Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 508

Chapter 508: Shivering

HADES

The painstaking hours that passed were the longest of my life, and all I could do was hold her. She didn’t stir—not once. My heart remained perpetually lodged in my throat. The world blurred into nothing; all that existed was her and her fading heartbeat.

My heart didn’t race—it beat slowly, in sync with hers. Everything about her was fading, dwindling. Her scent. Her presence. Her warmth. I gripped her tighter as if I could pull her back together, as if she were slipping through my fingers.

Hours later, still, none of the Deltas spoke. Not that I could have heard them anyway. The only update was that more Deltas had arrived—most of them from the Shadowhunt division. The last time I had managed to pull myself out of the haze in my mind, they were healing the other Gammas.

I stroked her fur. She had been unable to shift back to her usual form. I was sure Rhea was keeping her alive—maintaining her in her larger wolf state because a wound that massive in her smaller, human form would have been catastrophic. She never would’ve survived it.

Her healing had slowed drastically—barely 0.5% progress—because of the strain and the platinum embedded in the Verdantin. She was still part werewolf; she wasn’t completely impervious to its effects.

If it had been any other Gamma or Commander, being that close to an explosive would’ve blown them to smithereens. And Eve knew that. It was why she shielded Gallinti the way she did.

"I’m sorry," a distant voice murmured. It was so faint I wasn’t sure I heard it at first.

Numbly, I tore my gaze from Eve for the first time in hours. I met Gallinti’s contrite stare.

He swallowed hard, sinking to his knees beside Eve’s massive form. "She saved me. It should have been me," he whispered.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how. My mouth felt like it weighed a ton. Maybe a part of me was breaking. I looked away from him.

I heard him swallow again. "She’s truly so strong," he muttered, voice trembling. "She will make it." He didn’t sound convinced.

"Done," a Delta finally announced. "We’ve regenerated the damaged tissues, formed new ribs, woven new muscle fibers, and closed the wound." I knew she listed each step to reassure me, but it only made the anvil in my stomach double in weight. Eve had lost so much of herself in this war—and it was only the first day.

She still didn’t stir. She remained limp in my arms, but slowly—now that the gaping hole in her back had closed—she shifted back. Fur receded into red hair. Her olive skin was now a cadaverous gray. Her cheeks were sunken; her breathing shallow.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming like a madman. Instead, I gathered her closer, searching for heat at her core.

All I found was the whisper of a breath leaving her as she twitched. Relief washed through me so violently that my head went light for a second and a tear slipped down my face.

I feathered a kiss onto her clammy, gray forehead, my tears dripping onto her skin. I shook with the fragile relief of knowing that there was even a shadow of a chance that I wouldn’t lose her.

"Alpha—there’s something else." A Delta hesitated. "The pups are alive. Her body refused to let us touch them. It’s a miracle, but her body is keeping her alive as well as the pups. It will slow her regeneration, but all three of them could survive."

I stared at the Delta.

"What?"

She smiled—tired, but genuine. "The pups, Alpha. They’re still alive. We tried to divert energy to stabilize the Luna, but her body fought us. Kept routing healing energy to them. We’ve never seen anything like it." She paused. "She’s protecting them. Even now. Even unconscious."

My throat closed.

I looked down at Eve—gray, skeletal, barely breathing.

But fighting.

Still fighting.

"How long," I rasped, "until she’s out of danger?"

The Delta’s smile faded. "Days. Maybe a week. Her body is prioritizing the pups, which means her own healing will be—" She stopped. "Slow. Very slow. But if we keep monitoring her, if we keep supporting her vitals, all three of them should survive. But like always, she could still well surprise us."

Should.

Not will.

Should.

I nodded, unable to speak.

The Delta squeezed my shoulder briefly, then moved away.

I sat there, Eve’s head still cradled in my lap, my hand in her hair.

"You stubborn, reckless, impossible woman," I whispered. My voice broke. "You saved them. Even when I—" I stopped, swallowing hard. "Even when I chose you. You chose all of us."

I leaned down, pressed my forehead to hers.

"I love you," I whispered. "I love you, Red. So come back. Please. Just—come back."

She didn’t stir.

But her heartbeat—faint, fragile, but there—beat steadily beneath my palm.

And I held on.

---

I didn’t know how much time passed.

Minutes. Hours. The world beyond the tent had ceased to exist. There was only Eve—her shallow breathing, her cold skin, the faint pulse beneath my fingertips.

The tent flap rustled.

I didn’t look up.

"Hades."

Victoriana’s voice. Quiet. Careful.

I still didn’t move.

She stepped closer, and I heard her breath catch when she saw Eve—gray, skeletal, barely recognizable.

Victoriana’s jaw tightened. "There’s been a lull. Morrison’s forces scattered after he died. We’ve had some passive exchanges—sniping, small skirmishes—but nothing major. Not for the past few hours. We’re almost done clearing the field."

I finally looked at her. "Casualties?"

Victoriana’s expression darkened. "Fifteen percent of Dawnstrike didn’t make it. Forty-three dead. Sixty-two wounded, twelve critical." She paused. "But we’re holding. The division is battered, but intact. And it’s because of her."

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