From Rejected Mate to Luna (Julia White) novel Chapter 143

Luna

Nathan’s POV

Three days in the isolation room had given me clarity. My initial rage at being stripped of my birthright had crystal to something

far more potent–calculation. I sat on the edge of the hard bed, watching shadows creep across the floor as afternoon sunlight fittered

through the reinforced window. The time for tantrums had passed. Now was the time for strategy.

When the guard brought my evening meal, I requested to see my mother, “Please,” I said, my voice deliberately hoarse from what they

would assume was emotional distress. “I need to speak with Luna Emma.”

An hour later, the door opened. My mother’s familiar jasmine perfume reached me before I saw her face, concerned and hopeful Perfect

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“Nathan,” she whispered, rushing to embrace me. I allowed myself to tremble slightly in her arms.

“Mom, I’ve been having nightmares,” I confessed, forcing tears to well in my eyes. “Terrible dreams about Dad dying, about everything falling apart.” I looked up at her, the perfect image of a broken son. “I was wrong. So wrong about everything

Her fingers brushed my hair back, just as she’d done when I was a child. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“The isolation, it’s… it’s making me see things clearly.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t even care about being Alpha anymore. I just want to

make things right. I’ll get therapy. I’ll do whatever Dad wants.”

Mother’s eyes softened, exactly as I knew they would. “Let me talk to your father.”

Two hours later, I stood in my father’s study, eyes downcast in practiced humility as he laid out the terms of my release. I would remain

in the east wing of the mansion under surveillance. I would attend therapy twice weekly. I would have no contact with Julia White or any

members of Spring Valley pack.

“And you will not–under any circumstances–challenge my decision regarding the succession,” he finished, steel in his voice.

“I understand, Alpha,” I replied, the title feeling bitter on my tongue. “I only want to heal now.”

Father studied me with narrowed eyes, but Mother squeezed his arm. “Robert, he deserves a second chance.”

The family library housed centuries of werewolf knowledge. While ostensibly researching psychology for my “therapy,” I found exactly

what I needed in an ancient leather–bound volume hidden behind more modern texts. Silver Tree Honey–a toxin derived from a rare

flowering plant that grew in silver–rich soil. Lethal to werewolves, it caused cardiac arrest but left minimal traces a standard autopsy

could detect,

Through a darkweb contact, I secured a vial of the amber liquid, keeping it hidden in a hollowed–out psychology textbook. Meanwhile, i

observed my father’s daily routines. Every evening without fail, Mother prepared his special herbal tea a blend to ‘calm an Alpha’s

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Chapter 143

heightened senses‘ after a day of pack leadership,

The perfect delivery system.

I positioned myself at the garden path early one morning, knowing Mother would return from her run at precisely 6:15: When she appeared, I pretended to be lost in troubled thoughts,

“Nathan? You’re up early. Her forehead creased with concern when she noticed the dark circles under my eyes–carefully enhanced with a touch of eye shadow applied in the predawn light.

“The dreams again,” 1 murmured, “About Dad, I keep seeing him clutching his chest, collapsing…” I shuddered convincingly,

“It’s just anxiety, sweetheart. She placed a comforting hand on my arm.

“Maybe, I conceded, then hesitated as if reluctant to continue, “I studied cardiac health these days. There’s this special herbal combination that strengthens the heart. I’ve been thinking… with Dad’s workload and stress…”

I pulled out a notebook with highlighted sections on herbal medicine, watching her interest grow. “It’s supposed to be particularly effective for our kind,” I added, “Alpha wolves carry so much of the pack’s emotional burden.”

Mother studied the page I’d carefully prepared, with the real ingredients that would mask the toxin’s taste. “This might really help him,” she said thoughtfully.

I smiled, genuinely this time. “I thought it might be a way to show him I care. A first step toward healing our relationship.”

The family dinner was my suggestion–a gesture of reconciliation, I chose Friday, knowing Father would be exhausted from the monthly territory negotiations. Mother, delighted by my apparent effort, prepared his favorite meal.

“I’ll make Robert’s tea extra strong tonight,” she confided as we set the table together. “With those special herbs you suggested.”

5 nodded, feeling a curious detachment as I watched her bustle around the kitchen. When she stepped out to greet my father, I quickly added three drops of Silver Tree Honey to the steaming mug. The amber liquid dissolved instantly, leaving no trace.

Throughout dinner, 1 was the model of contrition. I engaged my father in conversations about pack traditions, appearing eager to learn from his wisdom, Mother watched with proud tears in her eyes, pleased by our apparent reconciliation.

“You’ve done wonderful work with the northern alliance, Dad,” I said, the compliment calculated to soften him further.

Mother beamed, reaching for his tea mug. Your spectal blend, dear,” she said, placing it before him with love in her eyes. “With some extra herbs Hathan suggested for your heart?

ite raised an eyebrow at me, the first hint of genuine warmth I’d seen in weeks. For a heartbeat, a memory flashed–hunting together

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Chapter 143

I was ferbe, his hand on my shoulder, proud of my first dest. Something twisted in my chest, but I crashed it down as he lifted the

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