All Chapters of The Rejected Luna ( his love, her obsession): Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

chapter 21I learnt early that silence keeps you alive . in the pleasure house , silence was currency.we learned when to moan, when to speak , when to gesture and act. all men did not come to us for Truth. they came to forget it . I was good at helping them forget. By the time the Alpha king sent for me, I had already survived more nights than I could count. I had learned how to separate my body from my thoughts, how to let men touch my skin without ever touching me. It was the only way to survive a place like this. Still, when his name reached the halls, the pleasure house went quiet. The king Alpha of the black bridge did not visit often. When he did, it was never announced with celebration. No laughter followed his arrival. No bargaining. No choice. You did not choose the king. The king chose you. The matron’s fingers tightened painfully around my arm when she came for me. “You,” she said, already pulling me forward. “Prepare yourself.” Her voice held no warmth. N

Chapter 23That night the Alpha king sent for me again, , there was a quite pull in my chest, the kind that makes your breath slower and your thoughts sharper. Black Ridge always felt alive after dark, but tonight the corridors seemed to narrow, as if guiding me toward him whether I wanted it or not. I walked without hurry. I had learned that rushing made you look owned. Calm made me look chosen. His chambers smelled of fire and iron. The hearth burned low, throwing soft light across stone walls and old scars carved into them. Maps lay open on the table, edges weighed down with steel. Bloodmoon’s lands were marked in red. he stood with his back to me, broad and still, like nothing in this world could move him unless he allow it. come closer , he said. i did, my legs betrayed me. He spoke about war as if it were weather, avoidable. Necessary, he mentioned Alpha Damon without fear ,no anger, Just certainty. I listened, my hands loose at my sides, my face calm even as memo

Chapter 25 I woke before the sun. Not because I rested well. Because I didn’t. The image of torchlight in the courtyard had followed me into sleep. The woman’s smile. The pale-haired man’s watchful eyes. The way Roshan had stood among them, composed as always. Unreachable. I dressed quickly and tied my hair back with more force than necessary. If visitors were here, the pack would rise early. Appear strong and United. I would not be the weak link. The training ground was wrapped in soft gray light when I arrived. Mist clung low to the earth, turning the field into something almost unreal. For a moment, I wished I could disappear into it. Then I saw him. Roshan was already there. Of course he was. He stood near the center of the field, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the eastern horizon. His posture was perfect. Controlled. Untouched by last night. Or so it seemed. I slowed my steps. He sensed me before I spoke. “You’re late,” he said evenly. I wasn’t. Bu

Chapter 27 I could not breathe inside those walls. The pack house felt smaller at night. The corridors stretched long and narrow, shadows clinging to the corners like secrets waiting to be whispered. Every door I passed felt like it was listening. Every torch flame flickered as if it knew something I did not. I told myself I only needed air. Nothing more. The hall was quiet when I slipped out of my room, my steps were slow and careful. The floorboards groaned beneath my weight, and I paused at every sound, heart thudding too loud in my chest. I did not know where I was going. Only that I could not stay still. I walked deeper into the southern wing a part of the pack house I rarely visited. The lights grew fewer there. And the air cold. A draft brushed across my skin. At the end of the corridor, a narrow door stood slightly open. I hesitated. Then I pushed it. Cool night air rushed against me. Beyond the doorway lay a garden I had never seen before. It was hidden behind

Chapter 29 The days begin to blur after that. Morning comes, Work begins, Night falls. And every day I feel the same quiet fear sitting inside my chest. Lady Ophelia does not shout at me. She does not strike me or accuse me of anything. To everyone else in the house, she is the perfect Alpha’s wife. Soft voice. Gentle smile. Graceful steps. But when no one is looking, her eyes find me. And in that look there is always the same warning. I know. I know what you saw. My work becomes heavier with each passing day. I wake before the other servants. I sleep long after the last lamp goes out in the halls. Every mistake, even the smallest one, becomes my fault. If a tray is late, it is my fault. If the wine is warm, it is my fault. If the flowers in the hall begin to fade, somehow it is also my fault. I accept it quietly. Because the truth is simple. I am afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid of what she might do if she believes I might speak. But another feeling has begun to grow