img Second Chance for the Discarded Luna  /  Chapter 4 Four | 25.00%
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Chapter 4 Four

Word Count: 1134    |    Released on: 27/10/2026

t used to be my garden. The soil was still torn up in ragged patches where the roses had been, dark and raw

not taken my title. Whatever else Marcus stripped from me, I was still Luna of this pack, blessed

in kitchen, telling myself a cup of tea might s

alread

c slipping off one shoulder, baring more skin than any decent wolf would show in a sh

e, sitting right at the curve of h

I had decided to speak

couldn't pretend not to see it clearly. "Yes." Her smile was slow and satisfied, savorin

very still, the way the forest goe

h I wasn't entirely sure whether I

closer, close enough that I could smell him on her skin,

aming at me to, and whatever satisfaction that might have given me in the moment would have cost me everything I still had left to fight with. My father raised me

when I

ound of something heavy

mach, her face twisted in pain, a low moan tearing out of her that didn't sound performed at all. For one

er. I hadn't come

say, though my voice sounded strang

ing his mate in distress even through stone walls. Marcus burst through the kitchen doorway, chest heaving, and his eyes went str

you done,

a single word in my own defense. I watched his eyes move from my face to my hands to the kettle and back again, w

us, I swear on the Moon Goddess her

e same soft voice he used to use on me back when he still thought I was worth being gentle with. She let out another

own voice sounded, how much it sounded like pleading. "I turn

ven looking at me now, all his attention fixed on the woman in his arms. "Everyone

fists at my sides without my permission. "I told

ut," h

impossible choices. I looked down at Lyra, at the careful way her eyes were shut, at the strange stillness in he

ess, nothing but a feeling crawling up the back of my neck, and

n the truth comes out, Marcus, and it will, I want you to remember this moment. I want you to

I stood alone by the cold hearth with the kettle still clutched in my hand, listening to his footsteps fade down the hall

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