The Rejected Luna Strikes Back

Kimmy

A sharp pain in my stomach jolts me awake, my heart pounding.

I gasp for air, struggling to control my breathing. The pain is unbearable, a sharp, twisting sensation.

I try to sit up, but a wave of nausea forces me back down. I lie still, fearing any movement will worsen the agony. I try to clear my mind, but my thoughts keep returning to the inevitable truth. I want to deny it, to ignore it, but I can't escape the reality of the situation.

The thought of him with her, of his strong, rough hands, the ones that used to run over my skin, on another woman's skin, of his lips, the same ones that kissed mine, on hers, fills me with murderous rage and makes my stomach churn more, the pain intensifying because there is no other explanation.

Harry is getting intimate with her.

The instant I concede it in my mind, Akira, my inner wolf, unleashes a mournful howl.

Her anguish courses through my veins, her fury a fire that threatens to consume me.

Our emotions intertwine, and I moan with her, a primal wail rising from the depth of our shared heartache.

"I'm sorry, Akira. I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears I've been holding back finally streaming down my face.

Akira howls again. She doesn't want to accept it. She wants another explanation, but the pain in my stomach says it all.

My mate bond with Harry has never fully kicked in no matter how hard I try.

But the fragile bond I have with him has never deceived me, and we both know, intuitively, it isn't deceiving us now.

"We can't lie here and let that bitch have him, we need to stop this before it gets too far," Akira prompted, sounding livid.

"This is no time to lie crying. Stand up! Come on!"

I clench my jaw, the muscles aching, as I will myself up. My stomach roils, a bibitter taste rising to my mouth as I swing my legs down the side of my bed.

I pause, waiting for the nausea to pass, holding onto my mattress like a lifeline.

Akira's strength courses through me, and I take slow, labored steps toward the door, clinging to the wall for support.

The journey feels endless, crossing the vast expanse of my room - a luxurious sanctuary with cream-colored walls, plush carpet, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the pack lands.

Nothing but the best for the pack's beloved Luna. Normally, I delight in watching the rolling green valleys, the children's laughter, and the teenagers' playful courtship rituals.

But today, I wish those windows would vanish. Anyone can gaze up and witness my weakness.

Usually, I'd wave back at familiar faces, but today, I dread the thought of being seen in such a state.

I open the door and walk as gently as possible towards Harry's room. It used to be my room too. Harry and I always slept together. Until she came back.

The hall is eerily quiet, a far cry from the usual bustle of pack members going about their routines.

Every footstep feels too loud in the silence, echoing down the corridor like a reminder of the confrontation that awaits me.

My head pounds, the pressure building behind my eyes, but Akira keeps me grounded, her fury lending me the strength I don't feel on my own.

"Don't hesitate," she urges. "We need answers."

The distance between my room and Harry's has never felt this long. It's as though the very air is thick with tension.

With each footfall, memories flash before me - Harry's laughter, his promises, and the tender moments we once shared.

But now, they seem like a distant echo, drowned out by the weight of betrayal.

He once told me, looking into my eyes with his soulful aquamarine ones, during a picnic as we lay on the grass,

"I can't imagine a better woman for me, Kimmy," his eyes bored into mine.

I felt a blush rising to my cheeks. Harry's looks were always so intense.

"Thank you." I wave the bittersweet memory away.

I pause just outside the door to Harry's room, my hand trembling as it hovers over the handle.

My heart is pounding again, not just from the pain, but from the fear of what I might find on the other side.

Akira's growl reverberates through me, and I cling to it, using her fury to mask my doubt.

"I can't do this," I whisper, more to myself than to Akira.

"Yes, you can," she snaps back, her voice filled with certainty. I'm glad she feels so. I can't feel it. "We have to."

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to turn the handle.

The door creaks open, revealing the dimly lit room.

My gaze sweeps across the familiar space, landing on the bed we used to share.

And there, sprawled across it, is Harry - shirtless, naked, I suspect, underneath the covers, his muscular form a silhouette in the faint light. But he's not alone.