The Alpha's Borrowed Luna (Abigail Hayes) novel Chapter 260

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The Alpha’s Borrowed Luna

Chapter 260

That’s impossible.” His denial as instant, absolute. “There’s more this than you know.”

A third explosion cut off my reply, more violent than the previous t. Sections of the ceiling began to collapse, the temperature in the room rising rapidly as fires spread through the complex.

“Go get Caleb, don’t let him escape; I’ll join you,” Frost urged, already backing toward the door.

I wanted to stop him, to make him understand the truth about the woman he was risking his life for. But the building shuddered again, more violently this time, and I knew we had no time to argue

“Be careful,” was all I said.

With a nod, he disappeared through the door, leaving me alone with my mother’s body and my rage.

I tracked Caleb through the disintegrating complex, following the scent of his blood. The elder had moved with purpose, avoiding the spreading fires with the instinct of someone who knew exactly which areas would explode next. Each detonation seemed strategically planned, designed to collapse the structure in stages rather than all at once.

I caught sight of him ascending a staircase, his injuries already healed as he moved toward what must be an exit. I couldn’t let him escape–not after what he’d done to my mother, to my pack, to me.

Drawing upon a burst of feral speed ignited by the lycan within, I launched myself up the wall beside the staircase, scaling it with inhuman agility. I dropped directly into Caleb’s path, my sudden appearance drawing a flash of surprise across his ancient features.

“Going somewhere?” I growled, my voice barely recognizable.

He recovered quickly, his stance shifting to combat readiness. “You’re persistent, I’ll grant you that. But you’re also dying, Lycan. I can smell the weapon’s poison in your blood.”

He was right–the cursed blade he’d used on me earlier had left its mark, the wolf’s bane still circulating through my system. But the Lycan within me was stronger than either of us had anticipated, feeding on my rage, burning through the toxin with each passing

moment.

I struck first, a feint to his left followed by a brutal right hook that connected with his jaw. The impact sent him stumbling backward down several steps. I pressed my advantage, unleashing a flurry of blows that drove him further down the staircase.

Caleb recovered quickly, centuries of combat experience evident in his counter–attack. He moved like liquid, evading my next strike and landing a devastating blow to my ribs. I felt something crack, pain lancing through my side, but the Lycan’s fury embed it almost immediately.

We crashed through a doorway, our battle carrying us into what appeared to be some kind of laboratory. Broken glass crunched beneath our feet as we grappled, trading savage blows that would have killed a normal werewolf. Blood–his and mine–spattered the walls and floor, leaving crimson trails as we fought across the room.

Another explosion rocked the building, more violent than the previous ones. The ceiling began to collapse, forcing us to dodge falling debris even as we continued our deadly dance.

“You can’t win,” Caleb taunted, evading my grasp once more. “Even if you kill me, you’ll never escape this place alive.”

“Then we’ll die together,” I snarled, driving him backward into a bank of equipment.

He slipped in a pool of his own blood, momentarily losing his balance. I seized the opportunity, my hand closing around his throat, Tifting him off the ground as he had done to Frost earlier.

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Chapter 260.

But Caleb wasn’t finished. With a desperate twist, he drove something into my side a pain so intence, so immediate that my pl faltered. I staggered backward looking down to see the cursed elder blade embedded in my abdomen, its ancient metal gear with my blood.

I felt a stab to my side, and my whole body seemed to freeze. I stared at the cursed weapon now embedded in my abdomen. The elder blade—the same weapon that had been intended to strip me of my wolf nature, now plunged deep into my flesh, Cold spread from the wound, a creeping numbness that extinguished the fire of the Lycan within.

I knew what this weapon does; it strips one of his wolves, but for the elders, it kills them. Caleb took a step back, triumph gleaming

in his eyes.

“You see?” he gloated, watching me struggle to remain standing. “In the end, even the mighty Lycan falls.

But he had made a critical mistake–coming within my reach again, assuming my defeat was certain. With strength born of pure hatred, I pulled out the dagger from my side, and with my last breath, I stabbed it right through his heart.

His eyes widened in shock, disbelief replacing the triumph that had been there moments before. This… isn’t… possible,” he gasped, blood bubbling from his lips.

“Die knowing you failed,” I whispered, twisting the blade deeper.

Even in death, the pure surprise on his face was satisfying. This would have been a win for him, but this changes everything.

Caleb’s body crumpled to the floor, the cursed blade protruding from his chest. Black blood–elder blood–pooled beneath him, spreading across the stone floor to mingle with my own. His eyes remained open, the shock of his defeat eternally preserved on his ancient features.

I fell to my knees, my strength abandoning me as the weapon’s poison spread through my system. The building around me continued to shake, more explosions sounding in the distance. Flames engulfed the doorway through which we’d entered, cutting off any possible retreat.

I wouldn’t make it out. There was no point in trying.

As the fire spread, consuming everything in its path, my thoughts turned to Elowen. I hated her. I hated her for everything she had done to me. Ophelia was dead, Frost, injured as he was he might not have made it out either, and still, there was this part of me that hoped… I hoped she had at least made it out.

I wondered if it was worth it to her–every betrayal, every lie–was this what she had wanted? If this was it, then it would be very sad. I hoped she had a reason; I wondered if there was some kind of recompense waiting for her after everything because if there wasn’t then it wouldn’t make any sense. No, not one bit.

The fire reached me, licking at my clothes, my skin, but I barely felt it. The cursed blade had done its work, draining the life from me more effectively than any flames. As darkness closed in, one final thought twisted through my fading consciousness: if she had truly loved me, at any point, none of this would have happened.

With that bitter reflection, I surrendered to the darkness.

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