Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 507

Chapter 507: Save HER

Command Centre

Hades

My life flashed before my eyes when the explosion rang out. There was no sound but it rang out in my head, shaking me to my very core. My body moved miles before my mind and I didn’t wait for the outcome of the explosion. I *couldn’t* wait to see if my life had ended. Too much of a coward to even dare.

But even as I raced to the exit of the command centre, the ground underneath me turned to quicksand and I found myself drowning even as I began to move. No matter how fast I ran, I was still too slow. I felt like a snail, moving along, dragged back by my own mucous.

At the same time, my mind had long begun to flip through all the memories of her. Of us.

The pain, the hate, the anger, the slow blossom of something more than enmity. My chest was close to bursting open, the pulse no longer a distant thrum, it was a deafening pounding against my skull.

A crackling cleaved through the cacophony that my mind had become, and for a moment I was not sure where I was, even as the wind hit me in the face, officers moving about with ammunition and supplies. The camp felt like a figment of my imagination. In my reality, the world had exploded the moment that bomb detonated with my wife just inches away from it.

The crackling persisted, until I snapped out of my suffocating panic, and clicked on the comm.

"—repeat, Luna is down! Luna is down! We need—"

My blood turned to ice.

"Status." My voice didn’t sound like mine. Too flat. Too cold. "Give me status. *Now*."

A pause. Static. Then Victoriana’s voice—strained, barely controlled.

"Morrison’s dead. Explosion successful. But—" Her voice cracked. "Eve and Gallinti were caught in the blast. They’re both critical. Deltas are—"

"Critical." The word felt foreign in my mouth. Wrong. "Define critical."

"Massive trauma. Blood loss. Eve’s—" Victoriana’s breath hitched. "Her back, Hades. The wound is—it’s bad. Really bad. The Deltas are working on her now but—"

"I’m coming."

"Hades, you can’t—the fronts need—"

"I’m. Coming."

I didn’t wait for a response.

I shifted mid-stride—bones cracking, wings erupting from my back, the vampire form tearing through me with a violence that should have hurt but didn’t. Nothing hurt except the *screaming* in my chest where the bond was.

I launched myself into the air.

The wind was brutal, tearing at my face, my wings beating hard enough that my shoulders burned. But it wasn’t fast enough.

*Nothing was fast enough.*

The gnawing that had plagued me for hours had become a *howl*—raw and agonized, like something vital was being carved out of me with a dull blade.

The bond.

I could still feel it. Thin. Frayed.

Barely there.

But *there*.

She was alive.

*She had to stay alive.*

Below me, Dawnstrike came into view—a scarred wasteland lit red by the Bloodmoon. Smoke still rose from the center of no-man’s-land, green-tinged and toxic. Bodies littered the ground. Soldiers moved like ghosts through the carnage.

And at the edge of the field, the Delta tent glowed with healing light.

I didn’t bother landing gently.

I dropped from the sky, wings folding, shifting back to lycan form before my boots hit the ground. The impact sent shockwaves through my legs but I was already running.

"HADES!" Someone shouted—one of the gammas, trying to intercept me.

I shoved past him.

Another soldier stepped in front of me. "Alpha, the Deltas said—"

"*Move.*"

Something in my voice made him flinch. He moved.

I reached the tent and tore the entrance flap aside.

The scene inside stopped me cold.

Eve lay on a cot—still in wolf form, too injured to shift back. Her massive black body was streaked with blood and sap and ash. Deltas swarmed around her, hands glowing, voices urgent and overlapping.

But it was her *back* that made my vision narrow.

A gaping wound stretched from her shoulders to her spine—deep enough that I could see *bone*. Ribs. The edge of a lung moving beneath torn muscle.

"—blood pressure dropping—"

"—need more hands here, she’s not stabilizing—"

"—keep the healing focused on the major vessels, if she bleeds out—"

One of the Deltas—Kerra, I recognized dimly—looked up and saw me.

Her face went pale.

"Alpha—"

"How bad." My voice was a rasp.

Kerra hesitated. "Bad. The wound is—one of the worst I’ve seen. We’re doing everything we can but—" She stopped, eyes darting back to Eve. "We’ve been healing soldiers for hours. Our energy reserves are low. More Deltas are coming from other fronts, but—"

"But what."

Kerra’s jaw tightened. "Time isn’t on our side."

My legs nearly gave out.

I moved forward, past the Deltas, and dropped to my knees beside Eve’s head.

Carefully—so carefully—I lifted her massive wolf skull and eased it into my lap. Her fur was matted with blood. Her breathing was shallow, labored.

"Keep working," I said to the Deltas, my voice rough. "I’m not in your way."

Kerra nodded and turned back to the wound, her hands glowing brighter as she poured healing energy into the torn flesh.

I ran my hand over Eve’s head, between her ears, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Fever. Shock. Her wolf was fighting, but—

Something *shifted* in my chest.

A pulling sensation. Like something was being slowly *drained* from me.

The Fenrir’s Chain.

The bond that tied us together—life to life, soul to soul.

I’d felt it before, in moments of danger. A tug. A warning.

But this—

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