Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna novel Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Kael’s POV

Ezra’s shin connected with my ribs in a brutal arc, the impact radiating through my torso like wildfire. Perfect. I answered immediately with a crushing right hook to his flank, savoring the way his breath left him in a sharp hiss. This dance of violence was the only language he could

stomach-where every strike spoke louder than empty comfort ever could.

The scars ran deeper than flesh for Ezra. After watching his entire family slaughtered, touch had become a landmine field-one where only the controlled burn of combat or the sterile bite of tattoo needles were safe territories. So we gave him this. The brutal honesty of knuckles and grappling, no pretense of pity.

When he went for my jaw, I saw the opening before his fist left his shoulder. A quick pivot, using his own momentum to slam him onto the mats. The armbar locked in before he could blink. His snarl vibrated through the floor as he tapped out.

I released him instantly, rolling to my feet without offering a hand he’d never accept. Ezra pushed up, his dark eyes glittering with something between frustration and gratitude as we bumped gloved fists-the closest he’d allow to camaraderie.

“Clean technique today,” I remarked, spitting out my mouthguard. The cold water bottle sweat in my palm, condensation dripping onto the mats.

Ezra accepted his own water from Asher with a curt nod. “Need to stay sharp.” His voice was gravel. “That mage coven wasn’t working alone.”

A primal itch crawled up my spine, the kind that usually preceded bloodshed. My wolf stirred in agreement. Because the same thought had

been gnawing at me for days-this was far from over.

Emberclaw Security was our polite fiction-the respectable face we showed the world. The truth was far less civilized. We operated in shadows most never dared to tread-mercenaries with morals, assassins with standards. People assumed we’d sell our blades to the highest bidder, but they were wrong. Our ledger balanced differently: one job to fill the coffers, the next to cleanse our souls.

This last contract had been the former, though the satisfaction of burning that dark mage coven to the ground had been payment enough. Human sacrifices. Blood magic markets. The kind of evil that left stains on your soul just from looking at it. We’d spent weeks embedding ourselves in their ranks, only to discover the rot ran deeper than we could excise in one operation. But we’d severed enough arteries to make

the beast bleed out-for now.

Asher pushed off the ring post, his golden eyes sharp. “Any chatter from Nox’s network?”

“Radio silence,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow as I stepped through the ropes. The quiet should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t.

Ezra’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hands. “This isn’t over.”

The certainty in his voice sent a ripple through the room. Asher met my gaze over Ezra’s head-we both knew what prolonged tension did to him. The tattoos were his anchor, the needle’s bite the only pain he could control.

Asher kept his voice casual. “Studio’s free if you want some ink work done.”

Ezra’s throat worked as he swallowed whatever darkness was eating at him. “Not today.”

Okay, then.

The club doors slammed open before I could propose the pack run, revealing Dexter vibrating with barely-contained rage and Nox looking like he’d been dragged through an emotional wringer. The moment Dexter’s wild green eyes locked onto mine, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

“Talk,” I demanded, already moving toward them.

Dexter’s gaze swept the sparse afternoon crowd before he leaned in, his voice a razor-edged whisper. “Raven’s back… it’s covered in scars. Not

accidents. Not one-time wounds. Someone worked her over systematically-repeatedly.”

The growl tore from my throat before I could stop it. Around me, my pack echoed the sound until the air vibrated with predatory fury. Somewhere across the club, a human turned his head sharply at the unnatural noise.

“Enough.” The command snapped through our mental link like a whip. I watched as each man wrestled his beast back under control-all except Asher, whose expression remained carefully bored. But I saw the way his fingers twitched toward the knives he always carried. The bastard might pretend indifference, but his wolf had clearly marked Raven as pack-adjacent at minimum.

Dexter’s jaw worked like he was chewing glass. “Cecilia pulled her usual bullshit at Jack’s. ‘Accidentally’ dumped a drink on Raven.”

Asher snorted. “Color me shocked.” His tone dripped with disdain for such petty games-the kind that didn’t end with arterial spray.

When Dexter turned his murderous glare on him, Asher just bared his teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. The tension spiked until Dexter forced himself to continue. “I took Raven to the office to change. That’s when I saw-”

“Bullshit,” Asher cut in. “You took her back to peel her clothes off, scars were just a bonus.”

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