The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 26

**Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**
**Chapter 17**

**Blair’s POV**

For several months now, I had been residing on this isolated island, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the world I once knew. The only reminders of civilization were the sporadic supply boats that would arrive, bringing fresh provisions and fleeting human contact. Other than that, I was enveloped in a solitude that was both profound and liberating.

My constant companions were the salty tang of the sea breeze and the occasional seabirds that danced gracefully past my window, their cries echoing in the stillness. Was it lonely? Perhaps, in the early days, I felt the weight of isolation pressing down on me. But as days turned into weeks, I found a peculiar sense of peace in my solitude—a comfort that wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

In those initial nights, I would lie awake, tormented by the memories of the conflict between the two packs. My heart would ache in the darkness, a relentless reminder of the pain that accompanied my past. Just as I would begin to drift into sleep, those haunting recollections would surge forth, wrapping around me like shadows.

But as time flowed on, those memories began to sink deep within me, like stones cast into the ocean, disappearing beneath the surface, never to resurface. I no longer felt the compulsion to look back; the ties to the packs, to Christian, felt like remnants of a distant dream, fading into the recesses of my mind, their colors dulled by time.

This morning, as was my routine, I checked the hurricane alert on my phone. It was a mundane task, but one that brought a sense of security. I secured the windows and doors, then nestled into the cozy confines of my cabin, waiting for the storm to pass.

To my astonishment, a few hours later, the sun broke free from the clouds, illuminating the world in a rare display of warmth. I stepped outside, standing before my cabin and gazing out at the vast, endless blue of the sea. An unfamiliar sensation stirred within me—a sudden yearning to walk along the shore.

This ocean was a mesmerizing shade of blue, unlike anything I had ever witnessed before. It appeared boundless, pure, as if it stretched to the very edge of existence. In that moment, I pondered the notion that perhaps this life, so far removed from the chaos of the world, wasn’t as undesirable as I had once thought.

As I ambled slowly down the beach, the gentle sea breeze caressed my face, invigorating my spirit. Then, in the distance, something unusual caught my eye—a faint silhouette against the golden sands.

The scent wafting from him was unfamiliar, instantly raising my defenses. Yet, the sight of him lying there, barely clinging to life, compelled me to approach without a second thought.

As I drew closer, I realized it was a man, curled up on the sand, drenched to the bone. The area beneath him was stained crimson, a stark contrast against the pale sand. Had the storm cast him ashore during the tumultuous night?

I knelt beside him, preparing to check for a pulse when he stirred, his voice barely a whisper. “Help… me…”

For a fleeting moment, I hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at me. But against my better judgment, I made the decision to bring him back to my home.

He fell into a deep slumber as I tended to his wounds, cleaning them and administering medicine. When he finally opened his eyes, he was not greeted by the sight of the ocean or a sterile hospital ceiling, but rather the humble roof of my dwelling.

He attempted to sit up, but I swiftly pressed him back down. “Don’t move. Your injuries are still fresh. If those wounds reopen, I won’t be saving you a second time.”

His gaze met mine, surprise flickering in his eyes. My tone may not have been warm, but my hands were gentle, careful as I tended to him.

I handed him the medicine, my voice firm. “Here. Take it.”

“What is it?” he asked, scrutinizing the pills with a hint of distrust.

I frowned slightly, my patience wearing thin. “You have a fever, and the wounds are infected. Take it or leave it—your choice.”

He didn’t protest, simply swallowing the pills in one go.

“Thanks for saving me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m Cassian.”

I collected the empty cup from him, my mind racing. “Can you reach out to your family? Have someone come pick you up?”

He shook his head, a shadow passing over his features as he recounted his tale. He had come to visit a nearby pack on a secret mission, only to be ambushed. His warriors had perished, even his beta—everyone was gone.

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