The Luna Queen's Rebirth (Ellie and Dominic) novel Chapter 28

Ellie POV

By the time I step onto campus the next morning, I can feel it—the staring. It hits me like a wall.

Eyes tracking me from lockers, from water fountains, from behind stupid iced coffees. Whispers flutter down the hall like confetti someone forgot to sweep.

I tug my bag higher on my shoulder, pretending I don’t notice any of them, but my stomach twists tight. Calm down. There’s no reason they should know anything. Dominic wouldn’t have told anyone—mostly because admitting we were paired would of course bruise his ego, not mine.

He practically picked Vivian anyways. I was just some plaything.

Gods, I hated him.

Still, even if he didn’t say anything… scent changes could travel fast. If the bond was that strong, maybe they could smell it on me. Us. Whatever.

Great. Drama served fresh before first period. And with the school's tradition of the Mate Course coming up? Oh, that’ll be fun. Nothing screams humiliation like being forced to sit through a lecture on “marking etiquette.”

But fine. Whatever. If destiny thinks it’s running my life again, it can choke. I’ll just rip off the bandaid before rumors grow claws. I’ll stand up at lunch, declare I want nothing to do with future-Alpha Dominic “I-think-I’m-everyone’s-destiny” Blackwood, and be free. Easy.

I’m rehearsing the speech in my head—something iconic, something scorched-earth—when a group of girls pass me.

They giggle. At me. Then whisper behind perfectly manicured hands.

Before I can demand to know what their problem is, Sarah barrels toward me like she sprinted the entire hallway.

“Ellie! Oh my gosh—did you see it?”

“Good morning to you, too. And see what?” I ask, already irritated. “The stares? The circus gossip hour? The fact that half the school is acting like I showed up with two heads?”

“No. The video,” she breathes, grabbing my arm with shaky fingers.

Video? The word alone sends a bolt of dread through me.

“What video?” I repeat, because apparently my brain refuses to process anything that isn’t spelled out slowly with finger puppets.

Sarah doesn’t answer. She just unlocks her phone, taps something with speedy thumbs, and thrusts the screen into my hands.

And there it is.

Dominic and Vivian.

On the dance floor. Her arms were around his neck, like she knew it was always meant for her. His hand at her waist. Her forehead brushes his cheek. Camera flashes everywhere.

They look… close. Too close.

The messages in the massive group chat below stab at my eyes:

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