The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 85

**Between Then and Now by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 1**

**Selene’s POV**

As I cradled the scroll in my hands, its warmth still lingered, a remnant of the urgency that had brought it to me. The wax seal, emblazoned with the insignia of the Council, glimmered subtly in the soft hues of the morning light, a stark reminder of the weight of what I was about to undertake.

“Miss Hartwell,” Elder Lee intoned, his voice reverberating with a respectful gravity as he bowed his head slightly, “the mate-severance scroll has been delivered to Alpha Blake’s estate. The seal remains unbroken. It is ready for your command.”

I tightened my fingers around the parchment, feeling its rigid texture press against my trembling skin, a physical manifestation of the turmoil roiling within me.

“Thank you, Elder Lee,” I replied, my voice trembling but steadying as I forced a sense of calm into my tone.

“That will be all,” I added, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.

He bowed once more before retreating into the embrace of the woods, leaving me standing alone at the threshold of the Blake manor—a gilded cage that had ensnared my spirit for the past three years.

The mark on my neck pulsed faintly beneath the scarf I wore, a ghostly reminder of a bond that had once felt sacred, now transformed into a burden that weighed heavily on my heart.

Inside me, my wolf stirred restlessly, a creature of instinct and emotion, echoing my inner conflict.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” she questioned, her voice laced with doubt.

“More than certain,” I replied, my conviction unwavering.

“Even if it means defying the laws of the pack?”

“The laws broke me before I ever had the chance to break them,” I countered, my heart racing with the finality of my decision.

I had no time to engage in a debate with my own soul—not today, not when the stakes were so high.

With a deep breath, I stepped back into the manor, the sound of my boots ringing hollowly against the polished stone floors that gleamed like ice under the morning sun. Each surface was immaculate, cold, untouched by the warmth of life or love.

Just as I approached the main hall, the front door swung open with a creak that echoed in the silence.

His scent enveloped me first—woodsmoke, leather, and that unmistakable spice of power that clung to him like a second skin.

My body reacted instinctively, tensing as if drawn toward him, as if he were a beacon of safety in a storm of chaos.

But I anchored myself in place, refusing to move.

Julian Blake stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, his presence commanding the space around him. His silver eyes met mine, softening in a way that made my heart ache.

“Selene,” he said, his voice a rich blend of velvet and authority. “I apologize. The Alpha Summit in Black Hollow ran longer than anticipated. I didn’t mean to disappear on you.”

He stepped forward, the distance between us closing, and his hand—calloused yet warm—reached toward my stomach, the place where a heartbeat once danced beneath my skin.

“How has the pup been treating his mother?” he asked, his tone shifting to something tender, almost intimate.

The gentleness of his voice threatened to unravel me.

“Julian,” I replied, my tone flat, devoid of the warmth that once colored our exchanges.

He froze, taken aback.

I never used his first name. It was always “Alpha” when I was angry, or “old wolf” when I teased him, or silence when I longed for him the most.

He remained still, caught in a moment that felt heavy with unspoken words.

Good.

Before he could utter another syllable, I withdrew the scroll from my coat, flipping it to reveal the last page, covering the text with my palm as if it were a fragile secret.

I extended it toward him, my heart pounding with a mixture of dread and anticipation.

“You once promised that when our pup was born, you would give me a gift,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

“I’ve made my decision on what I want.”

“Sign this for me.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, yet he didn’t question my request. He didn’t even spare a glance at the parchment.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew the ceremonial dagger from his belt, the steel glinting ominously in the light. With a swift motion, he sliced a clean line across his palm, pressing his bleeding hand against the scroll to seal it with blood.

Blood for blood.

Bond for bond.

My stomach twisted painfully at the sight, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the moment.

“Are you not even going to read it?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

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