The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 50

**Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 3**

For a fleeting moment, Blake’s expression darkened, a shadow flickering across his features before it twisted into a cold, derisive laugh that echoed in the stillness of the room.

“Lena, you’ll stoop to any lie, won’t you? Just because you discovered Hannah’s pregnancy today, you’re weaving this absurd tale?” His words dripped with disdain, each syllable like a dagger aimed at my heart.

With a sudden, forceful motion, he pushed himself off the bed, striding toward the door as if eager to escape the very air between us. Not once did he cast a backward glance, a dismissal that felt like a slap across my face.

Yet, as his fingers brushed against the doorknob, he hesitated, a flicker of something—anger, regret?—passing over his features.

“You’re the one who refuses to share my bed. Don’t run to Grandpa with your sob story about neglect—it only makes me despise you more.” His voice was a chilling whisper as he stepped through the threshold, leaving me in a suffocating silence.

The air in the room felt thick with unspoken words, and I stumbled into the bathroom, my heart racing as I scrubbed my lips raw with toothpaste, desperate to erase the lingering taste of him. How could something that once felt so sweet now taste so bitter?

Once upon a time, Blake and I had been bound by love, a connection that felt as natural as breathing. On my eighteenth birthday, when my wolf had finally awakened, we had discovered each other at the Mate Gathering. I still vividly remember the way he looked at me—his golden eyes shining with joy, his voice like a warm summer breeze wrapping around me.

“Mate. You’re my mate.” Those words had been a promise, a declaration that had filled my heart with hope and belonging.

Those days with Blake had been the sweetest of my life. Even though I had been a part of the Whitemoon Pack for years, the ache of losing my birth family had always lingered, a shadow that kept me from fully embracing my new life—until Blake had come along. Until he had looked at me with that warmth, as golden as the sun, and filled my heart with a love that seemed to burn away every doubt.

In those quiet moments, when the world around us faded into the background, I felt it deep within my soul—I had finally found my true home. The Whitemoon Pack transformed from a mere refuge into the fertile ground where my roots could sink deep, where my story could intertwine with its legacy.

Even now, the memory of those blissful days sends delicate tremors through me, like sunlight dancing on fresh snow—fragile yet dazzling, a reminder of what once was.

For years, he adored me, and in return, I had poured my heart into him. But then, on that fateful day when we turned twenty-two, everything changed. Miles, our Alpha, summoned us before him, his tone grave yet filled with an air of inevitability.

“It’s time you two sealed the bond. Lena, your grandfather saved my life. And fate has already chosen you for Blake. It’s perfect.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, and that night, Blake’s love vanished like smoke dissipating in the wind.

No explanations. No goodbyes. Just an icy void where warmth had once thrived.

A year after our mating ceremony, I found myself pregnant. And Blake? He became a ghost in our home, appearing only to take that woman, Hannah, to bed in the very space that had once been ours.

I screamed, I begged, I demanded answers that never came.

He looked at me as if I were the one who had lost my mind.

“You got what you wanted. You’re Luna. You bore my heirs. What more are you crying about?” His words were like a knife twisting in an already wounded heart.

“Stop playing the victim. You disgust me. Hannah would never be so unreasonable like you.”

With those cruel words, I realized I had to stop asking. I had to convince myself that I could live with the harsh truth that the love between Blake and me had withered away. It was a bitter reality, but it was the only way I could find some semblance of peace in my life.

I redirected my love to our daughters. They became my light, my reason to endure in a world that had turned dark. Just when I thought I had managed to reclaim a piece of control over my life, Hannah and Blake shattered it all, showing no mercy for us.

And now? Now, even my daughters were gone.

The following morning loomed heavy with sorrow, the day of the funeral.

I stood before the Packhouse, clutching my daughters’ favorite teddy bear—a tangible reminder of innocent days filled with laughter and joy. The girls had always fought over this tattered toy when they were just pups, and I could still feel the warmth of their presence in its fabric, as if their laughter and love had infused it with a glow that transcended time, anchoring me to the memories we had shared.

They had been so tiny at birth—two precious pups nestled in my arms, their soft breaths a melody of hope.

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