The Return of the Fallen Luna: Rise of the Heiress-Chapter 29 Chase

She could already feel that her scent was no longer masked. The paste she had used all over her body was useless now, washed away by her own sweat.

There was no hiding anymore.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself forward, limping into the passage despite the weakness she was feeling. Dragging her exhausted and battered body, she could only take one step at a time.

Upstairs, the two warriors stirred.

Their noses twitched first.

Then they groaned, bodies shifting as consciousness returned. They jolted upright, only to clutch their heads, disoriented as a splitting pain tore through them.

The two warriors shook their heads, trying to clear the lingering disorientation as their gazes swept across the room. The moment they realized Ashley was gone, there was no surprise in their eyes, only a knowing look passed between them, followed by slow, satisfied grins.

The hunt had begun.

The one closest to the door bent down and picked up the phone from the floor, its flashlight still cutting through the darkness. He glanced at the screen and saw that the recording was still active. A low chuckle slipped from his lips as he straightened, though his body wavered slightly.

Even with his wolf already healing the damage, the pain hadn’t fully faded. His head throbbed violently, like his skull had been cracked open and forced back together.

Still, it didn’t matter.

He steadied himself, eyes dark with intent, already eager to continue where they left off.

"I’ll make sure that bitch pays..." the first warrior growled, the one who had been slammed against the wall. He forced himself upright, only to lurch forward as dizziness struck, nearly sending him crashing to the floor again.

His temper snapped.

They had been careless and too damn complacent. They’d let their guard down the moment they saw her injured, weak, like an easy prey. A whole month of seeing her like that had dulled their instincts, made them forget who Ashley really was.

A fighter.

Even without a wolf, she could go toe-to-toe with them in close combat. Injured or not, she had still managed to put them down, and that humiliation burned.

To be overpowered by someone they looked down on... an omega, no less, it felt like their pride had been ground into the dirt.

And that only made the anger rising in their chests sharper.

"Come on. Let’s find her and finish this," the second warrior said, far more composed than the other.

Still, something about this didn’t sit right with him.

They both knew the villa was sealed and all exits locked, windows barred. There should’ve been nowhere for her to go. And yet... he couldn’t shake the unease crawling under his skin. Ashley wasn’t ordinary. With wolf or without, she used to be the daughter of an Alpha, raised alongside Nathan. They all knew how resourceful she could be.

And worse, she didn’t break easily.

If they gave her even a sliver of time, who knew what she might pull off?

His jaw tightened. "Move."

They followed her scent, sharp and unmistakable now, trailing through the air as they moved. It led them straight to the cellar door.

The two exchanged a glance.

That same unease flickered between them, then they pushed forward, heading down without hesitation, quickening their pace as they descended.

The moment they reached the bottom of the stairs, both warriors’ noses twitched.

They caught the scent of blood, and the scent hung thick in the air.

The first warrior’s grin slowly stretched wider, something feral lighting in his eyes as exhilaration surged through his veins. It was the scent of their prey, who are wounded, desperate, but still running on her last scraps of strength. That final, futile struggle before collapsing.

To a predator, there was nothing more intoxicating than this.

His chest swelled with cruel satisfaction, pride flaring at the thought of it. "That damned bitch won’t get far," he said, voice laced with arrogance. "She’s probably cornered herself down here already... I thought she was smarter than that."

He let out a low chuckle, convinced that the hunt was already over.

"You can’t be so sure," the second warrior said with a low chuckle as he moved ahead. "She covered herself in masking paste, remember? It only faded because she started sweating."

He expected to find her crumpled somewhere in the cellar, looking all broken, trembling, and easy to drag back. The image alone almost amused him. It would make the footage better. Maddison would love it.

But when he reached the end of the wine racks—

There was nothing.

Her scent was there, still strong and fresh. And the metallic tang of blood lingered in the air. Dark smears marked the base of the stairs, telling their own story that she had fallen, likely worsening her injury.

Which meant she shouldn’t or couldn’t have gotten far.

Yet she was nowhere.

His grip tightened around the phone as he swept the flashlight across the cellar, pacing, searching. He kicked through crates, shoved aside racks, even split open a wine barrel in frustration as he looked for her, red spilling across the floor like wasted blood.

Still nothing.

No movement. No figure. No Ashley.

And then it hit him.

A cold, sinking realization settling deep in his gut.

"Stop dawdling! Help me search, she’s hiding somewhere!" the second warrior snarled, his eyes flashing red with rising anger.

Wine flooded the floor from the barrels he had smashed, the sharp scent spreading fast and choking the air. He cursed under his breath, realizing too late what he’d done. But the scent of the wine was drowning everything else, especially Ashley’s trail. If this went on, their heightened senses would be useless, her scent completely swallowed.

And if that happened—

They could lose her.

This was exactly why Ashley had chosen the cellar for the hidden exit.

She had anticipated how rogues operated; they are reckless, driven by instinct, chasing any trace of scent like rabid hounds. If they caught even the faintest hint that someone had fled into the cellar, they wouldn’t think; they’d just tear the place apart. They’d assume the target was hiding behind those racks, inside those barrels, and anywhere within reach.

And once that mindset took hold, they would destroy everything in sight.

Barrels shattered. Wine spilling.

The scent of wine overpowers the scent of the runaway.

The thick, sharp aroma of the wine would dull their tracking, drowning out any trace of the one they were hunting. Worse, if they lingered too long in that confined space, the fumes alone could start to affect them, cloud their senses, and slow their reactions.

By the time they realized it, it would already be too late.

They wouldn’t be hunting anymore.

They’d just be stumbling in circles, like blind dogs looking all useless.

And one more thing, there was another reason behind the design.

Ashley had made the mechanism deliberately specific — twisting the wall-mounted candle holder counterclockwise three times — so no one could stumble onto it by accident. If it had been something simple, like pulling or pushing, anyone searching in a panic could have triggered it without meaning to.

And that would’ve been dangerous.

It would give the pursuers a direct path to follow, cutting off any chance of escape.