Chapter 89: Chapter 89
Sophie’s POV
"Okay," I panted from beneath him. "Point made. I suck at this."
"You have good instincts." He helped me up. "But instincts without training will get you killed."
The blunt honesty should have scared me. Instead, it focused me.
"Then teach me."
His eyes gleamed with approval. "That’s my Luna."
The next three hours were brutal.
Christian taught me defensive stances. Blocking techniques. How to use an opponent’s momentum against them. How to fight someone bigger and stronger.
I took hits. Multiple hits. My ribs will be bruised tomorrow.
But I also landed hits. And every time I did, Christian’s proud smile made the pain worth it.
"You’re faster than you should be," he observed after I managed to sweep his legs. "Luna abilities, maybe."
"Luna abilities?" I helped him up. "You mean besides the prophetic nightmares?"
"Diana!" Christian called toward the entrance.
I turned to see Diana approaching, carrying what looked like ancient books.
"I’ve been researching," she said, setting the books down. "Luna abilities are documented throughout pack history. Prophetic visions are common. But there are others."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Healing through touch. Sensing pack member locations. Channeling pack energy during battle." Diana flipped through one of the books. "Lunas are more powerful than most packs remember."
Christian looked at me with new intensity. "Can you heal?"
"I have no idea."
"Try." He held out his arm, showing a nasty bruise from our sparring.
I placed my hand over the bruise, feeling stupid. Nothing happened for a moment. Then—
Warmth flowed from my palm into his skin. The bruise faded, disappearing like it had never existed.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
Christian stared at his arm. "Do that again."
"I don’t know how I did it the first time!"
But over the next hour, with Diana’s guidance, I figured it out. Some kind of energy that lived in my chest, accessible when I concentrated. Luna power, apparently.
By the time we finished, I could heal minor injuries and sense every pack member’s location like points of light in my mind.
"This changes things," Christian said. "You’re not just my mate. You’re a weapon."
"I’m also exhausted." I collapsed onto the mat. "Can weapons take naps?"
He laughed and pulled me against his chest. "Rest. We’ll train more tomorrow."
But as I lay there, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek, the vision flashed through my mind again.
Christian falling. Blood spreading. His eyes went dark.
I held him tighter.
The next few days blurred together.
Training every morning with Christian. Watching the pack transform from soft civilians into something harder, sharper. Marcus doubled border patrols. Connor gathered intelligence from neighboring territories.
And every night, I fell into bed beside Christian, muscles aching, heart racing with anticipation of the coming storm.
"Talk to me," Christian said one night, pulling me close.
We were in his bed—*our* bed now, really. I’d moved most of my things into his room without discussing it.
"I’m scared," I admitted.
"Of the attack?"
"Of losing you." I traced patterns on his chest. "In my vision, you fell. Not me. You."
His arms tightened around me. "That’s not going to happen."
"You can’t promise that."
"Watch me." He tilted my face up. "I’m not leaving you, Sophie. Not for anything. Not even death."
"That’s not how death works—"
He kissed me, cutting off my protests. And then we weren’t talking anymore, just moving together with desperate intensity, like we could ward off fate through sheer force of connection.
Afterward, lying tangled together in the dark, Christian whispered, "Whatever comes, we face it together."
I wanted to believe him.
On the fifth day, Marcus burst into Christian’s office, where we were reviewing defensive positions.
"The rogues are moving," Marcus said grimly. "Directly outside our borders. They’re not even hiding anymore."
Christian’s expression went cold. "How many?"
"At least we can see hundreds. Probably more."
I felt ice slide down my spine. "It’s happening. The attack from my vision."
"When?" Christian demanded.
"Based on their movements?" Marcus checked his tablet. "Within twenty-four hours."
The office went silent.
Then Christian started giving orders rapid-fire. "Move all non-combatants to the safe house. Double the warriors on border patrol. Get Connor to finalize the legal documents. Diana, organize Sophie’s guard detail—"
"I don’t need—" I started.
"You’re getting a guard detail," Christian said firmly. "Non-negotiable."
I wanted to argue but saw the fear beneath his Alpha mask. Fear for me.
"Okay," I said quietly.
Marcus left to implement orders. Christian turned to me, cupping my face in his hands.
"Stay close to me," he said. "When this starts, don’t leave my side."
"I won’t."
"Promise me, Sophie."
"I promise."
But even as I said it, I knew promises meant nothing against what was coming.
