Ch. I Refuse to Be Your Luna 133 I Refuse to Be Your Luna 133

Chapter 133 A Ride Home

Lady Flourish’s POV

Damian dropped Lucinda off first, pulling smoothly into the circular drive of the Stonehedge

estate.

The scent of home clung faintly to the hedges even from the car, familiar to my wolf now in a way it hadn’t been just weeks ago, pack and hearth-smoke and something distinctly, permanently Damian.

“See you at the anniversary, maybe?” Lucinda asked, leaning forward between the seats before climbing out.

“Maybe,” I said, offering a small smile that felt more genuine than I expected.

“Okay, Damian.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek from the back seat, entirely unaware of the storm of nerves currently churning through my stomach, and slipped out into the warm night air.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the car fell into a different kind of silence.

Damian pulled the car to the side of the road less than a block later, hazard lights blinking steadily against the dark, and cut the engine.

“Come sit up front,” he said. “My mate doesn’t ride in the back like a stranger.”

The words landed with a firmness that left no real room for argument, though I still hesitated half a second longer than necessary, glancing toward the estate gates still visible in the side mirror.

If anyone happened to glance out from the Stonehedge residence right now, there would be very little left to explain away.

I climbed into the passenger seat anyway, my pulse settling into something warm and unsteady the moment I caught the full weight of his scent this close, no longer diluted by a table’s worth of distance and Julian’s chatter.

My wolf practically melted into the leather seat, utterly shameless about how quickly she surrendered to it.

Damian’s lips curved faintly the instant my perfume reached him, some quiet, private satisfaction flickering behind his eyes before he eased the car back onto the road.

“Next Saturday,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping into something low and unhurried, almost lazy. “Your grandmother’s anniversary. Will you be heading up the mountain?”

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I shook my head, watching the streets blur past the window. “We don’t do the mountain every year. This time it’s being held at the estate. The women in the family usually handle the arrangements themselves.”

“I’ll come anyway,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question worth debating.

“Damian-”

“I already spoke to Bram,” he continued smoothly, cutting off whatever protest I’d been about to raise. “Given everything happening with Ashdown and Karl, I’m not comfortable with you gathering in one place without additional security nearby. Quietly, if it makes you more comfortable. No entourage, no announcement.” His voice stayed even, but the set of his shoulders had gone rigid in a way I recognized now, the particular stillness of an Alpha already three steps into planning for a threat he refused to let touch what was his.

My wolf went still at the reminder, some of the warmth from the evening cooling into something more watchful. I’d nearly let myself forget, for one entire evening, that somewhere out there, a man with a metallic, unfamiliar scent was still circling closer than either of us liked.

“You think they’d target something like a memorial?” I asked quietly, my wolf pricking her ears at the mere suggestion, some old, protective instinct rising to meet the thought of danger anywhere near a day meant for grief rather than war.

“I think Karl’s already shown he doesn’t care what he touches to get what he wants,” Damian said, his jaw tightening in the dim light of passing streetlamps. “I’d rather have guards nobody notices than regret not having them at all.”

I studied his profile for a long moment, the sharp line of his jaw, the steady, controlled calm he wore even now and felt something in my chest loosen despite the unease still humming beneath it.

“Alright,” I said softly. “Quietly, then.”

He reached over without looking, finding my hand resting against my knee and lacing his fingers through mine with an ease that suggested he’d been wanting to do exactly that since the moment I climbed into the front seat.

My wolf pressed toward the contact instantly, some deep, wordless part of her finally settling now that his warmth was close enough to actually touch, the low hum of the bond between us steadying into something almost peaceful despite everything we’d just discussed.

“There’s something else,” he said, after a quiet stretch of road had passed beneath us. “Bram traced the last of the shell account transfers this afternoon. Ashdown wired funds to a private courier two days ago. Small enough to look routine. Except the destination doesn’t match anywhere on Silver Moon’s usual trade routes.”

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I turned toward him fully now, my pulse climbing again for an entirely different reason. “Where did it go?”

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Damian’s grip on my hand tightened, just slightly, as the streetlights swept shadows across his face.

“Somewhere close enough that Bram thinks Karl isn’t planning to stay hidden much longer.”

The words settled heavy between us, filling the quiet car more thoroughly than the low hum of the engine ever could.

Outside, the streetlights blurred past in slow, steady rhythm, and I found myself watching Damian’s profile instead of the road, memorizing the calm, controlled line of his jaw as if it might anchor me against whatever was still coming.

My wolf didn’t relax again for the rest of the drive.

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Refuse To Be Your Luna

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