Chapter 1360
Chapter 1360:
Jett’s soldiers lifted their spears in quiet unison. Across the garden, Colt’s men responded with the steely hiss of drawn blades.
Bryan shifted back into human form, his hair tousled in the night air. Blood streaked his mouth, but he wiped it away with a grin and threw me a pointed look.
“Took your sweet time.”
I shot him a glare. This was hardly the moment.
And then—Colt laughed. A sharp, deranged sound that screeched in my ears.
“Perfect,” he said. “Everyone’s here.”
He snapped his fingers.
“Archers!”
In an instant, shadows moved above us. Dozens of archers emerged on the surrounding rooftops, their bows already drawn, arrows gleaming.
The air froze. Even the roses in the garden seemed to halt mid-bloom, as if the night itself were holding its breath.
Every soul in the garden tensed—waiting for that single spark to ignite the slaughter.
“By order of His Majesty!”
Lucian’s voice rang out, slicing clean through the space.
He strode forward, holding a golden token high for all to see.
At once, the soldiers parted to allow him through. Above, the archers faltered, bows slowly lowering.
“Both sides will stand down immediately,” Lucian declared, his gaze sweeping across the garden before settling on Colt. “Your Highness—this is His Majesty’s decree.”
Colt’s face darkened, thunder gathering behind his eyes.
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“Lucian, are you blind? Jett is in league with werewolves!”
“I will report the truth to His Majesty myself,” Lucian replied evenly, unshaken.
Then his gaze moved to Makenna, still unconscious in Clayton’s arms.
“By His Majesty’s command, she is to be taken to the palace.”
“No way in hell!” The shout burst from all three of us in perfect unison—Bryan, Clayton, and me.
I stepped forward, placing myself squarely between Lucian and Clayton. The pressure of my aura pulsed so fiercely that the nearest soldiers stumbled backward in alarm.
Jett stepped in without warning, one firm hand landing on my shoulder.
“Leave this to me,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I swear on my life—the king won’t lay a finger on Makenna. Let Lucian take her. Just for now.”
By then, Lucian had already reached Clayton, arms outstretched, ready to carry her. But Clayton’s grip only tightened, his entire body stiff with resistance.
“Clayton,” Bryan murmured, stepping closer, “trust Jett. Just this once.”
I held my breath as I watched Clayton freeze in the dilemma. His shoulders quaked under the weight of letting go. Then, slowly—painfully—his fingers uncurled, trembling as they released her. Lucian gathered Makenna into his arms with quiet reverence and vanished into the night without a backward glance.
I didn’t look away until his silhouette was swallowed by the dark.
.
.
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