All Chapters of The Luna He Rejected Is The Millennium Wolf : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sienna's POV "Try me." The words left my mouth with a weight I didn't recognize, sounding completely different from my own voice as they emerged lower, vibrating with a metallic edge that seemed to catch right in the dry air of the arena. My tongue felt heavy while the taste of that copper-honey blood coated the back of my throat, ensuring I didn't feel like the girl who had been crying in the silk sheets an hour ago. The warrior across from me stopped laughing. He was a Gamma, his frame thick with the kind of muscle that only comes from decades of guarding the border, and as he shifted his weight to grind his boots into the sand, he looked at me and then at the sword Duke had handed me before I walked out here. "Let me be direct with you, human," the warrior said, tightening his grip on his own blade until the leather wrap creaked under his palm. "I will be soft on you, because I don't want to damage the skin before the Alpha gets his use out of you." I didn't blink, feeling the

Sienna's POV The night felt like a fever as cold air bit at my skin. A strange, liquid heat rose from my marrow to drench me in sweat that turned icy the moment it touched the wind. I was trapped in that jagged space between sleep and the dark, because every time I closed my eyes, the arena reconstructed itself to let me hear the roar and smell the copper. “Sienna.” The voice was a familiar blade—cold and arrogant—causing my eyes to snap open. I wasn't in the Duke’s stone fortress or lying in the sand with my throat exposed to the sky, finding myself instead on a bed of damp pine needles in the heart of a suffocating forest. Above me, the canopy blotted out the stars to leave only fragments of a bruised purple sky. Smoke curled through the trees, smelling of burnt sage and the sharp, ancient musk of a predator. I tried to sit up, but a violent surge of pain tore through my ribs to pin me back down, leaving me to gasp as the air caught in a throat that felt like it had been scraped

Sienna’s POV The air in the chamber was dead. It didn't just feel cold, it was brittle, acting as a stagnant pocket of time that had been forgotten while the chill bit through my thin clothes and settled deep into my marrow. I rubbed my arms, scraping my palms against my skin, but it was completely useless because the heat was gone. Fragments of the fight flashed behind my eyes, forcing me to relive the arena, the roar of the Gammas, and the metallic tang of blood. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, remembering the exact way Damien looked at me before the world went black. I blinked hard to shove the memories into a dark corner, though they clung to me like wet silk anyway. Duke wasn't back, having mentioned meetings at the warehouse with that casual, dismissive shrug that made everything sound like a joke, even when people were dying. The silence was a relief, though the tension crawled right back in, starting at the base of my spine and working its way up because I wasn'

Damien's POV My body was a cage that had suddenly grown too small as a dense, terrifying heat surged through my marrow. It was a strength I had not felt in years, waking like a dormant predator finally shaking off a decade of sleep. My mother’s medicines had kept this power buried for so long that the sudden rush felt like an invasion. The air in the room did not just feel thin, it felt stagnant and unable to feed the fire expanding in my lungs. My shirt clung to my back, damp with sweat that smelled of copper and the sharp ozone that hangs in the air right before a storm breaks the sky open. A sudden explosion of pain hit my chest, sending me straight to the floor on all fours. The stone ran cold against my palms as I pressed my hands against my ribs to keep them from cracking, but it did nothing to stop the physical tearing. It felt exactly like my skeleton was being forced apart by a hand from the inside while my spine arched backward, leaving the vertebrae to grind against one

Sienna's POV My boots sank into the packed dirt. The heavy, ancient air pressed against my chest, thick enough to taste. I didn't touch the dark wood of the table again; instead, my eyes tracked the grooves of the script, following the sharp angles until they converged on a dense knot at the center. It was a lock without a keyhole. I backed away, my gaze drifting to the perimeter of the chamber where the stone walls took shape in the low, reddish glow. The surface wasn't flat. It was covered in deep relief carvings of wolves locked in a violent, eternal struggle. A faint, low light hummed within the lines, making the shadows move across the stone like living fur. My breath caught. The air felt thin, forcing me to draw shallow, dragging breaths as the heat from the iron braziers began to settle into my skin. I moved along the perimeter, tracking the line of carved bodies until the sequence broke. One image sat completely separate from the battle scenes. I stepped closer, my face