Reclaiming My Broken Luna by Selene Souchon

Chapter 321: Victory or Defeat Astrid's POV

As we neared the dungeon, the cold air wrapped around me like a warning, and my steps faltered.

The weight of what I was about to do settled heavily in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I was nervous - no, I was scared. Giselle was down there, the woman who had torn our lives apart, and I had to face her alone.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt warm air fanning the side of my face. I blinked and turned, only to find Killian standing so close, his face inches from mine.

His breath was warm on my skin, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of us.

My heart skipped a beat. The closeness, the way he was looking at me—it made me forget, just for a second, about the darkness waiting ahead.

"Astrid," he whispered, his voice soft and full of concern. "Are you sure about this?"

His eyes searched mine, his brow furrowed with worry, and for a brief moment, I wanted to say no.

I wanted to lean into him, let him shield me from everything. He always had a way of making me feel safe.

"I can come with you," he added gently, his fingers brushing against mine, sending a spark of warmth through me.

For a moment, I hesitated. His presence was comforting, but I knew I needed to do this alone.

I needed to face Giselle on my own terms, even if part of me was terrified of what I might find.

I shook my head, offering a small smile. "No," I said softly, trying to steady my voice. "I need to do this by myself."

held my gaze, his eyes lingering on mine, as

briefly around mine, a promise in his touch. "I'll be right here," he murmured, his voice

words were all I needed to find the courage. With one last

I could still feel the warmth of him, the

as I

the last time I saw Giselle, the last time her poison would taint my

guard unlocked the heavy iron door,

fell on Giselle, and I froze. The

once immaculate and graceful figure who had always held her head high now sat slumped against the stone wall, her appearance disheveled,

smatted, her dress torn

Her hair was

dirt. She looked like someone who had been

stripped

the person

even in her diminished state, a twisted smirk played on her lips, as if she hadn't yet

if she still believed she

the bars, her eyes gleaming with a sick

filled with mockery. "Look who's come to visit. Did

you could

you

away with it? I told you before, you won't. You never

dungeon. She had screamed threats at me then, words I had dismissed as the ravings of a bitter, defeated woman. I had thought they were empty, but now I knew better. She had always had something hidden, something dark and cruel waiting to

and for a moment, I felt the anger surge in my veins, the reminder of how close she had come

smirk widened, mistaking my silence for anguish, for pain. "Ryker is dead, isn't he?"

why you're here. You've come to beg, to cry at my feet, but it's