up and down as he runs off, dodging Abbie’s advances.

Abbie shrieks when he pelts another her way. She lobs one back, and I laugh at her trying to hit him with the apples while her shrill cries and his laughter fill the silence.

Abbie retrieves another apple and tosses it where he goes to dart behind the castle wall just as Dustin walks around. The mushy apple smacks him in the face, and he freezes on the spot, stunned for a second before wiping the mush off.

Abbie snickers, trying to muffle her laughter at hitting the guard. Peter hides behind him before popping his head out and sticking his tongue out at Abbie. Dustin wipes the mushy apple off his clothes, growling. I laugh at the sight of bits of apples sticking to his crisp, clean uniform, and a chunk stuck in his stubble.

Dustin’s eyes go to Abbie, and she points at me; my eyes widen, and I shake my head, but he looks ridiculous with apple mush stuck to his face, and I chuckle. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“You think this is funny, My Queen?” he asks, a hint of a smile onhis lips. I snicker before stopping when he walks over to the apple tree, making Abbie squeal and rush toward me before using me as a shield. Dustin picks up a gross-looking apple that’s nearly crumbling in his hand.

Dustin tosses the apple in the air a couple of times, letting it mush up more before he laughs and throws it. I shriek and duck, falling on top of Abbie, only to hear him gasp, and Peter burst out laughing, holding his tummy and pointing behind us. Abbie and I look behind us to see Clarice covered in the rotted mush.

We both tense, waiting for the scolding as she steps closer, examining her soiled apron.

She looks back up, and her eyes go to us on the ground. Abbie and I both point to Dustin standing by the apple tree with Peter. We glance in their direction to find Dustin pointing the blame at Peter.

Clarice glares, and we all freeze in place as the old woman stalks toward us before ripping her apron off. “Apple war it is, then,” she huffs, a look of wild excitement on her face. Then she runs over and scoops up some apples. Abbie and I giggle before jumping up and joining the fray.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Damian stands by my office window, his gaze lost in whatever he’s watching outside. His chuckle catches my ear, and I glance up, curious but trying not to show it because I know that will give them an excuse to try to pull me away from work.

I keep my focus on the maps spread across my desk, tracing the patterns of the recent attacks along the river. The river isn’t deep enough for boats, just canoes, maybe. Each body found is a taunt, marked with a hunter’s or rebel’s patch, a gruesome display designed to provoke. No scents, no clues, nothing - it’s like chasing ghosts.

Yet they were always laid out and on display like they wanted them found and were merely taunting us.

The location they were always found was never near enough to any packs to pinpoint one, and they were nowhere near any human settlements, so it was a mystery, as always. One that had been doing my head in for years.

The main perpetrator of the werewolfrebellion that was helping the hunters was proven dead. Marissa, Ivy’s mother, has been dead for years, so who is leading them now?

It makes no sense to me. It was also the reason after my sister’s death, no werewolves could set foot in my castle grounds except Alpha Kade, and of course, Abbie and Ivy, who were the first werewolf servants we had in over a decade. Werewolves couldn’t be trusted, and everyone was scrutinized before ever entering through my castle gates.

But the laughter from Gannon and Damian is a distraction I can’t ignore for long. “They wanna run now. That old woman has a good arm on her.” Gannon’s amusement pulls me from the frustrating puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for decades.

I glance up from examining the dots on the map. I’m looking for some sort of pattern to see Gannon and Damian watching out the window. Both of them hold silly grins of amusement.

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” Damian snickers.

“What are you both staring at?” I ask, and Gannon turns slightly to look over his shoulder at me.

“Apple war,” he laughs.

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