Don't Poke the Luna (Xena and Ryder)

Chapter 251

Chapter 252

Ryder's POV

XENA! I roared at the retreating vehicles, my voice tearing from my throat like shards of glass. It took me two agonizing minutes to break free from the ropes that bound me, my wrists burning as I struggled against the restraints.

The moment I was free, I stumbled toward where my mother lay crumpled on the ground. The sight of her broken body sent a wave of nausea through me, but I forced myself to keep moving.

"Ryder..." Her voice was barely a whisper, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

I dropped to my knees beside her, carefully lifting her head into my lap. "Mom, don't talk. Save your strength." My hands shook as I tried to apply pressure to the wound in her abdomen, but blood continued to seep between my fingers.

"Listen to me," she gasped, her fingers clutching weakly at my shirt. "Your father... after you and Xena left the pack... he took some warriors to search for clues... he wanted to protect you both..."

Tears blurred my vision as I leaned closer to catch her fading words.

"Promise me..." Her grip tightened with what little strength she had left. "Find him... protect Xena... protect the pack... I believe in you..."

WILL, Mom! I WILL!" My voice cracked with grief and determination. "I'll find Dad, I'll protect

looked like the woman who used to sing me lullabies when I couldn't sleep. Then her hand went limp,

desperately, but she was gone. The woman who had bandaged my scraped knees, who

slip away like sand through my fingers. The world around me seemed to tilt, reality becoming a nightmare

was being ripped in half.

Dad's wolf was gone.

into fists, nails digging crescents into my palms until they bled. He was dead too. That bastard Wiley had killed both my parents, torn away the two people who meant

explosion of raw emotion that threatened to consume me entirely. I gently laid my mother's body on the

"AHHHHHHHHH!”

beyond measure, of a

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Chapter 252

His name became curse on my lips, a promise of vengeance that echoed

them suffer! You will know parents'

carrying the weight of my loss and the fire of my

molten metal. This should have been a moment of triumph, the culmination of years of training and preparation. Instead, it

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