The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 371

**TITLE: The Perfect 371**

“N-No, of course not!” Gabriel stammered, his voice quaking like a fragile leaf caught in a relentless storm. The sight of him in such a state was almost heart-wrenching; it was a stark contrast to the confident Beta I once knew. “I-I only wanted to get her to the scene of the crime. I thought that maybe if she saw the fire, she would panic and turn herself in!”

“But she went into premature labor,” I retorted, my tone unwavering yet tinged with disbelief that simmered just beneath the surface. “And the only person who was there was Sophia, the very person you sent. She told me you instructed her to be there at that time. Is that true?”

“Yes,” he confessed, his eyes dropping to the ground as if the enormity of his actions was too heavy to bear. “I had been working with Sophia for some time by that point. I told her to wait there, hoping that she would run into Ella and persuade her to turn herself in. But I never anticipated everything else that transpired…”

“Is that so?” I leaned in closer, scrutinizing him with an intensity that made the air between us crackle. The once-proud, defiant Beta now appeared so small and vulnerable, like a rat ensnared in a trap, stripped of all bravado. “And who were you working for at that time? Sophia mentioned that you started going rogue, that you might have been taking orders from someone else.”

I had anticipated that Gabriel would unravel before me, spilling secrets he had guarded so closely, just as he had done in the past. Despite the chaos that surrounded us, he was no fool; he understood the precariousness of his situation, the undeniable truth that honesty was his only sanctuary now.

But I was mistaken.

Gabriel remained silent.

“Gabriel?” I stepped closer, my heart pounding violently against my ribcage, and raised my fist, hoping to intimidate him into revealing the truth. “Who. Were. You. Working. For?”

“I can’t tell you,” he murmured, his voice barely rising above a whisper, a tremor of fear threading through his words.

“Why not?” I seized a fistful of his shirt, my patience fraying, ready to unleash my frustration if it meant prying the truth from him.

He shook his head, his expression a tumult of regret and fear. “I just… can’t.”

That was it. I had reached my limit. Curling my lip back in a sneer, I pulled my arm back and delivered a sharp punch to the side of his head. This time, with a firm grip on his shirt, he didn’t fall. His head snapped back momentarily before slumping forward, utterly defeated.

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