A Luna in Disguise

Chapter 15

Moonlight guided our steps as we crept down the narrow path toward Stonefall Ridge. Fatigue weighed on me, but my mind raced faster than my feet. The betrayal at the oak cabin still burned in my gut—how had the Council glimpsed our plans so quickly? Who among us had whispered our secrets?

The resistance group moved in hushed lines, shoulders tense, eyes alert. Children trembled behind older fighters. Each of us carried a torch, flickering in the night wind. My torchlight wavered with every heartbeat, but I kept it raised, a fragile shield against the dark.

Kael walked beside me, silent. His gaze swept the cliffs above, as if expecting wolves to leap from the stone. I risked a glance at him—his jaw clenched, blue eyes hard with determination. In that moment, I needed him to speak, to share his strength, but he said nothing. I squeezed his hand, grateful for the warmth.

Behind us, Riven carried the captured scout. The man’s wrists were bound, his head bowed. I caught the glint of his terrified eyes when he thought no one watched. Guilt stabbed me—I’d nearly killed him to protect us. But he’d betrayed Rhea’s trust, and that was unforgivable.

Rhea strode at the front, cloak swirling. She paused at a fork in the trail. “This way,” she said, pointing to a rocky slope. “We climb. The bunker entrance is at the east face.”

I held my breath as we scaled the stones, hands gripping rough granite, boots slipping on loose pebbles. The cliff face rose above us, jagged teeth against the sky. My muscles burned, but I refused to look down.

At the top, a flat ledge opened onto a small plateau. There, half-hidden by vines, was a steel-plated hatch set into the rock. Two resistance fighters worked the latch. It clicked open, revealing a dark shaft beyond.

“Inside,” Riven ordered softly. “Keep your torches low.”

We filed in. Cool, damp air greeted us. Wooden crates and barrels lined the walls, along with cots draped in blankets. A single lantern swung from a chain at the room’s center, casting dancing shadows.

I exhaled, muscles unclenching. We’d made it. For now.

Rhea slammed the hatch closed behind us. “Lock it,” she told two fighters. They slipped a heavy bar into place.

She turned to the scout. “You. Sit.” She pointed to a stool beneath the lantern. The man staggered forward, nearly fainting.

I took a step back, uneasy. This place—this bunker—should have felt safe. Instead, it pulsed with suspicion.

Rhea folded her arms. “You’ll see justice. If you speak truth, you live. If you lie…”

The scout’s eyes darted to Riven. “I tell the truth.”

“Start.” Rhea’s tone left no room for refusal.

He swallowed, voice trembling. “They promised me—money, freedom… if I got you.” He spat blood at the floor. “It wasn’t Riven. It was—”

His words died as Rhea’s fist cracked against the table. Lantern wobbled, shadows leapt.

“It was who?” Kael demanded, stepping forward.

The scout crumpled, tears spilling. “M… Milo.” He choked. “He took the sigil from Riven’s office—sold it. Said he’d free his family.”

My blood ran cold. Milo. The boy I’d trained with at the academy—the quiet Vaer cadet who warned me to be careful. He’d been struggling for his pack. I’d dismissed him. Now he’d condemned us.

Rhea’s face was a storm. “Milo,” she breathed, as if tasting betrayal on her tongue.

“You’ll take me to him,” she said to Riven.

He nodded. “Now.”

Kael sheathed his sword. “We should move once we settle this.”

I bit my lip, voice tight. “If he’s here, he knows the exits. We can’t risk letting him lead us.”

Riven paused. The lantern’s chain creaked. “He’ll have no choice. This bunker’s sealed. We flush him out.”

Rhea’s scarred hand glowed silver as she gripped her blade. “Find him.”

Two fighters grabbed the scout and dragged him into the tunnel, leaving shafts of light swinging over empty floorboards.

Silence fell. Every face was pale.

“Milo was one of us,” I whispered to Kael.

He shook his head. “Hunger drives good people to bad choices.”

Rhea set her blade tip on the floor. “Check the supplies. If he’s hidden anything—maps, keys—they’ll be there.”

We spread out. Wooden crates rattled as we opened them—flour, salted meat, blankets. Nothing. My heart sank.

I knelt at an overturned barrel. Something glinted beneath. I knelt lower, craning for light. A folded piece of parchment.

I pulled it free. A hastily sketched map of our escape route—with a second red line marking a hidden exit Rhea had never shown me.

My breath caught. Someone had stolen her plans.

I rose, hand trembling. “Rhea!” I called.

She strode over, eyes flicking to the map. “Where did you find that?”

“Under the barrel. Someone added a second exit. A trap.”

Rhea’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Council spies could bottle us in here.”

Kael’s fist clenched. “We need to secure every passage.”

Riven’s gaze locked on the map. “And find that mole.”

I swallowed. The bunker felt smaller, the walls closing in. Trust was dead here.

Rhea turned, voice steady. “We’ll seal off all but one exit. Then we flush them out. I want everyone who’s not scouting or guarding to rest. We leave at first light.”

The fighters slumped, exhaling in unison. They needed rest, but their eyes were haunted.

I tucked the map into my tunic. “I’m going to check the eastern tunnel.”

Kael caught my arm. “Let me come.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Stay close.”

We slipped into the tunnel, torch held high. The cold wind moved through the stones, carrying the echo of distant howls.

At the bottom, I crouched and touched the stone floor. Something was amiss. A thin wire—tripwire—crossed the path, nearly invisible in the gloom.

“Trapwire,” I breathed.

Kael knelt beside me, voice low. “Council new tech. Tranquilizer darts.”

I felt bile rise. They planned to knock us all out once we tried to leave.

We knelt together, hurriedly cutting the wire and snipping the darts from their mount. Each dart glowed with a pale toxin. I set them aside—our proof.

As we worked, a faint noise echoed ahead. Soft footsteps.

I froze. Kael’s breath hitched. We pressed backs together, listening.

A single figure emerged into the torchlight—Milo, eyes wide, face pale as ash. In his hand he held a Council insignia—proof he was their agent.

He stumbled forward. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want… this.”

Kael’s sword lifted slowly. Milo’s eyes flicked to it, panic blooming.

“I can help,” he said. “They blackmailed me—my family’s lives. I… I didn’t know what else.”

I swallowed. The betrayal stung, but I knew fear.

Rhea’s voice echoed from above. “Aria! Kael! Report here.”

We rose slowly. Milo’s shoulders sagged. He dropped the insignia at our feet.

Kael’s eyes met mine. “What do we do?”

I looked at Milo—his tears glimmering in the torchlight. “We give him a choice. Help us, or we leave him to face the Council.”

He nodded, voice trembling. “I’ll help.”

Relief and caution warred in my chest. I turned, voice firm. “Let’s go.”

We climbed back up, the lights of the bunker shimmering ahead. Behind us, the whisper of the Council’s echo—hungry, relentless, waiting.