The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 13

**Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 4**

**Blair’s POV**

“Kneel.”

Zayden’s command sliced through the air, sharp and unforgiving, reminiscent of a biting winter wind. It left my dignity in tatters, a mere whisper of what it once was.

In an instant, two massive warriors surged forward, their hands grasping my shoulders with a merciless grip, as if I were nothing more than a captured prey.

I resisted instinctively—my wolf roared within me, refusing to submit—but their strength was overwhelming. They forced me down onto the unforgiving stone floor.

My knees collided violently with the ground, pain radiating through my bones, momentarily blurring my vision as I struggled to remain conscious.

Lysander, with a cruel glint in his eyes, raised the vine whip he had prepared, its sinuous form slicing through the air with an almost predatory shriek. A heartbeat later—

Crack!

Agony exploded across my back like a bolt of lightning. I bit down hard on my lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth, yet I refused to utter a sound.

Inside me, my wolf seethed with fury, a tempest of rebellion, but I clamped down on her with sheer willpower, desperate to maintain my composure.

“Do you admit your mistake?” Lysander’s voice dripped with ice, each word a dagger aimed at my resolve.

“I didn’t do anything wrong…” My voice emerged hoarse and strained, each syllable scraping against my throat like shards of glass.

Crack!

This strike was even worse. The whip tore through the delicate fabric of my dress, searing into my flesh. A warm, wet heat spread across my back—I was bleeding.

I recognized that pain all too well. This was no ordinary whip; it was a silver-threaded wolf whip, crafted specifically to punish those who dared to defy the Alpha.

“Do you admit your mistake?”

“I didn’t…”

Again. Again. Each lash was a calculated blow, meant to shatter not just my body but my very spirit.

Blood mingled with the howls of my wolf, echoing within me, a symphony of anguish. I remained silent, biting down until the taste of copper filled my mouth. My once-white dress was now drenched in crimson, the floor beneath me transformed into a grotesque canvas of red.

“Stop! Please—stop!”

Lexie, the aging maid, fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s going to die! Luna’s going to die if you keep going!”

But my three brothers remained unmoved, their expressions cold and unyielding. They acted as if they couldn’t even hear her cries—as if I were nothing more than an object, stripped of my humanity.

My vision began to fade, the edges of reality crumbling away. All I could hear was Zayden’s mocking voice, “If she won’t admit it, then we’ll beat her until she does.”

The final lash fell, and with it, my consciousness slipped away. Darkness enveloped me, swallowing me whole.

The last image etched in my mind was of my blood pooling on the ground, and the cold, unfeeling eyes of the three men who had once been my family.

They were once my brothers, my protectors, my blood. Now? They were the very ones wielding the blade against me.

For three long days, I was confined to a room, utterly alone, with no visitors and no one to bring me even a drop of water.

My wounds festered, the silver threads burning beneath my skin like a relentless fire. I curled up on the bed, a wounded animal clinging to life by a fragile thread.

And just next door? A world that felt foreign and distant.

Carrie’s voice wafted through the wall, soft and sweet, like a lullaby. My brothers’ voices responded, comforting her, their laughter—a low, rich sound—echoed through the thin barrier. Each note struck deep, flaying my heart raw.

“Carrie, take your medicine.”

“Nooo, it’s so bitter…”

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