The Alpha's Unwanted Luna (by Miss L) novel Chapter 333

Chapter 333

“Does the trail lead all the way to the cliff face?” I ask, glancing back at Elara. She shoots me a look that clearly says, *Are you serious?* I can’t help but grin—a genuine smile that’s been absent from my face for far too long. “Just checking,” I reply casually. She lets out a soft, amused sigh and pushes onward.

When we reach the grove, every scent trail but one fades away. She was right—it belongs to a female, someone about our age. If she’s a rogue, she’s a fresh one. Her scent lacks the usual sickly sweetness of decaying compost that typically clings to rogue markers. And she doesn’t smell like she belongs to any pack either.

“There,” I say, pointing to a narrow crevice in the rock face. Elara could slip through it easily, but I’m going to have to squeeze myself in. The opening is tight, barely wide enough for a person.

We move forward quietly, senses sharpened, alert for anyone watching the entrance. Maybe she thought the numerous scent trails she left behind would act as a deterrent, keeping the cave safe from intruders. Or perhaps there are more hidden listening devices. We still haven’t figured out the full extent of that mystery. Since our initial discovery, I’ve only found one more. Whoever planted them must have realized we uncovered their operation, left one more as a test, then either gave up or got better at hiding them.

“Ready?” Elara asks, glancing back at me.

“After you,” I say.

“For once, you’re not going to argue with me? Usually, you make me wait while you scout, sniff, investigate, and stall. Now you just want me to lead us into the unknown?” She sounds half amused, half incredulous.

“Yeah,” I reply with a smile. This time, she returns it.

Elara slips through the narrow opening, stifling a laugh as I struggle to follow her. My broad frame gets snagged, and I can feel my shirt tear in a couple of places. When we finally make it inside, I know I’ll be nursing scratches and bruises on my arms and legs later. But before I can dwell on that, a sharp, acidic smell hits me like a punch to the face. It’s a preservative scent, reminiscent of the pickled vegetables Luna Beth makes from her garden.

“What the hell is all this?” Elara whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Whatever ‘this’ is, it’s been going on for a while,” I say, scanning the rows of shelves packed with supplies. There are jars filled with powders and bottles containing colored liquids, all meticulously labeled—not with words, but with strange symbols. “Someone’s covering their bases,” I mutter under my breath.

“But what is it all for?” she asks, stepping closer to a table arranged with surgeon-like precision.

Just then, my comm crackles to life. “Ben, we’ve got some information,” Chance’s voice comes through.

“What’s going on, Chance?” I reply.

“Three of Junior’s teens have been found dead over the last six months. No signs of an attack. And two more went missing just last week.”

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