All Chapters of The Rejected Luna's Second Chance: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Borgov's POV This valley feels like hell.The clang of metal fills the air, steel crashing against steel. Wolves twist and claw, their dark forms silhouetted against the fiery sky, while rogues swarm over the ridge like ants from a disturbed hill.I swing my sword—the one with the worn leather grip, the blade I've carried for years—and a man goes down. My left hand grips the pistol, still warm from my last shot. Another blade hangs at my waist, waiting for action.Around me, Gracia's warriors stand firm, sturdy men with steady eyes. My own fighters are holding the left flank, but the line is wavering. Bodies are piling up. The mud is soaked in red.I'm forty-one now. I've witnessed battles and buried friends. But I've never seen hell like this.Then I see him.He’s on the outskirts of the chaos, sword raised, frozen mid-step. Even from a hundred yards away, through the smoke and turmoil, I recognize tho

Borgov's POV I can't recall running at all.One moment, I was standing outside the door, and suddenly I was on my knees next to her. The floor felt sticky and warm beneath me. I lifted her head onto my lap, and her skin felt so cold."Grandmother."She lay there naked, her clothes torn and scattered around like fallen leaves. Her arms, chest, and stomach were covered in cuts—deep gashes from a knife. There were so many I couldn’t even begin to count them, and her face was a mess, split open from cheek to forehead.Blood pooled beneath her, spreading further."Grandmother, please. Open your eyes."She was breathing, but it was shallow and wet, a rattling sound coming from her throat."Who did this?" My voice shook. "Who?"Her lips moved, but no words came out—just blood."Please. Please, Grandmother. Tell me."For a brief moment, her eyes met mine, and she seemed lucid. Then s

Borgov's POV Days turned into weeks, and weeks rolled into months.We kept pushing forward. The transport business had no idea of our inner emptiness. The trucks had to be filled and the goods delivered. Customers expected smiles, too.So, we moved and smiled.But when night fell, we sat in silence. Emilio with his chair, me on the floor, the fire flickering low. We didn’t talk about it. The knife. The blood. Aldric’s expression when he found us.We just sat there.One afternoon, we were loading crates near the market. A truck had broken down, so we were handling things on our own. The sweat, the dust, the scent of aged wood.Then a man strolled by, loud and confident, chatting with a companion.“Did you hear? The Alpha of Silvermoon just killed his own brother. Right at the pack house.”I froze. Emilio halted with the crate he was lifting.“Castor? The Bloodmoon A

Borgov's POV We close the gap. Twenty feet. Ten. Five. It’s just us now—the mud, the blood, the steel gripped tightly in our hands. The battle swirls around us, but I’m deaf to it, blind to anything but him.Emilio comes to a halt."It’s been ages, Brother."His voice hasn’t changed. Still rough, still low—the same voice that called my name a thousand times.I raise my sword. He does the same.Then we charge.The first clash sounds like thunder. Steel screeches against steel. Sparks fly. Shockwaves pulse up my arms. He’s as strong as ever, but I’ve got two decades of training under my belt.He pushes against my blade, and I hold firm."You look old," he remarks."You look worse," I shoot back.He abruptly changes tactics, swinging low. I leap over his blade, land hard, and press him back. He regains his footing, spins, and strikes again. I parry

Selena's POV The night is biting cold.Torches light up the cemetery, their flames dancing in the wind. The graves are new—two dark mounds alongside an older headstone. Christina.I stand next to Damian, my hand held firmly in his. The babies are quiet. Maybe they sense what's happened.Maya is to my other side, with Rina pressed against her, crying softly into her shoulder. She hasn’t stopped since she found out the news. Borgov was the first who didn’t shy away from her questions. The first who treated her like a warrior, not just a child.“He told me I had good form,” Rina whispers. “He said I could be a warrior someday.”Maya brushes her hair back gently. “He was right.”Around us, the pack has assembled. Warriors stand in formation, heads bowed. They might not have known the other man, but they refer to him as the stranger. Yet for Borgov, he was family. That mat