His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Cassian’s Perspective

I forced myself to halt my restless pacing. My boots had already worn a distinct trail into the thick rug beneath me, the tension inside me so palpable that even the shadows in the dimly lit library seemed to shift uneasily. The air was heavy, charged with a silent urgency that gnawed at my nerves.

I wanted nothing more than to strike something, to hurl an object across the room and feel the release of raw frustration.

Damn it, this was the last thing I needed weighing down the already heavy burden of the crown on my shoulders.

Slowly, I sank into the chair opposite Verity, my eyes locked on her pale, motionless form. Since she collapsed, she hadn’t moved a muscle. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle, steady rhythm that was both a balm and a torment for me—each breath a reminder of her fragility, yet also of her resilience.

I hadn’t even noticed Kin slipping away until I glanced toward the doorway and found it empty. A low curse escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“Keep an eye on him,” I instructed Caleb without diverting my gaze from Verity. “From now on, I don’t want her alone with Kin. It’s not that I don’t trust him—it’s just… things have changed. It’s better to be cautious than regretful.”

Caleb frowned but nodded silently. He didn’t need me to explain. Kin wasn’t inherently cruel, but there was a coldness in his eyes whenever Verity’s name came up, a sharpness in his tone that unsettled me deeply. Kin was many things—brash, blunt, stubborn to a fault—but he wasn’t hostile without reason. Yet, around Verity, something was different. Something darker.

I clenched my jaw, trying to push down the unease twisting in my gut.

The truth was, I wasn’t ready to confront Kin. Not yet. Every time someone spoke of Verity with anything less than reverence, a part of me snapped. A fierce, primal rage stirred within—my wolf, restless and protective, snarling beneath the surface, ready to defend her with everything it had.

That raw, wild part of me unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

I exhaled slowly, forcing calm back into my chest.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire and the faint rustle of Caleb moving through the shelves. Then, finally, his voice cut through the quiet.

“I found something,” he said softly.

My head snapped toward him, alert.

“Where?” I demanded.

“In the catacombs,” he replied, locking eyes with me. “It was buried behind some old records. I wasn’t searching for anything specific—just following a hunch. And I came across a piece of parchment. It looked like it had been torn from something larger—a scroll, maybe a book. Whatever it belonged to, I couldn’t find the rest.”

He paused, his expression darkening.

My curiosity sharpened. “What did it say?”

Instead of speaking, Caleb reached into his coat and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. The edges were tattered, the ink faded but still legible enough. He placed it carefully in my hand.

The fragile parchment felt like a dangerous thing—too delicate, too important—and I knew I had to handle it with care.

Slowly, I unfolded it. The text was written in the ancient language, the one only used for the most sacred and secret writings—texts the old ones didn’t want just anyone to read.

The words were incomplete, torn off mid-sentence, but what remained was enough to make my breath catch.

“…a king shall lose his mate, as foretold, so the path may be cleared for another. One who shall be his d—”

The rest was missing.

My eyes lingered on the final letter: D.

But what truth did she truly hold?

My wolf pressed insistently against me, restless and desperate, urging me to accept what fate had already written. But I couldn’t—not without knowing for sure. Not when so much hung in the balance.

“This isn’t enough,” I muttered, eyes fixed on the torn sentence. “I need the whole thing. The full text, wherever it is. I can’t make decisions based on scraps.”

Caleb didn’t argue. He just inclined his head. “Then we’ll find it.”

Still, one undeniable truth had already taken root deep inside me.

If Verity truly was my second chance mate.

If the goddess had chosen her for me.

Then I would not—could not—let her slip away.

Not to Veyran. Not to Kin’s suspicion. Not to fate itself.

I leaned back, my gaze drifting once more to her. The firelight danced across her skin, making it glow like delicate porcelain. Her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks. She looked impossibly fragile, as if the slightest touch might shatter her completely. And yet, beneath that fragile surface, I sensed something else—something strong, waiting patiently to awaken.

She was mine.

And if destiny had granted me this second chance, then by the gods, I would fight with every fiber of my being to protect it.

No one—not Kin, not Veyran, not even the goddess herself—would take her away from me.