The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 193

**Between the Wings of Twilight Lies the Memory of You**
**by Liren Ava Roen**
**Chapter 193**

I shook my head in confusion, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. “I really don’t know. He mentioned wanting to share his news when he’s standing on the biggest stage. I’ve already given him my word.”

Uncle Julian’s face lit up with pride, his smile broad and infectious. “That’s my boy! Full of ambition, just like I always knew you were. Mark my words, he will win. Those who dare to dream fight the hardest battles.”

I felt a surge of agreement swell within me, nodding with enthusiasm. “Mhmm!”

Yet, as I glanced at Steven, the faint smile that had graced his lips vanished, swiftly replaced by a cold, hard line that drew my attention.

There wasn’t much left to discuss with Uncle Julian. When I tried to broach the subject of last night’s events, he became evasive, his discomfort palpable. I decided to let it go, sensing that the topic was too sensitive for him. My mind was already racing ahead, eager to return home and confront the matter of my mother’s heirlooms, treasures that held memories too precious to ignore.

As we stepped outside, Steven accompanied me, the air thick with an awkward silence that enveloped us. This was typical for us; I was the one who usually filled the silence with chatter, while he offered his usual terse, sarcastic remarks. He was never one for idle conversation, preferring to let silence linger like a heavy fog.

Now, with my lips sealed, the silence felt deafening, almost suffocating.

Just as we approached the exit of the main lobby, Steven’s grip tightened around my arm, pulling me to a halt. I looked up, meeting his strikingly handsome face, his voice low and cool, yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

“Zephyra, keep your distance from Horace. He’s bad news.”

If those words had come from anyone else, I might have felt compelled to explain that Horace had his sights set on someone else entirely.

But this was Steven, and my instinct was to roll my eyes in frustration. I tried to free my arm from his grasp, but he held on firmly, unwavering. “You think everyone is bad news,” I replied, exasperation creeping into my tone. “Steven, I genuinely suggest you consider seeing a psychiatrist. You might be suffering from a persecution complex.”

“I’m not joking,” he countered, his voice flat, devoid of any humor.

“Neither am I,” I shot back defiantly.

A dark, humorless smile twisted on Steven’s lips, a smirk that hinted at something deeper. “I forgot. You’re in love with him. So if he’s ‘bad news’ for you, that would actually be exactly what you want, wouldn’t it?”

I clicked my tongue, fatigue washing over me at his relentless fixation on Horace. I had no desire to engage in this argument.

“You said it, not me. Now please, stop talking badly about him. I really don’t like it.”

Steven’s gaze bore down on me, his deep, dark eyes turning icy, a storm brewing within their depths. I braced myself, half-expecting him to lash out, but instead, he abruptly shifted the topic.

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