His Rogue Luna is a Princess (Mia and Derek) novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220

gave a dry laugh.

“Welcome to being the Moonstone Princess,” I muttered.

He smiled faintly.

“You need a vacation.”

I arched an eyebrow at him.

“Last time I tried to take a vacation, I was held hostage and nearly lost our son.”

He winced. “Fair point.”

The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself.

“Besides,” I said more seriously, “there’s no real escape from this. From any of it. Whoever tried to sever our bond… they’re still out there. And Maggie-”

I cut myself off, swallowing hard.

Derek didn’t press.

He just let me sit there, unraveling in small, exhausted pieces.

When dinner came, I picked at my food more than ate it.

Derek didn’t comment.

We finished in silence and walked back across the parking lot, the night cool and damp with impending rain.

At my door, I hesitated, keycard in hand.

Derek lingered beside me, his hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets.

The air between us was charged again.

Not with anger.

Not with frustration.

With something softer.

Something older.

Something dangerous.

He shifted his weight slightly, like he wanted

to step

er but was holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“If you…” he cleared his throat. “If you wanted company tonight… I’d stay.”

His voice was low, rough at the edges.

Not a demand.

Not a seduction.

An offer.

Simple. Honest. Devastating.

Nox howled inside me, clawing at the walls of my chest.

1/3

Yes, she screamed. Yes, yes, yes.

But I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“I think…” I said softly, “I need some time.”

He nodded immediately, without hurt, without pressure,

“I understand.”

The words wrapped around me gently.

I touched his wrist lightly, a fleeting brush.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded again, stepped back, and walked away into the night without looking back.

I let myself into my room and collapsed onto the bed without even pulling the covers down.

Sleep came fitfully–torn and jagged, full of restless dreams I couldn’t remember when I woke.

The next morning, we returned to the prison.

Security was tighter this time–bristling guards, dogs that sniffed us up and down, multiple layers of ID checks.

I hated every second of it.

The lead guard was a tall, broad–shouldered man with deep scars running along his jawline.

He escorted us through the layers of locked doors and finally into a sterile visitation room.

Before we could enter, he paused, holding up a hand.

“You’re Moonstone?” he asked, eyes on me.

I nodded.

He held up a small silver dagger in a clear evidence bag.

“This was found on the prisoner,” he said. “You have the option to press trespassing and attempted assault charges.”

I frowned at the dagger.

Something about it tugged at the back of my mind.

Familiar.

Wrong.

But the memory wouldn’t surface.

“I’m not pressing charges,” I said slowly. “But I can’t speak for my father.‘

The guard nodded stiffly and unlocked the door.

Inside, Maggie sat at a bolted–down table, heavy chains binding her wrists and ankles to the chair.

I flinched.

“Is all that really necessary?” I asked, appalled.

The guard gave me a look that brooked no argument.

“For everyone’s safety,” he said simply..

Derek stepped forward, bristling, but I touched his arm lightly.

“Do you mind waiting outside?” 1 asked softly.

He hesitated–then, reluctantly, nodded.

“I’ll be right here.”

The guards withdrew with him, the door hissing shut behind the

Leaving me alone with Maggie.

She looked up at me with hollow, red–rimmed eyes.

She looked like hell.

Thin. Pale.

Her hair a tangled

mess around. her face.

Slowly, carefully,

the I crossed room and crouched beside

her,

igi

I reached out and touched her arm

gently.

“Are

they treating

you well?” I asked.

Her mouth trembled.

“Do you have an attorney?”

Tears spilled

over her cheeks.

*

“What’s going on, Maggie?”

She sobbed harder, her shoulders shaking violently.

773

And then–broken

and desperate–she

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