Все главы Scar : the rejected Luna: Глава 131 - Глава 140

Paul’s POV:I opened my eyes and found myself surrounded by complete darkness, there was no sight of life, or even any trace that could make me believe that this place has ever experienced any signs of life in it.I don't remember much, and even if I was trying to remember anything, the pain, that was slowly rushing through my bones and blood and increasing with every breath I was taking, making my body weaker and weaker, it was making it difficult for me to remember anything.But still in all that pain, the only thing that I was able to remember was just a name …and a faded face of someone…. someone, whom my mind was calling mate. …Lexie …my mate.And apart from this I remember nothing, who am I, where I was, where I was from and most importantly what I was doing here and why I was in this condition..The situation that I have found myself in, was making me believe that there is no that I would be able to continue my life for much longer, as my throat was becoming dryer and dryer wit

Author's POV:Paul’s body lay deep in the valley, far below the cliff from which he had fallen. He had struck the lake with force, the cold waters swallowing him whole, but he did not drown. A strange energy, a force field infused with Alpha potency, had formed around him moments before impact. It shielded him, suspended him in a bubble just beneath the water’s surface.His body bore the violence of his fall. Bruises had bloomed across his arms and chest, dried blood crusted along a gash on his temple, and his ribs looked unnaturally angled. He had lost consciousness long ago, his breath shallow and steady but barely perceptible. No one searching for him had seen him. Neither the patrols, nor the scouts that his pack had sent. The lake hid him comoley, the magical barrier hiding his presence from both scent and sight.Fifteen days passed.That morning, a golden ripple stirred the water. The force field began to pulse and throb until a warm glow radiated through the lake’s surface.

Paul's POV:The days passed slowly in the healer’s home, like thick syrup sliding down the side of a jar or like a summer afternoon. Each hour felt too long, and yet when night came, I would lie awake wishing I had done more with it, or being productive in trying to remember the things I have been forgetting. Something about being idle made my skin itch.But even after all my tries, I managed to remember nothing. I decided to stay here in this pack, till I get a clue about where I really belong and what my real identity is. And for that I tried to help when I could…splitting firewood, fetching herbs, carrying buckets of water from the well but it never felt like enough. Like I was only pretending to be useful, like a guest overstaying his welcome in a story he didn’t belong in.The girl …Elara, who has saved me, is the healer’s granddaughter. She watched me sometimes when she thought I was not looking. Not with suspicion but something softer. Like curiosity tinted with caution. I coul

Author's POV: The cottage was quiet, the silence deep and undisturbed. Paul lay on the modest straw-stuffed mattress, his breathing even, his brow furrowed in uneasy sleep. Dreams clawed at him. He could see flashes of fire, screams swallowed by the wind, a girl crying his name across a storm. Then came the pounding. A fist struck the door hard, followed by frantic footsteps and a young voice shouting, “Rogues! At the eastern edge! At least three of them… come quickly!” Paul’s eyes snapped open. He was already on his feet before the words had fully registered. No hesitation. No fog of sleep. His body moved like it had been waiting for this moment. Elara burst into the room, her cheeks flushed from running. “They’re attacking the herbal shed. A child got caught out and he didn’t run fast enough—” She didn’t need to finish. Paul was already past her. Bootless, shirtless, barely more than instinct in motion, he ran toward the edge of the trees where snarls and screams echoed

Paul's POV: I woke with the echo of Lexie’s name still scratching at the back of my throat, but the world I opened my eyes to was no longer made of fire and cliffs. There was warmth and the soft glow candlelight illuminating the room. I heard the gentle scrape of a chair leg. “Good,” Elara whispered, her voice low so she wouldn’t startle me. “You're awake.” She was already at my side, changing the dressing on my shoulder with practiced hands. I’d torn it again, probably from pushing too hard the day before. She didn’t scold me. Just worked in silence, her touch careful, respectful. “You keep healing too fast,” she said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but I heard the worry beneath it. “Your skin knits back like it’s racing against time.” “What if I'm really running out of time?” I muttered under my breath, not meaning anything in particular. She glanced up. Our eyes locked, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. Elara had this way of looking at me that made the room go s