Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 201

Chapter 201

Skye

The car park is half-empty when I get back to my car. I must’ve been in that store longer than I planned for. I guess that’s what happens when you word vomit your whole life story to a stranger with kind eyes and a willing

ear.

My mind drifts as I absently search for my keys, thinking about the drive home. About how I’m going to make t into the room with my bag of lingerie without them seeing it. About the look on Nicolai’s face and what Jaxon will say when they see me in it, whether the heat is close enough now that being in the same room with both of them will-

I’m completely distracted, lost in thought, and paying no attention to my surroundings. So I miss the scent until it hits me half a second before I register movement in my peripheral vision. Wrong. Unfamiliar. Eastern pack markers that don’t belong here.

I drop my shopping bag and spin to face the owners of the rancid scent, my arms already moving into a defensive position. My father raised me in an Alpha’s house. I spent three years as Jaxon’s Luna, training as was expected of me. I know how to fight.

I manage to get one of them in the face-an elbow to the nose, hard, the way my father taught me. The sound of bone crunching confirms the contact and he swears. His grip loosens and I step out of his reach while he clutches his nose but it’s not enough.

There’s another man with him and he’s circled behind me while I was busy with his partner. He grabs my arms, wrenching them behind my back before I can slip away. I throw my weight back and try for his instep just the way I was taught. I feel my foot connect with something-he grunts-

Struggling free should be easier while he’s recovering from the unexpected shock of pain. But there’s two of them and only one of me. The other man is there before I can get away, looking especially gruesome wearing a leer with blood dripping from his nose and down his chin. I shove the heel of my hand forward, intending to inflict further damage to his already rapidly swelling face but he’s ready this time and sidesteps the blow easily. And the next thing I feel is something sharp in my neck.

An injection, my brain helpfully supplies. Cold flows fast through my bloodstream, like tendrils of ice unfurling in my body. Suddenly, my limbs feel heavy and my attempt at taking a step becomes an uncoordinated lurch forward.

Shift, my wolf screams. Shift now. But my wolf hasn’t been out for over a year and the drug is working faster than instinct and the shift won’t come and my knees buckle-that’s the last thing I remember.

I’m in a vehicle when my eyes open next. Moving. But my head feels like a lead brick, too much weight to lift to inspect my surroundings

My bag is on the ground in the car park. I think. I have no idea what happened to my phone. This is very, very bad.

The drive takes –I don’t know how long. They don’t speak to me the entire trip. At least not to say anything other than hurled insults.

“Who the fuck are you?” I try to suffuse my tone with all the rage I feel but it comes out more like a pitiful whimper. “Where are you taking me?”

They don’t answer my questions, summarily ignoring my demands for information.

“Shut up you bitch whore!” Is the only response I get.

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But one of them is holding a cloth to his nose from where I caught him with my elbow, which gives me a grim Satisfaction. That is the only thing I have so I cling to it.

I focus on staying conscious against the drug still circulating. Pulling myself into a sitting position is a feat in itself, especially with my feet bound together and my arms tied behind my back. But I eventually manage to heave myself up.

I half expect one of them to turn and shove me back down but neither of them so much as flinches in my direction. A testament to how little of a threat they find me, I suppose. Which is fair, at least for the moment.

My eyelids keep trying to close but I refuse to let them. Every second is a battle to keep them open so I can try to catalog details. Try to track the turns even as my vision blurs. I’m not sure how I’ll use the information but it feels important and gives me something to focus on other than my shit situation.

How stupid, I think. How completely stupid could I be to go out alone. I should have known better, should’ve considered the danger given the suspicions Nicolai has shared with me, but I was too damn fixated on my heat coming to think rationally. Fuck, he’s ginna be pissed. Jaxon too.

All the planning and the security protocols and Mikhail and the estate’s layers of protection, and I walked out of it for an errand I didn’t tell anyone about because I wanted one morning that was mine before my heat consumed me. And now-

I think about Benji. He’s only eleven months old and he needs his mother. I think about Nicolai’s face this morning at breakfast, the adoring look he reserves only for me. I think about Jaxon in the hallway last week, the way he laughed at something Benji did with such complete unguarded joy and soft, fuzzy feeling I got from sharing it with him. My heart aches at the thought I might not see any of it, any of them, ever again.

The fear is there. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. But underneath it is determination. I am Skye Winters. I survived Jaxon at his worst. I survived Cassandra. I survived things I never would have believed I could get through until I had to. I will survive this

These men who’ve dared to take me from my mates, my son, my life, have no idea what I’m capable of.

But they’re going to find out.

Cara Anderson Author

Thank you for reading!

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