Chapter 21: Lucky Charm

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Lucky Charm

Caelus and Caelian finally wrenched Caesar free from Azura’s iron grip with a sound like a vacuum seal breaking—POP!—and both collapsed backward onto the floor, gasping like they’d just run a marathon through a swamp.

They were more exhausted than the time they killed fifty rogues in one night. And those rogues had been armed. And sober. And not trying to suffocate their brother with mammary tissue.

As for Caesar?

He sat on the floor like a haunted Victorian child. His soul had clearly taken a vacation to a dimension where boobs didn’t exist, and it was refusing to come back.

"Caesar." Caelian waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. "Caesar, brother. You in there?"

"...Soft," Caesar whispered. "...So soft."

"Oh no. He’s broken."

Meanwhile, on the bed, completely unaware that she had just committed assault with a deadly chest, Azura was now punching the air and shouting in her sleep.

"TASTE THE WRATH OF THE SPICY HOT POT FIST! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! AND NOW—THE SICHUAN PEPPERCORN PALM STRIKE!"

The triplets stared.

"...."

"Brothers. I have fought rogues. I have survived pack wars. I have seen men die in ways that would make the Moon Goddess weep. But I have never been more terrified than I am right now."

Caelian slowly turned to his brothers.

"And by the way... Did she just name an attack after Chinese food?"

"Don’t question it," Caelus muttered. "The moment you question it, you lose."

Suddenly, Oliver’s voice detonated inside their skulls like a flashbang grenade wrapped in panic.

Caelus and Caelian snapped upright so fast they nearly gave themselves whiplash. They grabbed Caesar by both arms and hauled him to his feet like a sack of traumatized potatoes.

"Caesar. Move. Now."

"...But the soft—"

"THE SOFT WILL BE THERE LATER. RIGHT NOW, THE BROTHER IS HERE."

Caelus shoved Caesar toward the window. The man moved on autopilot, limbs floppy like a ragdoll possessed by a confused ghost.

Caelian lingered, turning back to look at Azura, still fast asleep and now murmuring about bubble tea.

"...What about her? We came here to kidnap her. Are we seriously leaving without the loot?"

"We’ll postpone it. Three days." Caelus grabbed the fallen blanket and tossed it over Azura’s naked body with the precision of a man who had seen too much. "We still have business in the human territory near this pack anyway. And Uncle Kyler is there for his own dealings."

Caelian’s face scrunched up like he’d bitten into a lemon.

"...Wait. So we’re going to ask Uncle Kyler to help us kidnap a woman whose wolf is on vacation, who just sexually assaulted Caesar with her boobs, and who is currently dreaming about being a kung fu chef?"

He paused.

"He’s going to mock us until we die of shame. He’ll put it on our tombstones. ’Here lies Caelian Blackwood. He couldn’t kidnap one sleepy girl. He needed his uncle’s help.’"

"We are bringing Uncle here later," Caelus said flatly, one hand gripping the windowsill. "But we don’t need him to do anything."

And with that cryptic bombshell, he jumped.

Caelian landed beside him a second later, his brain still trying to process the words as his feet hit the ground with a soft thud.

"...What?"

He blinked at his older brother, genuinely baffled.

"Then why the hell are we dragging the human icicle into this mess? For emotional support? So he can hold our hands while we commit a felony? So he can read us a bedtime story after we successfully kidnap a woman who fights her own wolf in her sleep?"

Caelus didn’t even flinch. He simply adjusted his collar, eyes fixed ahead.

"Uncle Kyler has good luck."

Silence.

Caelian’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again like a fish having an existential crisis.

"...I’m sorry, what?"

"Since we entered that girl’s room, we’ve had nothing but bad luck. Caesar got traumatized by boobs. We got slapped. Kicked. Had objects thrown at us by a sleeping woman. And lastly, she summoned a skill called ’Spicy Hot Pot Fist.’ We are bringing Uncle to fix the energy."

Caelian stared at his brother like he’d just suggested they consult a fortune teller made of cheese.

"So let me get this straight... you want to use Uncle Kyler... as a good luck charm? Like a four-leaf clover. But angrier. And wearing a suit."

"Yes."

"To ward off the bad vibes of a naked she-wolf who fights in her sleep?"

"Correct."

Caelian shuddered so violently his entire body convulsed.

"If Uncle finds out we’re using him as a lucky charm, he will destroy us. He won’t kill us. That would be too merciful. He’ll make our lives a living hell for a month. Minimum. He’ll make us attend diplomatic meetings with elders who talk for six hours about taxes. He’ll—"

"We won’t tell him."

"HE’S OUR GODDAMN UNCLE. HE’LL SENSE IT."

Before Caelian could continue his very valid argument, Oliver dropped from his tree like a ninja with abandonment issues, landing with a soft crunch on the grass. He took one look at Caesar, who was still shuffling forward like a zombie with emotional damage, and his eye twitched.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t want to know.

"Alphas. Hurry." Oliver gestured sharply, already moving toward the fence. "Her brother’s car just pulled into the driveway. We have thirty seconds before he’s inside."

The triplets didn’t need to be told twice.

They vaulted over the fence like trained assassins—though Caesar nearly face-planted and had to be grabbed by the back of his jacket by Caelus—and disappeared into the shadows, running faster than wolves being chased by a very angry, very naked she-wolf’s ghost.

---

At the same time, Jonathan’s car rolled to a stop in the driveway.

He sat there for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel, his face a mask of gloom and confusion. He stared up at the second-floor window—Azura’s room—with the expression of a man who had been through too much in one night.

Finally, with a long, defeated sigh, he unlocked the car door and stepped out.

---

Morning came like a freight train made of regret.

Azura’s eyes cracked open, and immediately her brain tried to sue her body for damages. Her head throbbed like someone was using it as a bongo drum. She groaned, lifting a hand to rub her temples.

"Ugh... how strong is this world’s beer...? I only drank five cans... I can handle seven in my world... EASY..."

She tried to sit up.

Then the blanket slipped.

She looked down.

She was naked.

She stared at her chest. Her chest stared back, unhelpful.

"...So apparently, when I get drunk, I strip naked." She paused, deadpan. "Please don’t tell me that’s a requirement for transmigrating into a porn novel. I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up for villainess redemption. NOT NAKED REDEMPTION."

She had no idea that she had done far more than just strip. She had no memory of suffocating one of the male leads with her bare breasts. And honestly? Maybe it was better that way.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, Azura emerged from her room like a soldier returning from war. Her mission? Find Jonathan. Follow him to the pack house. Stalk Selena. Become the repentant angelic sister.

The smell of pancakes hit her like a truck made of happiness.

She bolted to the kitchen.

"JONATHAN! MORNING!" she chirped, sliding into the room like a sitcom character. "Did you come back at midnight or dawn? I tried to stay awake but I passed out. Also I think I fought someone in my dreams. But that’s normal."

Jonathan set two plates of pancakes on the table, his movements deliberate and slow. He sat down without a word, his face serious. ℯ

Azura’s smile faltered.

She sat across from him, suddenly nervous.

"...Jonathan? Did something bad happen?"