His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: A HUG

Verity’s Perspective

The heavy, ancient book slipped quietly back into its hidden niche, landing with a soft thud that stirred up tiny specks of dust. They danced briefly in the dim glow, catching the light like fleeting memories released from the shadows of time. The shelves themselves seemed to exhale, as if relieved to have shared their long-guarded secrets, even if only for a moment. My fingers hesitated on the cracked leather cover, reluctant to part from the worn surface. So many pages remained unexplored—stories waiting patiently to be uncovered—but my mind felt weighed down, sluggish under the burden of the revelations I had just absorbed.

I promised myself I would return tomorrow, perhaps when the daylight softened the words, making them less intrusive—less likely to burrow beneath my skin and haunt my dreams.

Turning away toward the exit, my steps light and cautious on the polished marble floor, an unexpected sound suddenly halted me.

At first, it was barely audible—faint echoes drifting through the vast palace corridors. But quickly, the noise grew louder, voices overlapping in frantic, panicked shouts. The urgent pounding of boots against marble shattered the calm silence that had settled moments before, each step sharp and fast, echoing through the halls like thunder.

A sharp jolt of alarm surged through me.

I froze, my heart pounding wildly, breath catching in my throat. What could be happening?

Just minutes ago, the castle had been so still. I had never heard such chaos at this hour. Was there an intruder? Were we under attack?

The library doors lay ahead, still some distance away, but each step toward them felt heavier, as if I were trudging through thick, invisible mud. My pulse raced, and my mind spiraled into worst-case scenarios—none of them comforting.

The pounding footsteps drew nearer, their echoes bouncing off the cold stone walls, filling the space with a frantic, chaotic rhythm.

I was barely halfway to the door when it suddenly flew open, slamming harshly against the frame.

Cassian was the first to enter.

His eyes were wide with urgency, his shoulders stiff with tension, every muscle in his body taut as if he had run all the way here without pause. Behind him came Caleb and Kin, both wearing alert expressions—sharp, watchful, dangerous.

Their eyes didn’t linger on the books or the shelves. Instead, they scanned the room like predators searching for prey.

And then, finally, their gaze settled on me.

Caleb visibly relaxed, releasing a long breath as his hand fell from where it had been clenched near his side.

Kin was harder to read. His eyebrows knitted slightly, his jaw unclenched, and though his face didn’t soften completely, I caught a flicker of relief before he masked it once more. That was unexpected—especially considering he usually looked like he’d rather toss me into the nearest pit than stand beside me.

But Cassian—

Cassian—the man I had only glimpsed in brief, tense moments, the king who ruled the most feared kingdom in the world—was holding me like I was something precious he had nearly lost.

All the shouting, the pounding footsteps, the frantic rush into the library—it had been for me?

I glanced over Cassian’s shoulder and saw Caleb watching quietly, his expression calm now, almost tender. Kin stood a little farther back, arms crossed, but the usual sneer or scowl was gone.

Cassian remained wrapped around me for several seconds, each one grounding him more firmly. I could feel the faint vibration of his voice against my skin as he murmured something I couldn’t quite catch—perhaps my name.

At last, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at me, though his hands still gripped my shoulders as if to keep me rooted in place. His eyes searched my face, lingering as if seeking reassurance.

I found myself speechless. Not that words would have come easily even if I’d wanted to speak. And even if I had spoken, I wasn’t sure they would have mattered in that moment.

Because the way he looked at me—like I had been snatched from the jaws of his worst nightmare—was so raw, so deeply caring, it made it impossible for me to think clearly at all.

The sudden embrace from Cassian shattered the fragile quiet that had settled over the castle, flooding me with a surge of emotions that left me breathless and stunned. In that fleeting instant, the walls of fear and uncertainty crumbled, replaced by an unspoken connection that spoke louder than any words could. The intensity of his touch, the urgency in his voice, and the way he held me as if I were the most precious thing in the world revealed a depth of feeling simmering beneath the surface, finally breaking free in the face of danger.

As the echoes of hurried footsteps faded away, the silence that returned was no longer empty but filled with a tender, fragile hope. My shock softened into a profound awareness of the bond we shared—a silent pulse beating between us that promised strength and solace amid the chaos. Though the path ahead remained uncertain, this moment of vulnerability and care marked a turning point—a reminder that even in the darkest hours, connection and compassion could light the way forward.