The Rejected Luna Returns Chapter 02

The Rejected Luna Returns Chapter 02

“What’s this?”

Isla picked up a braided bracelet from beside the counter.

It had an army-green cord clasp stained with dried blood, and a tiny silver bullet casing dangled from it.

I lifted my gaze and recognized it—the “protection charm” I’d given Adrian all those years ago.

Back then, he wasn’t yet a decorated Alpha warrior with shiny insignia on his shoulders; he was just a teenager, abandoned at the edges of the pack territory, left to survive on his own after his Alpha father’s corruption scandal.

I’d found him by the lake on a winter night.

Battered and bruised, he’d curled up in a snowdrift before suddenly reaching out to grab the hem of my pants.

Against my mother and brother’s objections, I’d brought him back to the pack, paid a pack healer with my allowance, and pulled him back from the brink of death.

Sixteen-year-old Adrian had stayed in the Darkstone Pack ever since, becoming my loyal shadow.

When I’d snuck out of school by climbing over the wall, he’d been there to break my fall.

When I’d been punished to stand in the corridor, he’d silently kept me company until midnight.

When I’d been bullied, he’d been the first to step up—even if it meant getting pummeled until he was black and blue.

Later, when young over first bloomed between us, we’d hidden in the lavender bushes in the pack house garden to kiss, laughing like two kids who’d stolen candy.

Until the year he turned nineteen, when he’d determined to join in the harshest pack border unit.

“Hazel, wait for me.”

“When I’ve earned my merits and restored my father’s honor, I’ll come back and make you my Luna—proudly.”

He’d kissed my hair over and over, “I’ll return. I promise, and you’re my only mate for life.”

I’d stayed up all night crying and baking his favorite chocolate chip cookies all night, then slipped this bracelet into his duffel bag.

My mother and Mike had never liked him, but they’d given in to my tears.

In the end, they’d used the Darkstone Pack’s connections to smooth the path for his early career.

Over two years, Adrian’s name had started appearing in military reports.

He’d brought back a Third-Class Merit from the pack borders, then a Second-Class Merit—one news after another of his rapid promotion by the Alpha King himself.

The day he was transferred back to the Werewolf Realm, my hands had shaken with joy.

But on that same day, the truth about my origins came to light.

I wasn’t the Alpha’s daughter of the Darkstone Pack.

I was just a child who’d been deliberately swapped by a pack house maid—my biological parents worked in a meat processing plant.

They were omegas.

The day the real Alpha’s daughter, Eden, was brought back to the pack, my mother had taken my hand and promised, “Even if Eden’s home now, you’re still my daughter.”

Mike had ruffled my hair, smiling as always,

“It just means one more person in the pack house, Hazel. Nothing will change.”

Adrian hadn’t even reported to the Alpha King first—he’d rushed to find me, pulling me tightly into his arms, “I can protect you now.”

“Even if your pack, your Alpha parents and brother don’t want you, I do.”

My anxious heart had finally settled.

Out of guilt and a desire to make up for, I’d started putting Eden first in everything.

I’d taken her shopping, taught her Luna etiquette, let her pick first from all the good things—afraid of making her feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Eden had always linked arms with me and called me “Hazel” sweetly, her eyes crinkling into crescents.

Back then, I’d been truly happy, thinking there was no better family or lover in the world.

Later, Adrian and I had started bringing Eden along on our dates.

At first, Adrian had protested fiercely, saying Eden was ruining our time alone;

Eden had also turned red with anger, accusing Adrian of having bad intentions and trying to take advantage of me.

I’d mediated between them, barely keeping the peace on the surface.

Slowly, before I knew it, Adrian had started remembering Eden’s preferences, her cycle, her clothing size—and Eden had always pestered me to tell her stories about Adrian’s childhood.

Until that car accident on Christmas Eve.

When the car skidded and crashed into the guardrail, I’d watched helplessly as Adrian had twisted his body to shield Eden in his arms first.

My forehead had slammed into the back of the front seat, blood streaming down my eyelashes.

In the pack hospital, he’d held my hand and explained,

“Hazel, I mistook Eden for you in the moment. I’m sorry.”

I’d said nothing, my heart sinking into an ice pit—a deep, cold certainty settled in me that something fundamental had broken.

The day my stitches were removed, I’d checked out of the hospital early.

In the lavender bushes of the pack house garden, I’d seen two overlapping figures.

Adrian’s fingers had been tangled in Eden’s hair, lost in a kiss that was both deep and tender.