His Lost Lycan Luna

His Lost Lycan Luna By Jessica Hall Chapter 71

Read His Lost Lycan Luna by Jessica Hall Chapter 71 – It took me a good few minutes to spot him kneeling behind a huge headstone. Wandering over to him, he looked up when my shadow cast over him.

“Ivy, I mean my Queen,” he said, baring his neck to me.

“Ivy is fine,” I tell him, and he lets out a breath.

“So can I help you with something?” he asked, and I shrugged, looking down at what he was doing. He was scrubbing and cleaning the headstones and removing the d**d flowers.

“Want some help?” I asked, and he chewed his lip before peering over the headstone and glancing at the castle. “Are you allowed?” He whispered, and I peered back over at the castle.

“Yes, I don’t see why not,” I shrugged.

“Well, I am nearly done with this row. If you grab another bucket and brush, you’ll also need a polishing rag,” he said, showing me his tucked into his belt. Nodding, I turned and walked back toward the castle.

“In the laundry room, Ivy,” he called, and I nodded, going in search of the cleaning supplies.

stares from those working in the laundry, but they said nothing or questioned me as I slipped back out with everything. Making my way back to

want me?” I asked

the middle. Those are pretty old though and require more scrubbing, or there is the servant’s cemetery over there,” he said, pointing closest to the forest and castle. “Or the hunters and rebels’ victims are the ones

“Hunters and rebels victims?”

of those k****d by rebel leaders Marrissa and Darclay, Marissa was a rogue werewolf she k****d the King’s sister and that um, the royal family, they live, yeah I don’t know hours out that-away, he said,

stuck at the

there?” I asked, looking out at

pretend to be a servant and then k**l everyone while they were sleeping. Most of those are from

lives had been lost, and because my mother was

worst Lycan serial k****r in history,”

his sister, and Marrissa cut her unborn child out of her and mutilated her before stuffing her back in her

was cleaning and made my way to the back. The first grave l came to belonged to a woman kneeling down. I set to work. When I finished hers, I moved to the next and looked across the rows; the weight of what my mother had done settled heavily on

the grave in front of me, I noticed that it had the same last name as the woman’s grave beside it and that it

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