The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 16

**Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 7**

**Blair’s POV**

As I slowly pried my eyes open, a sharp, sterile scent assaulted my senses, cutting through the fog of confusion. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor above me punctuated the stillness, each sound echoing like a countdown: “Beep… Beep… Beep…” It took a moment for my mind to catch up with reality, to process that I was, in fact, lying in a hospital bed. A dull ache radiated through every inch of my body, but the most intense pain seemed to be centered in my chest, as if someone had taken a heavy club and struck me down.

“You’re awake?” A nurse entered the room, her voice soothing, yet tinged with concern. “You’ve sustained some serious injuries—three broken ribs, to be precise. You’ll need someone from your family to look after you. Would you like me to help you call them?”

She extended a phone toward me, and I hesitated, my hand trembling as I reached for it. The screen flickered to life, revealing a barrage of unread messages, all from Carrie.

[Christian peeled an apple for me—it’s so sweet.]

[Lysander bought me a new dress. He said red looks best on me.]

[Orion and Zayden stayed with me all day for checkups. They were so worried about me.]

[It’s been two days. One little “I’m dizzy,” and they’re all running around me. No one asked where you went. A thief will always have to repay what she stole.]

[Blair, it’s pathetic—you don’t have a single person who truly loves you. If I were you, I’d be dead by now.]

As I stared at those words, my heart sank deeper into despair. My fingers curled tightly around the phone, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

“I don’t have family,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper as I handed the phone back to the nurse. “Just me.”

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to offer some words of comfort, but all that escaped her lips was a resigned sigh. She exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Outside the window, the ground was carpeted with sycamore leaves, their vibrant colors muted by the somber atmosphere inside. I focused on the IV drip, watching each drop fall slowly, like the tears I had shed over the years—each one a fragment of love lost, a memory discarded.

Five long days passed before I finally mustered the strength to check out of the hospital on my own terms.

As I pushed open the door to the pack house, a cacophony of laughter and chatter enveloped me, a stark contrast to the silence I had grown accustomed to.

In the living room, I spotted Christian slicing oranges for Carrie, the bright fruit glistening under the light. The three brothers were huddled together, engaged in some spirited conversation. But the moment they heard the door creak open, their lively banter ceased, and an eerie silence fell over the room.

“Where have you been?” Lysander’s frown deepened, his voice laced with disappointment. “Why haven’t you been home?”

I chose not to respond, instead brushing past them and making my way upstairs.

Behind me, Zayden’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “She’s throwing another tantrum.”

Once inside my bedroom, I shut the door with a soft click, sliding down against it until I was sitting on the floor. The pain in my ribs flared again, sharp and biting, but it paled in comparison to the deeper ache that resided in my chest.

A servant brought up dinner, but the sight of the food made my stomach churn, and I couldn’t bring myself to eat a single bite.

Later that night, my phone buzzed to life once more.

Lysander lunged at me, his fingers wrapping around my throat with a grip so tight that it stole my breath away.

“When did you become so cruel? Carrie’s dying—she barely has any time left—and you still won’t let her be?!”

My head was forced back, my mouth opening in a desperate gasp for air. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, but amidst the suffocating grip, a bitter laugh escaped my lips, cold and mocking.

How utterly absurd.

First of all, who could even verify if that “terminal illness” was genuine? In the days that had passed, they had summoned the finest healers from every corner of the globe, trying every groundbreaking treatment and exorbitantly priced miracle drug.

If she were truly on the brink of death, surely she would have been cured by now.

No—this was merely a convenient excuse, a tidy little cover for why they had chosen to forgive her for fleeing before the wedding.

I kept these thoughts to myself, knowing that voicing them would only escalate their anger.

“Get her in the car!” Christian barked, his voice resolute. “I don’t care what it takes—she’s bringing Carrie back.”

They seized me like a criminal, dragging me out without allowing a single word of explanation to escape my lips.

And just like that, the car roared to life, speeding off towards the cliff, my heart racing with a mix of dread and anticipation.