Page 34 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)
CHAPTER THIRTY
JULIAN
C lara and Noen return to lead us toward the others, but not before I steal a few more kisses from Sloane. Her taste lingers on my lips, sweet, intoxicating, and addicting. Kissing her feels like reclaiming something I never thought I’d get back: my life, my future, my sanity.
Her touch is full of warmth, her skin as soft as I imagine the clouds to be. Everything about Sloane makes my years of torture seem like a distant memory when I have her in my arms. But the time to truly appreciate all of her isn’t yet. Not in this underground hideaway.
Or sanctuary as Clara calls it while she leads us further beneath the mountain.
Apparently, not everyone believed Aeson when he declared me dead. Some wolves, led by instinct and quiet resistance, never stopped questioning what truly happened back then.
That alone is more than I ever expected.
I thought they would’ve forgotten me. Or worse, remembered only the lies .
Yet this place, this hidden world carved into the mountain’s bones, tells a different story. One of faith. One of survival.
The tunnels are lined with flickering lanterns, their soft glow bouncing across uneven stone walls.
Fresh water glides along carved channels in the rock, humming a steady rhythm beneath our feet.
Shelves and crates packed with dried food and roots line the walkways, and herbs hang in bunches from ceiling hooks, their earthy scent blending with wolf musk.
Sleeping quarters are tucked into nooks, filled with hay and folded wool blankets. There are signs of children here too. Small drawings etched into the stone and a pair of carved wooden toys tucked beside a sleeping pallet.
This isn’t just a refuge.
It’s a haven. A hidden heartbeat pulsing beneath the broken kingdom.
Still, my own pulse thrums unevenly in my throat.
They’ll recognize me. They’ll remember the stories, which include so many lies.
Sloane brushes her hand against mine, a quiet reassurance that keeps my heart from spiraling. One gentle touch, and I remember who I am. Who I’ve become.
A voice, deep and familiar, breaks the stillness. “Alpha King.”
The title strikes like lightning.
I turn, breath stalling.
From the shadows steps a wolf I never thought I’d see again. Silver-haired and standing tall despite the weight of his years, he is still as sharp as a blade’s edge.
“Garron,” I whisper. The name stirs something within me. He was always more than just a soldier. He was a mentor and a keeper of history and honor. A wolf who fought beside my father, who taught me how to listen before I spoke, how to lead with more than just force.
He’s dressed in black now, a blade strapped across each hip, posture straight and ready. Not the keeper of lore any longer. A warrior once more.
“I knew it,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. His pale blue eyes shine with something I don’t quite understand—relief, maybe, or even hope. “I knew the truth would find its way back.”
I steel myself, unsure what he means. Unsure how much he really knows.
Garron steps closer, gaze flicking over the rest of our group—Sloane, Isla, Asher, Estee, Theo, Clara, and Noen—before returning to me.
“My wolf knew,” he says again. “The day you disappeared, the air turned rancid. It was wrong in so many ways. Aeson claimed it was your darkness, your betrayal, but my instincts said otherwise. I couldn’t prove it.
But I never forgot. The young prince I knew wouldn’t fall to corruption. Not without a fight.”
He gestures to the sanctuary around us.
“So I began preparing. Quietly. Carefully. Waiting for the day you might return. I didn’t know if I’d live to see it, but I built this place anyway. For you. For all of us.”
Emotion lodges in my throat. Not grief, not fear, but gratitude.
“Thank you,” I manage. My voice is lower than I intend, but Garron hears it. “For remembering me when it would’ve been easier to forget.”
He nods once then his expression sobers. “You came back at the right time. Things have grown worse, Prince Julian. Much worse.”
Without another word, Garron turns and motions for us to follow.
We trail behind him through another branching tunnel until it opens into a broader chamber.
Several wolves look up from the low-burning fires scattered throughout the space, their conversations dying instantly.
Suspicion, curiosity, and cautious hope flicker in their eyes.
Garron glances back, catching me observing the other pack members. “They should know the truth. Your truth. Some won’t need it, but others will. Especially after what happened when you all vanished three days ago.”
“When the runes were destroyed?” Isla asks softly as we pause.
Garron nods solemnly. “The energy across Venaris shifted. Barely noticeable to most, but those of us who pay attention to our instincts, we felt it. Something otherworldly stirred. According to my contacts still inside the castle, Aeson felt it too. He panicked. Believed it was an omen. He called his inner circle, ordered them to prepare for war. But when he couldn’t find Sloane… that’s when he lost control.”
Sloane’s jaw tightens, and I reach for her hand, hoping she isn’t taking on any guilt. We had no choice in leaving when we did. This isn’t her fault.
Garron’s lips flatten briefly as if reliving that morning. He turns away to continue walking down the dirt corridor but keeps speaking as we move together. “Aeson demanded the pack to bow before him. He didn’t offer an alternative, which we all knew what that meant.”
“Obey or die,” Sloane mutters and then looks up at me. “My instincts told me he was evil. I felt it in my core, but besides his treatment toward me, I had no proof. It doesn’t feel good being right about this.”
I hold her tighter, whispering as we walk. “And that’s why you’re an incredible queen.”
Garron continues, “I sent those I trusted most to rescue as many as we could, but it wasn’t easy.
Aeson raved about betrayals. Said Sloane was conspiring with the other alphas to destroy Venaris from within.
That the unity of kingdoms was a ruse. Most didn’t believe it, but fear doesn’t require logic.
It requires control. So they followed him.
Not out of loyalty, but to protect their families. ”
“How many?” Sloane demands, her grip on my hand nearly enough to crack bones. “How many did you get out before they were given no other options and what’s happening to them now?”
“Just over three hundred,” he replies stiffly. “But almost two hundred of the pack remain inside the castle grounds. A mix of both packs. Not all of them are trapped there, though most of them are confused. Some believe Aeson. Some think they were abandoned. All of them are divided.”
Garron pauses and lowers his voice. “Those not willing to fight now that they’re seeing this version of their Alpha King are being restrained, but most of them have agreed to stand by Aeson’s side, preparing for a battle.”
I grit my teeth, heart pounding. “I need to see the pack.”
He lifts a brow as he glances back at me.
“I want to speak to them,” I clarify. “The ones who are here. Let them see me. Hear the truth from my own mouth.”
Sloane’s shoulder rubs against mine as she counters me. “We need to plan first. If Aeson knows we’re back, we need to be smart, and the pack needs to feel confident in our next moves. The only way to make sure of that is to have answers for them about what comes next.”
Clara speaks up from just behind Sloane. “I’ve eased the worries of our pack members, and their belief in you is helping to keep the peace for now. Having some sort of hope to give them when you address everyone is good, though. They haven’t had much of it in the last three days. ”
“Let’s pause for a moment.” Garron turns away from us, guiding the way down the dirt corridor.
This tunnel is darker, tighter. There are no lanterns here, only the distant flicker of firelight at the far end.
My wolf doesn’t hesitate, his enhanced senses coming to the surface as my eyes adjust quickly.
The walls scrape against my arms, the passage narrowing enough that we’re forced to turn sideways to continue.
Then the corridor opens into a private room.
It’s small but warm. A shallow fire pit crackles at the center, surrounded by four worn chairs. A table rests against one wall, a modest bed tucked into the far corner. Small, hand-painted images line the stone walls. Drawings of moons and wolves, even one with a crown etched in shaky brushstrokes.
Garron has lived here. Not just prepared this space but lived and hoped in it.
Everyone finds a place. Some choose to stand, while the rest settle onto seats. Sloane and I remain together, standing directly across from Garron.
He studies me, the evidence of age and wisdom deep in the creases around his eyes. “You’re no longer part of the pack. This could pose a problem. With neither you nor Sloane technically ruling over Venaris, the wolves won’t have a connection to you.”
“But you’re still part of the pack,” Asher says from the other side of the fire. “You’ve earned their respect. Wouldn’t they follow your lead?”
Garron tilts his head. “Respect, yes. Loyalty in the face of fear? I can’t be certain. Aeson still holds the crown. That alone demands obedience from some.”
Sloane’s eyes flash with unwavering purpose. “Then we do what we must. I’m still linked to Alcaris, and I’ll lead those who will have me. If we do this right, we can reclaim what’s been stolen with the least amount of bloodshed.”
Their attention shifts to me. All of them waiting for answers I’m not sure I have. I’ve only just returned. For years, I didn’t think I’d survive, let alone lead. I’m not sure what they want from me.
“I’m not your Alpha King,” I start, voice rough. “I don’t have that power anymore. But I can stand beside Sloane.”