His Rejected Luna

The grand hall of the Silvercrest Pack was packed wall to wall, the air buzzing with excitement. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration, a sacred moment when mates found each other and the pack welcomed its new Luna. Golden chandeliers glowed above, casting warm light over the polished floors, while wolves in their finest attire mingled, laughter and anticipation swirling like smoke through the air.For Evelyn Monroe, this night had been carved into her dreams since she was a child. She had imagined the mate chosen for her by the Moon Goddess—someone strong, someone kind, someone who would see her not only as the Beta’s daughter but as a woman worthy of standing at his side.Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum as she stood in the center of the hall, surrounded by curious eyes. And then—she felt it.The mate bond.It snapped into place with startling clarity, like an invisible thread weaving her soul to another. A shiver ran through her veins, both fierce and elec

Darkness wrapped around Evelyn like a suffocating blanket. She was drifting—caught between consciousness and oblivion. The pain in her body was distant, dulled into a faint ache compared to the crushing weight that pressed against her chest. The rejection still lingered there like a brand, searing her soul with every weak heartbeat.Then came a voice.Low. Steady. Commanding without effort.“…She needs rest.”Something warm pressed gently against her forehead, and for a brief second, the darkness wavered. The fog in her mind began to lift, piece by piece.Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open.The first thing she noticed wasn’t the voice, but the ceiling. It was rough, wooden—completely unfamiliar. Her gaze shifted sluggishly to the sides, registering flickering lanterns casting shadows across the walls, and the faint crackle of firewood burning steadily. The air smelled of pine, smoke, and something else… something distinctly masculine.Her body went rigid. Memories slammed into her all at on

Evelyn ate in silence, the warmth of the tea spreading through her, soothing her aching body. She was too hungry to care that Ronan was watching her with those unreadable amber eyes.The food—fresh bread, dried meat, and roasted potatoes—was simple but filling. It was a stark contrast to the lavish feasts of Silvercrest, where she had dined at long tables under chandeliers, surrounded by pack members who barely acknowledged her existence.Here, in this small wooden cabin, with a lone wolf she barely knew, she felt more at ease than she had in years.She hated that feeling.She hated the unfamiliar sense of safety.Because safety was an illusion.And she had learned the hard way that it could be ripped away in an instant.Ronan hadn’t moved from his spot by the fireplace, but he was still watching her. Observing. Studying.It made her uneasy.She set down the wooden cup and met his gaze. “Are you always this quiet?”His lips twitched slightly, as if amused by her bluntness. “Are you al

Evelyn drifted in and out of consciousness, her body aching from the fight. The warmth surrounding her was unfamiliar—solid, strong. She realized she was being carried.Ronan.His scent, a mix of pine and something darker, filled her senses. She forced her heavy eyelids open and found herself looking up at his sharp, unreadable face. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried her through the trees.She stirred weakly. “I can walk.”His grip didn’t loosen. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”Evelyn hated that he was right, but she hated feeling weak even more.“Put me down,” she muttered.Ronan glanced at her but didn’t stop. “Stubborn.”She tried to argue, but exhaustion dragged her back under before she could say another word.Ronan’s CabinWhen Evelyn woke again, she was in Ronan’s cabin, lying on the same cot as before. Only this time, her wounds had been cleaned and bandaged.She tested her limbs, wincing as pain radiated from her shoulder where Marcus had bitten h

The forest was quiet—too quiet.Evelyn stood still at the edge of the clearing, her dagger gripped tightly in her hand, her breathing slow and steady. The sky above was a dull gray, heavy with clouds, and the scent of rain lingered in the air. But beneath the scent of damp leaves and bark was something far more dangerous—wolves. Not just any wolves. Bounty hunters.“They’re close,” Ronan muttered beside her. His voice was low and calm, but his posture was tense. One hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, the other clenched at his side.Evelyn nodded once, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. Her instincts were prickling with warning. Over the past few days, they’d felt it—something off, something unnatural about the silence that had settled over the rogue lands. No wild animals. No birdsong. Just silence. The kind of silence that comes before death.“You remember the plan?” Ronan asked.She exhaled through her nose. “Draw them out, separate them, hit them where they’re weak