From Rejected Mate to Luna (Julia White) novel Chapter 129

Chapter 129

Unless he couldn’t stop it. Or worse, unless he approved it.

Hours passed as I stared at the ceiling, my mind cycling through

increasingly desperate scenarios. If they were planning to exile me,

they’d have done it already. If they believed Julia’s accusations, there

would be a formal trial. This silence, this isolation–it felt like they

were deciding something. Something big.

Around midnight, a scratching sound caught my attention. My

enhanced hearing picked up tiny claws skittering along the

baseboard. A mouse. I’d smelled it earlier but ignored it. Now, I

watched with newfound interest as it darted from beneath the desk to

the corner.

An idea formed. Not a good one, but desperate times called for

desperate measures.

I moved slowly, positioning myself near the rodent’s path. My

reflexes, even in human form, were far superior to any normal

predator. The mouse sensed danger and froze. Too late. My hand shot

out, capturing the tiny creature before it could escape.

“Sorry, little guy,” I muttered, feeling its rapid heartbeat against my

palm. “Sacrifices must be made.”

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Chapter 129

With a quick, practiced motion, I snapped its neck. Clean, quick. I’d

hunted in wolf form enough times to know how to kill efficiently.

Working methodically, I used my fingernails to open the rodent’s

belly, collecting the still–warm blood in my cupped palm. Perfect. I

spread the blood across my left wrist in a convincing pattern,

mimicking a deep slash. I created another line across my throat,

letting the blood drip down onto my shirt collar.

I tore a strip from my sheet and left it nearby–my supposed cutting

instrument. After hiding the mouse carcass in the toilet and flushing,

I returned to the bed. I practiced a few times–positioning myself,

controlling my breathing, slowing my heart rate to a barely

detectable level. A skill all born werewolves learned young, but I’d

always been particularly good at it.

By morning, I was ready. When I heard footsteps approaching for

breakfast, I arranged myself on the floor where I’d be immediately

visible when the door opened. One arm outstretched, wrist up,

displaying the dried blood. Head lolled to the side, exposing my

blood–smeared throat. Eyes partially open but unfocused, body

completely limp.

The security member entered, tray in hand. I heard his sharp intake

of breath, followed by the clatter of dishes as the tray hit the floor.

“Reynolds? Shit!” He rushed to my side, fingers pressing against my

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Chapter 129

neck to find a pulse. I’d slowed my heart rate so significantly that

even a werewolf would have trouble detecting it without

concentrating.

“HELP!” he shouted toward the door. “Need medical in here NOW!

He’s cut himself!”

His hands moved frantically between my wrist and neck, trying to

find the wounds beneath the blood. He wouldn’t–the blood had dried

in a pattern that mimicked lacerations without actually having any.

“Reynolds, come on man!” He slapped my face lightly, then harder when I didn’t respond. My head rolled limply with the impact. “Fuck,

fuck, FUCK!”

I heard him speak into his radio, voice tight with panic. “I need Dr.

Moore and Alpha Reynolds at the containment room immediately!

Reynolds has attempted suicide!”

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