The Luna Queen's Rebirth (Ellie and Dominic) novel Chapter 30

Ellie POV

By the time evening rolls around, my brain feels like it’s been wrung out like a rag. School had been a circus—whispers, stares, people pretending they weren’t looking directly at my neck as if a glowing bond mark might suddenly appear. That’s not how that works but it sure felt like it.

Most people seemed to avoid me. Whether it was out of guilt or another order from Dominic I could never know.

I sit cross-legged on my bed, phone glowing in my hands, finishing the message I’ve rewritten at least four times.

Lucas, I’m sorry I ditched you the other night at the dance. I swear it wasn’t intentional. Everything just… went sideways.

His reply comes almost instantly:

Sideways? Ellie, you’ve been the entire school’s conversation today. Good thing I went with you — Ryan would’ve fainted from the attention.

I snort, because he’s right. A weaker wolf would’ve keeled over dramatically.

My eyes wander across the room, landing on… ugh.

The old posters.

Dominic in various stages of teenage-werewolf-athlete glory, all confident smirks and annoyingly good hair.

Past me had terrible taste in wall décor.

“Pathetic,” I mutter. “What was I even thinking?”

Before I can peel one down, a knock hits my door.

I freeze.

Three soft knocks. Mother only does two. My brow falls, instantly annoyed at knowing who it was.

“Come in,” I call, bracing myself.

The door cracks open, and in steps Vivian.

She looks… off. Sure, I’ve casted her out lately, but she seems too quiet. Composed in that way, where it’s actually the opposite. Her hands twist in the hem of her sweater, her smile pressed too tightly in place.

“Ellie,” she says softly. “We need to talk. Is it true?”

I sit up straighter, forcing my voice calm. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific. If you mean my score on the science exam—”

“You and Dominic,” She huffs.

I tilt my head. “Yeah. It’s true.” Though I wish it wasn’t.

Her lashes flutter. Hurt trembles at the corners of her mouth, or what she wants me to read as hurt. “But you told me… you said you didn’t like him, or have anyone.”

“I don’t,” I say quickly. “Not by choice. I never wanted the pairing. I told Dominic to reject it.”

For a half-second, she looks like herself, the real Vivian I know to be real. Sharp, calculating, furious. Then her sweetness-mask slams back into place, too sugary to be real.

“You lied to me,” she whispers, voice trembling just enough to be dramatic, not enough to be genuine. “You hid your bond just so I’d look like an idiot in front of everyone! You gave me your blessing, Ellie. And now you—”

“Stop.” My tone slices clean through her theatrics.

She blinks, startled.

“I didn’t hide anything. I didn’t choose anything. I didn’t want Dominic, or the bond, or any of this drama.” My breath shakes, but my voice doesn’t. Not like it used to. “You’re yelling at the wrong person.”

Vivian’s eyes flash — real jealousy, real venom — then soften into a sweet, wounded expression so quickly it gives me whiplash.

In the past, that would’ve worked. I would’ve folded, apologized, tried to smooth the tension like it was my job.

But that Ellie is gone.

“Get over it,” I say, cold and steady. “And if you want to scream at someone, scream at Dominic. Pick a fight with him, not me.”

A quiet, almost mean edge curls into my voice as I add, “At least he won’t hit you back.”

Vivian’s breath catches. Her mask cracks again, just a hairline fracture, but enough to see the truth underneath.

Before she can rebuild it, Mom’s voice calls from downstairs,

“Girls! Dinner!”

Perfect timing.

I stand, brushing past Vivian without flinching. For once, she doesn’t follow.

And boy, did that Dinner feel like sitting inside a pressure cooker. A silent, boiling one.

Vivian finally came downstairs, sitting across from me, stabbing her green beans with the dramatic flair of someone auditioning for a tragedy. I keep my eyes glued to my plate because if I look at her for even a second, I might stab something too.

Mom and my stepfather exchange looks every few seconds, confused and waiting for someone—probably me—to hand them the script for whatever scene they think they’re in.

Finally, my stepfather clears his throat.

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