Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Once Finn was gone with Gavin, I stayed put, still standing by the counter.

“Aurora.” Ronan’s voice cut through the quiet. Familiar. Low. It dragged up feelings I thought I’d buried years ago.

“You doing okay? All these years?”

I stared at my coffee—barely touched, still warm. I set it down carefully.

“Can’t complain. You?”

I kept my voice neutral, even though nothing about this felt neutral.

Heavy silence dropped over us like a weight.

Then Ronan turned and headed up the narrow spiral staircase behind Milo, leaving me standing there alone.

The background music switched—cello faded out, replaced by something softer. Piano, maybe. It filled the silence, almost covering the knot tightening in my chest.

Milo wasn’t your average tattoo guy.

He was known worldwide—months-long waitlist, only two slots a day, every piece custom and hand-drawn.

And somehow, out of all the days, Ronan and I both ended up here. Today.

I wandered toward the gallery wall, scanning the framed photos of his work. Bold lines. Delicate shading. Each one felt like it belonged in a museum.

Then one image stopped me cold.

A photo of red lips tattooed on the inside of someone’s thigh.

The shot showed a guy sitting on the floor, one knee bent, wearing a robe that had slipped open. Black boxer briefs underneath.

A faint lip print smudged on the fabric.

The tattoo itself was flawless—clean lines, bold color, placed right where no one else would see it unless they were close.

It was the kind of mark you left when you wanted someone to remember you.

“Miss Blake.” Milo’s voice yanked me back. “You’re up.”

I turned just as Ronan came back down the stairs. His shirt was buttoned to the collar now. His jaw was tight. His face gave nothing away.

“Already?” I said, caught off guard.

“Changed his mind mid-session,” Milo said, like it was no big deal.

“Happens sometimes. Head on up.”

Ronan stopped at the bottom step, one hand jammed in his pocket. He didn’t move. Just watched me.

Our eyes locked.

For half a second, I was back there—his bedroom, his body next to mine, the first time I’d noticed that tattoo on his thigh.

The one he never talked about.

The wall clock ticked. I grabbed my bag and started up the stairs.

As I passed him, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His watch pressed cold into my skin.

“Aurora,” he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges.

“You really gonna keep pretending we don’t know each other?”

I didn’t yank my arm away. Just looked at him, kept my voice steady.

“Pretending we’re strangers is the nicest thing I can do for you.”

His grip loosened. He let go, rubbing his fingers together like he was trying to erase the contact.

“Not really. Ronan’s skin just doesn’t hold ink well,” Milo said bluntly. “Honestly, working on him’s a nightmare.”

I stayed quiet.

I knew about Ronan’s skin.

During our two years, he hated when I left marks—scratches, bites, anything. Said it bothered him.

But Elise’s name was still there, bold across his chest. And her lips were still inked on his thigh, untouched.

The needle hit my skin. I flinched at the sting.

Milo broke the silence. “What’s the story with those?”

I paused, then laughed softly. “Since when do tattoo artists play therapist?”

To everyone else, Ronan had it all together.

Strong Alpha. Loyal mate. Perfect family.

“I met Ronan after he was already with Elise,” Milo said, his tone careful but curious.

“She looks a lot like you, by the way.”

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held it up. “You mind?”

He shook his head.

I lit one, took a slow drag, and said it.

“I’m Ronan’s ex-mate.”