Luna Abigail's Second Chance Chapter 384 This Is What You Get

Ezra POV

Abigail steps into view at the edge of the clearing, posture calm in that terrifying way she has, magic coiled tight around her like a restraint she’s chosen rather than a power she can’t control, and beside her I catch movent, warriors sliding into position, pack mbers forming a line that says this is no longer a scattered scramble. This is a response.

Ruby holds her ground near the fallen witch, tails lifted, eyes bright, and for a heartbeat I want to go to her, to put my body between her and the witches and anything else that thinks it has a right to reach her.

Then sothing large moves into my path.

Father.

His wolf is bigger than mine, heavier through the shoulders, old power packed into muscle that has been fed by entitlent for years, and his scent hits like a wall, familiar and wrong all at once, a pack signature twisted by obsession.

He snarls at , lips curling back, eyes burning with the kind of fury that doesn’t look like leadership, it looks like possession. Damon rises, steady now, fury sharpening into focus.

’Mine,’ he growls, and it isn’t about Allison as an object, it’s about the bond, the pack and the line father has crossed so many tis that the map of right and wrong has been forced to redraw itself around him.

Father’s wolf stalks closer, head low, gaze locked on as if he thinks he can still dominate this space by sheer force.

’You should have listened,’ Jack says, voice thick and guttural in the family link we didn’t sever, words distorted but understandable enough, and his tone isn’t sorrowful, it’s triumphant, as if he’s been waiting for a mont where he can hurt one of us without witnesses stopping him.

I bare my teeth and step forward, eting him head-on, paws digging into the dirt.

’You should have led,’ I answer, the words coming out rough but clear, and even through the link, ’and instead you chose fear.’ Father lunges and I et him.

The impact is brutal, bodies slamming together hard enough that my shoulder jolts, claws tearing grooves through the ground as we shove and twist, and the fight becos a deadly dance imdiately, fur and blood and snapping jaws, weight shifting, hips turning, every movent a decision.

Father is strong, I won’t pretend otherwise. He’s stronger than most, heavier, older, and he fights like soone who expects the world to move out of his way, driving forward with raw force, trying to crush under sheer mass.

But Damon doesn’t yield.

We slip sideways, forcing an angle, claws raking along his flank, tearing through fur into skin, and father snarls loud enough that the sound shakes in my chest, then he whips around and slams into again, teeth snapping close enough to catch fur along my neck.

It’s a near miss, a warning and a promise.

We duck and twist, jaws finding his shoulder, biting down hard, feeling blood flood our mouth as Damon tears and releases, then move again before he can clamp onto us. The taste is hot and tallic, and it should make recoil, but Damon only growls deeper, because this is not play and it’s not training.

Father swipes with a forepaw and catches Damon across the ribs, claws carving lines that burn imdiately, and Damon snarls, pivoting, trying to keep his body from lining up with ours again, because if he pins us, he will finish it.

Around us the clearing is still chaos, spells flaring, warriors shouting, Ruby moving like lightning among threats, but for this mont my world is only father’s wolf and the deadly space between us.

He fakes left and Damon bites the air. His weight slams into our side, and we roll, dirt and needles spraying, Damon’s back hitting the ground hard enough to knock breath from our lungs in a sharp grunt.

Jack’s jaws close around my shoulder. Pain explodes, not superficial.

Deep.

He shakes once, viciously, and sothing tears inside us, muscle ripping, warmth spilling fast, and Damon howls in rage and pain both, claws scrabbling for leverage as we shove at father’s chest.

Damon gets one hind paw under his ribs and kicks hard, forcing space, but he doesn’t fully release, instead he repositions, teeth sliding, searching for the throat.

The kill bite. Our vision narrows and I can sll our own blood, thick and heavy, and it makes the world tilt.

’Hold,’ Damon snarls at , voice fierce even as my limbs start to feel strange, sluggish. ’Hold, Ezra, hold.’

I hear Ethan and Elijah sowhere, their roars cutting through the noise as they realize what’s happening, and I feel them moving toward , but father is between us, intent on ending this before they can reach.

He surges forward again, jaws opening wide.

Damon snaps at his muzzle, catching flesh, tearing, buying half a second, and we push up on trembling legs, trying to regain footing but father slams into us once more.

His claws rake along our side, deeper than before, and the pain is imdiate and overwhelming, Damon’s legs folding under us as blood loss steals strength faster than will can replace.

Damon hits the ground hard, dirt fills our mouth and the night blurs.

I see flashes, Ruby’s dark blue form darting, Abigail’s magic flaring, adow’s panther shape cutting through bodies, but my focus keeps slipping because our body is failing and Damon is fighting to keep us conscious.

Father stands over , breathing hard, eyes bright with triumph and sothing uglier beneath it.

’This is what you get,’ he snarls, lowering his head, jaws parting.

We can’t get up fast enough, we try but our limbs don’t answer the way they should.

I hear my brothers again, closer now, frantic, and I want to tell them to hurry, to stop him, to protect Allison, to do anything except watch die here, but my throat won’t form words in ti.

Father’s wolf moves for the final strike.

The last thing I see, through blurred vision and a haze of blood-scent and shadow, is his jaws opening wide, aid cleanly at my throat, and the world narrows to that single mont of intent.

Then everything goes dark as Damon slips under, taking with him.