His Fierce Lycan Luna novel Chapter 1

GANNON

The steering wheel is cool beneath my palms as I navigate the forested road. Trees, tall and sturdy, flank the path. In the passenger seat, Abbie’s outline is motionless against the window, her reflection ghostly as she watches the world speeding by.

I steal a glance in her direction, noting the distant look that clouds her eyes—dulled by shadows I cannot chase away. The silence between us isn’t empty; it’s laden with the weight of unsaid words, echoes of her pain that neither of us can voice. I grip the wheel a tad tighter, my knuckles betraying the concern etched within me.

I can tell she’s lost in her thoughts, probably replaying the horrors she’s endured. It’s why I’m doing this—taking her away from the castle, from all the memories that haunt her. She needs this break, a chance to breathe, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

We’re heading to a secluded cabin I know about, a place used as a safe house in case of emergencies. It’s far from everything, surrounded by nothing but nature. I figure it’s the perfect spot for Abbie to find some peace, even if it’s just for a little while.

“Almost there,” I murmur, more to myself than to Abbie, though I hope the words might bring her back to the present. The tires crunch over the gravel as I pull into the last grocery store before we head out to the cabin. Abbie, however, refuses to come in with me and waits in the car.

The bell above the grocery store door jingles as I push it open, stepping into the muted fluorescent lights that flicker casting long shadows between the aisles. The familiar scent of polished floors and fresh produce greets me. I grab a basket.

Each item found its way into the basket with a soft thud—bread, cheese, cans of soup. My mind, however, lingers on Abbie’s quiet presence waiting in the car. When I passed the candy aisle, a flash of red catches my eye. I pause, my gaze fixing on the strawberry cloud candies snug between bags of chocolate. They are her favorite; little sugary puffs that might sweeten the bitterness life had dealt her lately or so I hope. I pick up two bags, tossing them into the basket.

Ten minutes later, the cabin comes into view. As we draw nearer, I steal a glance at Abbie. Her eyes wide and watchful—beautiful and wary.

“Abbie,” I break the silence as I park the car, “you’re safe with me.” I turn off the engine, letting the weight of assurance settle over my words. “There’s no one around for miles. This is a safe place.”

Her eyes flicker to mine, searching for the truth in them, seeking the promise of safety I desperately want to give her. I reach into the back to retrieve the groceries.

Stepping out of the car, I close the door with a soft thud, studying Abbie. She nods in response to my promise, her lips caught between her teeth, betraying her nerves. Together, we climb the steps, and I unlock the door. The air inside is still cold enough to make Abbie wrap her arms around herself. Without hesitation, I slip off my jacket and place it over her slender shoulders, the fabric swallowing her frame.

“Let me get some wood for the fire,” I say, moving toward the pile of logs stacked by the hearth. I’ll need to chop more up. This won’t last the night. Kneeling, I can feel the weight of her gaze on me.

I turn back to see her perched delicately on the edge of the rustic bed, the room’s centerpiece crafted from thick, interlocking logs.

The room grows quiet, save for the settling of the old wooden beams and the distant whisper of wind through the pines outside.

I watch as she draws a deep breath, seeming to gather the scattered pieces of herself, finding some measure of control.

“I need to gather more wood. I’ll be outside,” I tell her.

Stepping into the crisp air, I let the screen door close gently behind me; its soft click punctuates the silence within. The axe rests in the same place I left it months ago, against the chopping block, its handle roughened from years of use.

I roll up my sleeves, feeling the chill bite at my skin as I grip the wooden handle. Grabbing a log, I set to work. Each swing is a release of pent-up tension, the blade splitting through the logs with satisfying thuds that echo in the quiet forest clearing.

With every piece of wood I stack, my thoughts drift back to Abbie and I lose myself in the task. The muscles in my arms burn with exertion, mirroring the ache in my chest for her suffering. She needs time and space.

The scent of pine needles and freshly split wood mingles in the air, a natural balm to the senses. I’ve always loved being outdoors. I glance towards the cabin when I hear movement inside the large cabin.