The Rejected Luna's Secret Alpha

Chapter 20

The bells were still ringing when Xavier reached the northern wing.

Freya struggled to keep pace beside him, her boots slipping against the polished marble floor. Every toll vibrated through the mansion, deep and ancient, as though the sound came from somewhere beneath the earth rather than the sanctuary itself.

No one had explained what the bells meant.

Judging by the expressions of the guards rushing past them, no one wanted to.

“What happens when someone crosses the inner threshold?” Freya asked.

Xavier glanced at her. “According to the records, nothing should happen. The inner sanctuary has been sealed for generations.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It means I don’t know.”

The admission surprised her more than she wanted to show. Xavier Blackthorn was a man who spoke as if the world had already surrendered its secrets to him. Hearing uncertainty in his voice made the situation feel considerably more dangerous.

They reached the northern courtyard.

Beyond the iron gates, the road climbed into the mountains, disappearing beneath a veil of mist. Snow covered the surrounding pines, and the moon hung above the peaks like a pale, watchful eye.

Three royal guards waited beside a black SUV. Dr. Elias Mercer stood near the passenger door, carrying a leather medical case.

“You’re going up there?” Elias asked when he saw them.

Xavier opened the driver’s door. “Someone has entered the sanctuary.”

“Or something has made it appear that way.” Elias lowered his voice. “The old wards have been unstable since Freya awakened. We should wait until dawn and bring a full team.”

“The bells haven’t rung in a hundred years.”

“Which is precisely why we should be cautious.”

Xavier looked toward the mountains.

“Prepare the team. Keep them outside the inner chamber.”

Elias’s gaze shifted to Freya. “And she should remain here.”

“No,” Freya said.

Both men turned toward her.

She folded her arms, forcing herself to ignore the faint silver glow beneath her sleeve. “Whatever opened that door, it happened after I saw the sanctuary in my vision. The marks appeared on my skin for a reason. If I stay here while you walk into something connected to my bloodline, we may lose the only chance we have to understand it.”

“Your powers nearly brought this mansion to its knees yesterday,” Xavier replied.

“And keeping me ignorant has done wonders for everyone’s safety.”

One of the guards suddenly became very interested in the ground.

Xavier’s jaw tightened.

For a moment, Freya expected him to order her back inside. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping so only she could hear.

“If you come with me, you follow my instructions when danger appears.”

“And if your instructions put me in danger?”

“Then you use your judgment.”

She studied him, searching for the trap in his answer.

There wasn’t one. Not that she could see.

“Fine,” she said.

Xavier opened the passenger door.

“Stay close to me.”

Freya climbed inside. “Try not to make it sound like an order.”

“It was a suggestion.”

“You’re terrible at suggestions, Your Majesty.”

For the briefest moment, something almost resembling amusement crossed his face.

Then the bells rang again.

And the expression disappeared.

The journey took nearly forty minutes.

The road narrowed as they climbed, winding between cliffs and snow covered trees. Freya watched the darkness pass outside the window, her thoughts returning to the words she had heard in her vision.

The oath is a door. The king is its key.

She glanced at Xavier’s hand resting on the steering wheel. His golden mark remained hidden beneath his black glove, but she could sense something restless beneath it.

“Does your mark hurt?” she asked.

His eyes stayed on the road. “Why?”

“Because mine does.”

She pushed back her sleeve.

The silver crescent beneath her skin pulsed faintly. The black mark below it, shaped like a crescent split by a blade, seemed darker than before.

Xavier’s grip tightened around the steering wheel.

“When did the pain begin?”

“When the bells started.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to see whether you would admit yours hurt first.”

He shot her a look.

Freya smiled without humor. “You see? We both have terrible habits.”

“Mine keep people alive.”

“Mine keep me from trusting men who think they know everything.”

The corner of his mouth moved, but he didn’t smile.

Instead, he removed his right glove.

The golden symbol glimmered across his wrist.

Freya’s silver mark answered immediately.

A sharp pulse shot through her arm. She sucked in a breath, clutching her wrist as the SUV’s headlights flickered.

Xavier swore under his breath and pulled onto the shoulder.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Freya felt it.

Something beneath the mountain was calling to her.

Not with words. Not with a voice.

It was a pressure behind her ribs, a terrible familiarity that made her want to cry for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“It’s open,” she whispered.

Xavier looked toward the mountain.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

He raised his marked wrist.

The golden symbol had changed. A thin line now extended from the center of the sigil, pointing toward the distant peak.

Toward the sanctuary.

Xavier stared at it with an expression Freya had never seen on his face before.

Fear.

Not fear for himself.

Fear of what he might discover.

The sanctuary stood at the end of a narrow stone path, hidden between towering cliffs.

Freya had expected a ruined temple, perhaps a forgotten shrine swallowed by snow and time.

Instead, the structure looked almost untouched.

Black stone pillars rose on either side of a massive entrance. Silver runes covered the archway, their surfaces shining beneath the moonlight. The doors, each taller than a house, stood open by several inches.

A cold wind breathed through the gap.

No footprints marked the snow leading to them.

Not one.

The royal guards stopped at the edge of the courtyard.

“Your Majesty,” their captain said, “we found no signs of entry. The doors were closed when our patrol passed here less than an hour ago.”

“And the wards?”

“Intact.”

Freya looked at the open doors. “Then how did someone get inside?”

The captain exchanged a glance with Xavier.

“That,” he admitted, “is what frightens us.”

Xavier drew a short ceremonial blade from beneath his coat. It wasn’t the weapon of a king preparing for war. It was the kind of blade used in ancient rites, its silver hilt engraved with the same golden symbol that marked his wrist.

Freya’s own mark burned.

She caught his arm.

“Don’t.”

His gaze dropped to her hand.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. But the moment you drew that blade, something inside reacted.”

The sanctuary’s doors groaned.

They opened another inch.

From within came a sound like chains dragging across stone.

Xavier’s expression hardened. “Everyone stays here.”

He stepped toward the entrance.

Freya followed.

He turned. “That was not an invitation.”

“And I wasn’t asking permission.”

“Freya.”

She held his gaze. “You said I could use my judgment.”

For a long moment, the king looked as though he regretted every word he had ever spoken to her.

Then he exhaled sharply.

“Stay behind me.”

“That’s more like a suggestion.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Dorian found you difficult.”

The mention of Dorian struck an unexpected nerve.

Freya’s smile vanished.

“Dorian didn’t find me difficult. He found me easy to discard.”

Something changed in Xavier’s expression.

He didn’t offer sympathy. He didn’t tell her that Dorian was a fool or that she deserved better.

He simply turned toward the sanctuary.

“Then let’s make certain no one else gets the chance.”

Together, they crossed the threshold.