The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 56

**TITLE: Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 9**

Blake’s head jerked up, a flicker of hope igniting in his bloodshot eyes, the kind of hope that felt almost foreign after all that had transpired.

“Lena,” he began, his voice trembling with urgency, “I was so blind before—I thought I was merely a means to repay Grandfather’s debt. But now, I see things clearly. I swear, I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to making amends with you.”

His fingers quivered as they grazed the edge of my doorstep, a fragile gesture that felt like a desperate plea. “We’re still young. We can still have more pups—”

Before he could finish, the sound of a slap resonated through the porch, a sharp crack in the stillness that caught me off guard.

“You’re still trampling on everything we once cherished!” My voice trembled, thick with years of repressed rage. “Of all the ways to rebel against your family, why did you have to choose this? Why break me apart? Was it simply because I was the easiest target?”

This Alpha, once so strong and certain, failed to grasp that everything we had was irrevocably shattered. Our love had been dismantled long ago by his own reckless hands, much like the fragile lives of our two daughters. It was far too late for any form of forgiveness; no amount of contrition could ever bridge the gaping chasm that death had carved into our lives.

Tears streamed down his hollowed cheeks, etching paths through the stubble that adorned his face. The great Alpha—once a figure of strength—now rendered mute, a shadow of his former self.

I attempted to muster a smile, but it faltered, crumbling under the weight of my sorrow. Instead, saltwater betrayal cascaded down my cheeks, a testament to the anguish that had become my constant companion.

“If you truly feel remorse, Blake Wilder,” I said, my voice steadier now, “then let me go. Allow our daughters to rest in peace.”

“The bond is already severed,” he retorted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Sign the deal or don’t—I’m never coming back.”

The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the windowpanes, the sound reverberating through the air like a final farewell.

As dawn broke, it revealed an empty porch, devoid of warmth or life. Just the bond-breaking deal lay there, his signature slashed across the bottom like an open wound, a stark reminder of our shattered connection.

Weeks later, when I met Sierra at the Moonbeam Café, the silence that enveloped us felt heavier than the sugar cubes she absentmindedly stirred into her untouched tea.

The updates came slowly, each one a jagged piece of a painful puzzle:

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