Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 365

Chapter 365: Montegue Manor

Hades

The ride to Montegue Manor was brutal.

Not for its pace—but for what it meant.

Two flanks. Two Alphas. One purpose.

My Gammas rode in coordinated units, vehicles sleek and soundless. Cain’s operatives followed in looser formation, silent and alert—rogues in customized gear, the kind built for smuggling, not politics. Yet here we were, converging on the ancestral estate of one of Obsidian’s founding bloodlines.

The manor rose ahead. Not decayed or abandoned like I once believed—but pristine in a way that was deliberate. Restored in vintage-modern elegance, with sleek security systems tucked under ivy-draped gables and clean-cut stone. It looked untouched by the wars we fought. Hidden in plain sight.

Of course it was.

I brought the satcom to my ear.

It didn’t ring.

Montegue answered on the first pulse.

"Alpha Hades."

"I assume you know about the explosion," I said flatly.

"It’s already on the feeds. I’ve issued statements, worked damage control with the Communications Guild and three of the civilian blocs. The Council’s calling an emergency session in thirty."

I scanned the estate as our units fanned out, surrounding it with trained efficiency.

"I know you went with the Gamma deployment," Montegue added quietly. "We saw your movement logs. I figured you’d follow the trail yourself."

His voice dipped on the last words—not out of fear, but shame. Montegue was never a man to wear guilt, but now it hung from his throat like a noose.

I didn’t offer comfort.

"They’re gone," I said. "No trail. No scent. No displacement. Like they dissolved into smoke."

A beat of silence passed between us, heavy and bitter.

"I have Cain with me."

Montegue exhaled, the sound sharp and disbelieving. "You called in the rogues?"

"I didn’t call him. He came. We’re aligned, for now. His men know the veins under Obsidian better than anyone alive."

"And still nothing?"

"Not a damn footprint."

"All hands are on deck," I said, voice low. "But it’s like they were never here.

Montegue didn’t respond for a long moment. Then:

"She planned this with them."

"Yes."

"She had time."

"Yes."

"She used me."

I didn’t answer that one.

Because we both already knew.

"She’s not just running," I said. "She’s mobilizing. Consolidating. Every step has been surgical."

Montegue’s voice came through again—this time hoarse with restrained fury. "Then I’ll brief the Council. Full transparency. You’ll have my full support."

"You’ll give me the damn clearance, Montegue. Not just support."

"You have it. Anything you need."

"I need your manor," I said, voice clipped. "Full access. No delays. No secrets."

A pause.

Then, "My—what?"

"Montegue Manor," I repeated coldly. "That’s the place I need clearance for."

I could hear the shift in his breath. Not shock. Not outrage. Just that brief stutter of a man connecting the last dots—and hating the image that formed.

"You think my estate was part of this?"

"I think it’s the only place close enough to the Tower, fortified enough to hold them, and old enough to be off modern surveillance," I said. "And it’s yours. Which means it was the one place Felicia could walk into without raising a single alarm."

"Hades..." Montegue’s voice was lower now. "Do you really believe she used my estate for this?"

"I don’t believe, Montegue. I know."

I motioned to my Gamma Beta as our convoy rolled to a halt in the gravel courtyard. Cain’s vehicles parked beside ours—sleek black shadows against the pale façade of the manor. My boots hit the earth just as the first defensive grid lit up faintly across the estate perimeter.

"She had access," I continued, pacing toward the wrought-iron gates. "She had history. She had every reason to believe no one would check here—because even you forgot about it. Or wanted to."

"She wanted to see her childhood room when I helped her escape. I didn’t know why," Montegue admitted over the line, voice raw. "

"Of course you didn’t," I snapped. "That’s the point. This place was her fallback. Quiet. Off-record. Close enough to Obsidian for a retreat, but far enough to regroup. You said it yourself—she’s consolidating."

I stopped before the door and looked up at the crest above the arched entry.

Montegues.

Still proud. Still etched in stone.

"Then take it," Montegue said at last. "Whatever is mine—consider it yours until this is done. I’m sending my override codes. You’ll have full clearance. Every room. Every vault."

A soft ping sounded in my earpiece—access confirmed.

"Good," I said.

I ended the call.

Cain emerged from his car, cracking his neck as he surveyed the manor with a low whistle. "It’s a beauty."

"Stick to the mission," I hissed, already signaling the breach units forward.

Within seconds, the main gates clicked open with a hiss. Lights flickered on across the entry terrace—vintage glass sconces, modern wiring. Every aesthetic touch was intentional. Every blind spot, now suspect.

"Move in," I ordered, voice like gravel. "Sweep left and right sectors. Cain, take the western wing."

"My men already have schematics," Cain said with a smirk, tapping his comm. "We’ll sweep clean. If Felicia’s hiding rats in the walls, we’ll drag them out."

The teams flowed in—black and silver armor, boots in sync. Rogues and Gammas, working like they’d done this a thousand times, even though their allegiance to each other was held together by a thread and a threat.

But for now, we were unified.

Because Felicia had made her move.

And it was our turn to make hers unravel.

The manor opened to us like a house that wanted to be found—but only just.

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