Chapter 48 – The Heart He Denies.
By late afternoon, life inside Luna Café had settled back into its familiar rhythm. The staff moved with practiced precision, wiping tables, rearranging chairs, and setting counters with a quiet urgency that spoke of both pride and routine. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon bread and the earthy scent of cocoa, filling the café with warmth that seemed to push away the chill lingering from the morning.
At exactly five in the evening, the doors opened, and a gentle bell chimed. Luna Café was no ordinary shop. To the casual passerby, it was a simple café, a small corner of comfort. But once night fell, it became something far greater—a secret gathering place, a sanctuary where Luna and her circle held sway, and where the future of territories and their delicate balance were quietly debated.
Every full moon, female Lunas from different regions brought their children here. The Moon Hall upstairs, hidden behind heavy curtains and silver-carved doors, became a council chamber where decisions were made, alliances forged, and whispers of leadership weighed with the gravitas only a Luna could command. The male Alphas, though strong and feared, often lingered outside in smaller groups, drinking, laughing, or exchanging quiet glances, leaving the women to steer the course of their world.
And tonight, the moon would rise full and bright.
The café hummed with energy as preparations continued. Candles flickered, silver trays were polished to a shine, and the upstairs Moon Hall was readied for the council. The Young wolves —Margaux, Jonas, Leo, Elmer, Jessie, Cherry, and Jester—played quietly in the corners, their laughter soft but lively, weaving a thread of innocence through the serious undertones of the evening.
No one noticed the shadow that lingered beyond the fading light, silent and still. Ashrav.
He watched from a distance, a silhouette among the trees, his dark coat blending seamlessly with the shadows. His eyes followed every movement inside the café—the way Amber's hands moved as she instructed her staff, the subtle lift of her brow when she smiled, the careful way she guided the children.
He spoke softly to the men crouched behind him, their eyes fixed on the building. "Tonight. When the full moon rises, we strike."
His voice was sharp, precise, carrying the weight of command. Yet his gaze returned to Amber more than once, betraying an emotion that had no place in the heart of a Shadowblade. A quiet admiration, almost reverent, lingered in his eyes.
The storm was coming, and they did not yet know.
⸻
From the shadows of the hall, Ashrav's eyes followed her again. Amber moved with effortless grace, her laughter soft, her gestures light, as though she carried the warmth of sunlight within her. She wasn't seeking attention—she never did—but to him, she was a flame piercing the endless dark.
His jaw clenched, body taut, every nerve screaming for him to look away. Yet he could not. His gaze followed every step, every tilt of her head, every curve of her lips when she spoke to Zach or interacted with the children. There was something in her, something unnamed, that chipped away at the cold armor he had worn all his life.
What is this feeling? The thought came sharp, dangerous. This cannot be...
It was more than curiosity. More than admiration. It was as if a spell had wound itself around his chest, squeezing tight with every heartbeat. Every glance at her eyes, every soft note of her voice, washed a calm through him that he had never known—not even in the rarest moments of silence between missions.
He was a Shadowblade, bred to kill, honed to strike in shadows. Mercy had been beaten out of him. Tenderness was weakness. Love... love was death.
And yet, as Amber tilted her head, letting the light catch the curve of her face, he felt his carefully constructed façade begin to crack. He brought a hand unconsciously to his chest, clutching the fabric there as though he could steady the furious beating beneath. It was not fear—no, fear was familiar. This was something else entirely: longing, deep and unrelenting, tugging at him in ways he had never experienced.
"No," he whispered, voice low, sharp. "This is not possible. It cannot be."
Even as he said it, the words rang hollow. Amber was his mission—nothing more. She was the target, the tether to his oath, the shadow that defined him. He had sworn his life to the creed of the Shadowblades. She was supposed to be a name etched into his orders, nothing else.
So why did her smile make his chest ache? Why did her voice sound like a memory he had been searching for, a warmth he had been denied all his life?
He pressed his back against the wall of the building, breath ragged, trying to banish the chaos clawing at him. Instinct screamed for control, for distance—but the heart, traitorous as it was, betrayed him with every beat.
Amber glanced in his direction for a fleeting moment, and his world stilled. The air seemed to tighten around him, silent and charged, as if the universe itself dared him to acknowledge the truth.
He tore his gaze away, fists clenching at his sides. "No... Amber is my mission. Nothing more."
Even as he spoke the words, the lie burned on his tongue. Every fiber of his being whispered what he refused to hear. She is more. She is everything I cannot have.
Ashrav's thoughts spun faster, dangerously close to unravelling. How can I even look at her this way? he thought, anger and longing tangling in a suffocating knot. I am not meant for warmth, for softness. I am the shadow that ends lives. And yet... I cannot look away.
He shifted slightly, hiding in the darkened corner, heart hammering. His men waited silently, eyes on the café, unaware of the storm that raged within their leader. And all the while, Amber moved inside, her laugh light, commanding yet gentle, unknowingly unraveling the unbreakable.
Tonight, the full moon would rise. And with it, a storm that would test every bond, every strength—and perhaps, every heart.