My Alpha Wants Two Lunas I'm Done novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48 My Father

Third-person POV:

Nita bounced excitedly in the mind link.

Laila was stunned as well.

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She could hardly connect the man before her with the commander who had once rolled in blood and mud.

The only thing that confirmed his identity was those smoke-gray eyes that were still like quenched steel blades.

So it turned out that the thick beard had unintentionally protected his skin, sparing this face -praised as “Rydar’s Moonlight”-from being fully carved by wind and frost.

No wonder…

She thought silently, people all said Samuel was the most handsome man in Rydar.

And he was actually the second fated mate bestowed by the Moon Goddess?

Was it really true?

Even though Laila had already given up on love, when she heard Nita’s shrill scream and suddenly met his gaze, her heart still clenched hard, like it had been snapped shut by a steel

trap.

“What? Don’t recognize this face anymore?” Samuel curled his lips and asked teasingly.

Laila’s face flushed red, and she quickly snapped into a military salute. “Marshal.”

Samuel gave a slight nod, then turned around.

“Follow me.”

He didn’t shift into wolf form; instead, he walked slowly.

Laila did the same, following behind him at an unhurried pace.

The soles of their boots crushed fresh snow, making faint crunching sounds.

The surroundings were eerily quiet. Even the cold crows had fallen silent. This land, soaked through with blood, appeared strangely peaceful beneath the curtain of snow as if the war had never happened, as if the wolves might still chase elk here, rather than each other’s

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Chapter 48 My Father

throats.

If there had been no war…

Perhaps cubs would still be laughing and playing in this snowfield.

Laila pressed her lips together, suddenly thinking of what had just happened.

“Nita, is Samuel really our fated mate? Why does something feel off?”

She asked within the mind link.

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Nita flicked her tail and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. “Of course, he is our fated

mate!”

“Really?”

“Of course! Why would I lie to you?”

Is that so?

Laila frowned. Why couldn’t she feel the natural pull that was supposed to exist between

mates:

At last, Samuel stopped before a small hill.

The leaves had long fallen, and there was little vegetation left. At a glance, narrow paths branched in all directions, leading toward higher ground.

The wind howled fiercely, sounding like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts.

Samuel stood atop the hill, hands behind his back, gazing toward the small path on the left. Beside that path stood a stone stele without words carved upon it.

“That unmarked stele was raised by the people of Irilla for your father. He held that vital choke point alone and was struck by seventeen poison-tipped arrows, yet he never fell. The people said that even after death, his claws were still driven deep into the earth.”

Laila’s vision blurred instantly.

Even though she had long been prepared, when the scene of her father’s and brothers sacrifice was laid out so vividly before her, the pain still tore through her chest like a wolf’s claw.

“At the time, he had just cut off Ovila’s supply line to Irilla. One more battle could have decided everything. But three consecutive sieges had already drained the pack of its last strength.

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Chapter 48 My Father

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“The king had only recently ascended the throne and had yet to fully control the Royal Court, so reinforcements were delayed again and again. He held out for seven full days and nights until his howls were hoarse and his claws were worn down to bare bone.

“Some of Irilla’s citizens witnessed it. Deeply moved, they secretly raised this unmarked stele here, so Ovila wouldn’t discover it and destroy it

He took out a flask of liquor and handed it to Laila. “Go. Offer your father a drink. Tell him his daughter has become an outstanding warrior”

Laila wiped away her tears and took the flask.

She recognized the scent immediately. It was Golden Ear Mead, brewed from golden barley widely grown in the southern lands of the kingdom and large amounts of honey.

Her father had once said the taste was like “a dusk without signal fires,” warm enough to let even the most exhausted werewolf warrior dream of home.

Step by step, she walked to the unmarked stele.

She poured the liquor onto the ground. Before she could speak, tears fell first.

She could imagine it clearly. Only those who had been to the battlefield knew how hard it was to hold on like that.

Every breath burned the lungs. Every swing of the claws drained the marrow. Hope faded inch by inch, like a waning moon on a winter night.

Death was never the most terrifying thing.

The most terrifying thing was knowing death was certain, yet still tightening every muscle to fight for one more heartbeat of breath for comrades whose names you might never even

know.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out

Only tears kept falling.

Father, your daughter has come to take you home.

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