The Heartless Alpha’s Beloved Luna (Avery and Gideon) novel Chapter 277

Chapter 277

Avery’s POV

My heart shattered.

I tried to hold onto the pieces. I tried to tell myself that Asher was lying, that Gideon hadn’t been right here, in this very camp, last night. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t true. Gideon wouldn’t have come for Deirdre. He wouldn’t have just… left me here.

Still, no matter how tightly I clenched my fists around those shards, a few slipped free.

Had Gideon left me here?

For Deirdre?

No. I refused to believe it. Asher was lying. He was trying to get in my head. Gideon hadn’t been here. I would have sensed him, wouldn’t I?

Wouldn’t I?

By the next morning, I felt marginally better I’d managed to eat a little bit of food, and regained some of my strength. My resolve had hardened—I needed to get out of here. Quickly.

I dressed as soon as I could and left my tent, where a guard was standing watch. He was a tall, muscular male with tanned skin and a long, dark beard. There was a scar cutting across the bridge of his nose that clearly hadn’t healed properly a long time

ago.

“I’d like to go for a walk,” I said, mustering my courage. I didn’t wait for a response before I started walking away.

The guard grunted something in response and trailed behind me as I wandered the camp. I toured the entire place again, ensuring my mental map was perfect. Then, I started studying the smaller details: the locations of various notable landmarks, such as a tent that had blue embroidery around the door, and a pile of crates,

“Do you like it around here?” I asked, glancing up at my guard. I hoped to try to befriend him. Maybe he could give me some information, such as when the patrol shifts rotated.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me

“Did you hear me?”

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Chapter 277

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“Yes,” he muttered.

“You’re just not gonna answer?”

“Nope.”

y the bound bythen

I pursed my lips and kept walking. Well, that was a bust. But I kind of figured that would happen.

I was passing by the pen where the goats were kept when I noticed her. There was a girl walking through the pen, clad in the same silver chains and rags as the other slaves. She looked young, and was carrying a bucket in each hand, struggling under the weight. One was filled with water, the other with grain for the goats.

What stood out to me wasn’t her appearance, but the fact that she looked at me and smiled.

And then she tripped, and grain and water went flying everywhere. The goats swarmed her, clamoring to get a mouthful of grain.

I took a step toward the gate and reached for the lock. My guard grunted at me. Where are you going?”

“To help her,” I said. “Unless you expect me to just stand here and watch her get trampled by goats?”

The guard didn’t look pleased as he folded his arms, but he didn’t stop me again. I opened the gate and slipped into the pen, shooing aside the goats.

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