Chapter 715:

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I slipped out of the inner sanctuary, leaving Dallas to the heavy, silver-toxin-induced sleep he desperately needed. The concrete corridor of the transit hub was freezing, the air thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic as I pushed open the door to the makeshift medical and supply room.

The harsh fluorescent lights blinded me for a second. When my vision cleared, I froze.

Alistair stood before a stainless-steel mirror. He was mid-motion, peeling away the flawless synthetic skin of his face. Beneath it lay a nightmare of melted muscle, twisted tissue, and deep, jagged silver burns. It was the horrific aftermath of the industrial acid he had used to erase his identity.

Hearing my footsteps, Alistair went rigid. His traumatized Inner Wolf violently spiked with pure, cornered panic. He spun around, a surgical scalpel flashing in his hand. In a fraction of a second, the blade was inches from my throat.

𝘔𝗈r𝗲 𝗇𝗈𝘃𝘦𝗹s 𝘰n 𝗀𝘢l𝗇𝘰𝘷𝖾ls.со𝗆

“Get out, Luna,” Alistair snarled, his eyes wild like a trapped beast. “Do not look at my hell. Get out!”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t scream. I stared directly into his ruined face, ignoring the razor-sharp steel near my pulse.

“Put the knife down, Alistair,” I said, my voice dead calm.

“You don’t understand,” he gritted out, his hand trembling. “You’re a civilian. You’ve been protected in a glass castle—”

“Protected?” I cut him off, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping my lips. “After my parents were murdered, Braydon Hyde locked me in a mental cage for three years. He stripped away my dignity, treating me like a pathetic pet and a wolfless breeding mare. He crushed my spirit every single day under the guise of ‘protection’.”

Alistair’s breath hitched. The wild panic in his eyes faltered.

“Your scars are on your face, Alistair,” I whispered fiercely, stepping closer until the scalpel practically grazed my skin. “Mine are on my soul. We both crawled out of hell for our freedom. Do not treat me like I don’t know what it takes to survive.”

His Inner Wolf, sensing the raw, unyielding truth of my trauma, instantly submitted. The hostility evaporated. Alistair slowly lowered the scalpel, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

I didn’t waste the opening. I pulled my tablet from my shawl and projected a hologram onto the metal counter. It displayed the cold, aristocratic face of Professor Beatrice Vance, a corrupt High Council official who held top-tier clearance.

“Healer Henri Laurent and Azalea are safe for now,” I stated, shifting into absolute Luna mode. “But without the specialized Lycan neural equipment inside the Geneva Syndicate black-site, Dallas will die. I need you to make me look exactly like her.”

Alistair stared at the hologram, shaking his head violently. “No. If the Alpha King wakes up and finds out I helped you walk into a Syndicate black-site, he will burn me to ash.”

“And if you do nothing, you will watch the Alpha who saved your life die of nerve failure!” I fired back, striking his deepest loyalty. “If Dallas dies, Alistair, what was the point of our escape? What is the point of your loyalty?”

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