The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 92

**Chapter 8**

**Selene’s POV**

The car rolled to a stop in front of the Pack Estate, its engine purring like a contented cat. Julian Blake, ever the picture of casual confidence, leaned across the seat, his voice smooth as silk.

“Go inside and wait for me, Selene. I’ll take Claire home.”

His words hung in the air, and I found myself hesitating, caught in a moment of indecision.

But then, without uttering a single word, I turned away and made my way toward the imposing front door.

Behind me, the engine roared to life once more, the sound gradually fading into the distance until it was nothing more than a whisper in the night.

I didn’t dare look back.

Stepping inside the house felt like entering a cavern of silence, vast and cold, wrapping around me like a heavy shroud.

I moved as if on autopilot, my limbs heavy and unresponsive, as I began the arduous task of clearing out the remnants of the life Julian and I had once shared.

My fingers brushed against the cool surfaces of jewelry—bracelets, necklaces, hairpins, brooches—each piece a ghost of promises now shattered.

Most of these trinkets had been gifts from Julian, tokens that once held the weight of love and commitment.

I dropped them into a plain wooden box, feeling an eerie detachment wash over me.

Then, my gaze drifted upward to the pale violet dreamcatcher that hung above the bed, a delicate creation that had once brought me solace.

It had been Julian’s idea.

In that first year after our bond had formed, when nightmares clawed at my sleep every night, he had crafted it by hand, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

“With this dreamcatcher, my little wolf will sleep peacefully again.”

I had clung to it, my heart full of faith in its power, in him.

But now, standing on the bed, I reached up and yanked it down, the soft chime of beads hitting the floor resonating like a death knell in the empty room.

I tossed it into the box, a final farewell to the dreams that had once seemed so vibrant.

As I rummaged through the closet, my fingers grazed over a worn leather-bound album, the cover smooth yet cracked with age.

Photographs spilled out like memories longing to be remembered—laughter captured in glossy snapshots: birthdays, festivals, stolen afternoons where I had been blissfully naive, believing we were truly happy.

With a sharp exhale, I closed the album and flung it into the box, refusing to allow myself to linger on the images any longer.

And then, nestled in a velvet case, I found it—the last relic of my delusion.

The Mate Ring.

The very ring he had slipped onto my finger under the silvery glow of the moon, promising with fervor,

“I will protect you, cherish you, until the end of my days.”

My fingers trembled as I lifted it, the metal feeling colder than ice against my skin.

With a heavy heart, I slid the ring off, feeling the bond it represented fraying like an old, worn cloth.

Deep within me, my wolf whimpered, a hollow, keening sound of mourning that echoed through my soul.

We had severed ourselves from our Alpha, and the pain was unbearable.

It hurt worse than any physical wound I had ever endured.

By the time I finished my task, the sky outside had darkened completely, the world beyond the windows shrouded in shadows.

The house felt foreign—stripped bare of everything that once made it a home.

Even the air had shifted, smelling different, duller, and hollow, as if my essence had already begun to fade from these walls.

Moments later, Julian returned.

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