Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Raven’s POV

Hank’s gruff voice cracked through the kitchen window like a starting pistol. “Order’s ready!”

I practically vaulted off the stool where I’d been rolling silverware into tight napkin bundles. Even the ten-mile run at dawn hadn’t burned off the restless energy coiling beneath my skin. Shifting would’ve helped-would’ve let me outrun the constant prickle of awareness that any second, one of The Reapers might walk through that door and see right through me.

The plates were almost too hot against my palms as I balanced them toward the elderly couple in the corner booth. Early lunch crowd meant mostly regulars-the ones who liked their coffee strong and their gossip fresh.

“Here we go, Jonathan,” I said, sliding the patty melt across the worn Formica. The old man’s bowtie today was navy with tiny white polka dots, perfectly pressed as always.

“Much obliged, sweetheart.” His smile carved deeper grooves into his weathered face.

I turned to his wife. “And your breakfast burrito, Marian.”

“Absolute angel,” she beamed up at me, the same way she had every Tuesday for the past two months.

“Need any refills?” The question was automatic, part of the script we’d fallen into.

Marian tilted her head toward their glasses-his sweet tea barely touched, her lemon water still half-full. “Think we’re set for now, don’t you, Jon?”

The way he looked at her made something ache behind my ribs. Sixty-odd years together, according to their stories, and he still gazed at her like

she’d personally strung the stars for him.

“Perfect as always, darling,” he murmured, patting her liver-spotted hand.

I forced a smile. “Just holler if you change your minds.”

Turning away, I clenched my jaw against the hollow feeling spreading through my chest. That kind of certainty-of being known completely and loved anyway-was as foreign to me as shifting in broad daylight.

The coffee pot became my sudden focus, its weight solid in my grip. Better to drown the longing in caffeine and busywork than to examine it.

The rhythmic clink of silverware against napkins had lulled me into something resembling calm-until the bell above the door shattered the illusion. My head snapped up, server’s smile already plastered in place before my brain registered who’d walked in.

Dexter swaggered through first, water still gleaming in his tousled blond hair like he’d rolled straight from the shower to my shift. The leather jacket clinging to his shoulders did unfair things to his silhouette, and my traitorous pulse kicked up a notch before I could school it. Behind him, Nox moved with that quiet precision of his, the morning light catching on his glasses as he scanned the diner. The shadow of stubble along his jawline made my fingers itch to trace it.

My wolf immediately lost her damn mind, throwing herself against my ribs like an overexcited puppy. I mentally shoved her down. Now was

not the time.

“Sweetheart,” Dexter drawled, leaning against the counter with practiced ease. “Tell me you’ve been counting the minutes since we last parted.”

I arched a brow. “You mean when you left here drunk at 2 AM?”

Nox muffled a laugh into his fist, shoulders shaking. The way his flannel stretched across his back as he moved sent a completely different kind

of heat through me.

Dexter pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Every second apart is a dagger to my heart.” His smirk widened as he took in my rolled eyes. “Admit it, you dreamed of me.”

“Nightmare, more like,” I shot back, but the retort lacked bite. The scent of soap and something uniquely Dexter-whiskey and winter citrus-was doing things to my concentration.

Nox finally stepped forward, ignored his partner in crime and took a seat at the booth in the far corner, pulling out his laptop. the hint of a smile still playing at his lips. Up close, I could see the flecks of silver in his gray eyes, the way his calloused fingers tapped an absent rhythm against his thigh. The quiet intensity of his gaze made my skin prickle with awareness.

Between the two of them, my wolf was practically doing backflips. And I was this close to strangling her.

Seizing the opportunity to escape Dexter’s teasing, I snatched up a menu and crossed to Nox. “For you,” I said, sliding it across the counter.

His fingers brushed mine as he pushed it back. “Don’t need it. Got the whole thing up here.” He tapped his temple with a faint smile.

My eyebrows shot up. Jack’s menu was the size of a novella. “That’s some memory.”

“Virgin piña colada,” he said, voice dropping to that quiet rasp that did things to my pulse.

A grin tugged at my lips. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“Glad we agree on something,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to catch.

Menu in hand, I turned toward the kitchen-only to freeze as the door chimed again. Three women swept in like a storm front, their perfume clashing violently with the diner’s usual scents of grease and coffee. I recognized them instantly-the kind of regulars who left lipstick stains on glasses and venom in their wake.

Before I could offer menus, the redhead at the front let out a shriek that made my teeth, ache. “Dexter! You bastard!” Her pout looked practiced. “Two months gone and not a single text?”

Dexter’s spine stiffened like he’d been tased. “Cecilia.” His greeting landed with all the warmth of a tax audit. “Didn’t know you still came here.”

The way his knuckles whitened around his coffee cup told me everything-this was a mistake he’d rather forget. My wolf bristled, a possessive snarl building in my chest before I could choke it down.

Nope. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

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