The Rejected Luna's Dual Fate

Chapter 7

Palmer pushed through the door, his arms weighed down by crinkling shopping bags.

He set them down with a soft thud beside Rosa, who sat on the couch, her eyes distant, lost in a haze of thought. One of his old flannel shirts swallowed her slender frame, the sleeves rolled up unevenly, and a pair of his sweatpants, comically large on her.

She barely registered the bags, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of the shirt.

“They’re yours,” Palmer said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “You can’t keep wearing my clothes forever.”

He scanned the small living room for a place to settle, his gaze flickering back to her as he moved.

Rosa’s silence stretched taut between them, heavy with unspoken questions. She sat hunched, her dark hair falling in tangled waves over her shoulders, her blue eyes catching the dim light of the lamp.

There was something wild about her, even now, in this quiet moment like a creature poised to bolt.

Palmer sank into an armchair across from her, the worn leather creaking under his weight. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching her carefully.

The silence grew thicker, pressing against the walls of the small apartment, until Rosa’s voice sliced through it, soft and halting.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said, her words barely above a whisper.

Palmer’s brow furrowed, caught off guard.

“For what?”

“For staying here,” Rosa began, her voice trembling slightly.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering there as if to anchor herself.

“I mean… I know I’m imposing. Taking up your space, your time. I just… I want to say thank you. For taking me in. I promise, as soon as I’m on my feet, I’ll work, find my own place. I won’t be a burden forever.”

Her words spilt out in a rush, raw and earnest.

Palmer tilted his head, studying her. There was a sincerity in her voice that tugged at something in him, though he wasn’t sure what. He leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable.

“You got another place to go?” he asked, his tone matter-of-fact but not cold.

Rosa shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“No. Not really.”

"Then don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re here. That’s that. No need to keep apologising.”

She nodded, but her lips pressed into a tight line, as if she were swallowing a thousand unspoken words.

Palmer’s eyes lingered on her, taking in her features, the way her hands fidgeted with a nervous energy. He’d seen her that night on the highway

broken, bloodied, and stark naked, unconscious in the dirt.

The memory sat heavy in his chest, a puzzle he hadn’t yet pieced together.

She was attractive. Very.

He'd give her that. He wanted her to stay longer, but it would be stupid to ask. Thankfully, the goddess was on his side; she had nowhere and no one but him. The thought made him smile though it was selfish.

Rosa’s mind, meanwhile, churned with questions of her own. She’d always been quick, even as a young wolf, fleet-footed and sharp, but never particularly strong.

Her parents, before their death or were murdered? She wasn't sure yet and had been taught what they could about survival.

They’d given her books, human stories and histories, to help her understand the world beyond the pack.

She’d learned to blend in, to hide her nature, but it hadn’t been enough. After their deaths, she’d been banished for not being able to find a mate. Even the moon goddess disappointed her when she needed her and was desperate to claim her rightful place.

It wasn't until the chase got intense that she realised they were after her life.

Her own people.

Who could have been after her life?

She wasn't born to be a slave so being banished was good with her...at least for the time being.

Her desperate flight had landed her here, in Palmer’s world, bruised and battered but alive. And that was the part that gnawed at her. How had she healed so quickly?

The wounds from that night, deep gashes from claws and blades, should’ve taken weeks to heal, even with her wolf’s blood. Yet, within night and dawn, because she was unconscious till the next morning, her skin had knit itself back together, leaving only faint scars and a lingering ache.

She stole a glance at Palmer, who was watching her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

He’d been the only one there that night, the one who’d found her. Had he taken her to a hospital? A healer? But hospitals didn’t work that fast, and she hadn’t smelled the sterile tang of antiseptic or the faint hum of magic when she’d woken in his room.

Her curiosity burned, but Palmer’s guarded demeanour stopped her from pressing too hard. He hadn’t mentioned that night since she’d woken up, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stir that pot.

Still, the question lingered, sharp as a thorn: What had he done to save her?

Palmer broke the silence first, his voice low and deliberate.

“You were gonna tell me,” he said, leaning forward again, his eyes locking onto hers.

“How you ended up on that highway… naked.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and raw. Rosa’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing despite herself. She remembered nothing of that moment, only the blur of pain and fear before darkness had claimed her.

But the way Palmer said it, not with judgment but with a quiet insistence, made her feel exposed all over again.

“I…” She faltered, her hands clenching into fists.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with the truth,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for evasion. “You were running from something. Or someone. What happened?”

Rosa swallowed hard, her mind racing. How much could she tell him? He was human at least, she thought he was.

His scent was clean, earthy, without the metallic tang of magic or the musk of a shifter. But there was something about him, something steady and unshakable, that made her want to trust him. And yet, the truth was dangerous. If he knew what she was, a wolf, a fugitive, he might turn her out. Or worse, turn her in.

“I was running,” she finally admitted, her voice barely audible. “From people who… wanted to hurt me. I don’t know how I ended up on the highway. I just… I was hurt, and then I wasn’t. I don’t remember much.”

Palmer’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on the arm of the chair.

“You were in bad shape,” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

Rosa’s heart thudded. “But I did,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Because of you.”

He shrugged, deflecting the gratitude with a grunt. “Didn’t do much. Just brought you here.”

She didn’t believe him. There was more to it she could feel in the way he avoided her eyes now, the way his jaw tightened. But for now, she let it go. The truth, whatever it was, would come out eventually. For now, she was safe, and that was more than she’d dared to hope for.

Palmer stood abruptly, breaking the tension. “Get some rest,” he said, nodding toward the shopping bags. “Try on the clothes. Should fit better than mine.”

Rosa managed a small smile, her fingers brushing the edge of one of the bags.

"Thank you, Palmer. Really.” He gave her a curt nod, already turning toward the kitchen.

“Don’t mention it.” As he disappeared around the corner, Rosa’s gaze lingered on the empty doorway. She didn’t know what Palmer was hiding, or why he’d taken her in without hesitation and many questions.

But for the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar, maybe, or the faint promise of a future where she wouldn’t have to run.

Rosa jolted awake, her heart pounding as the remnants of a dream, fragmented images of claws and moonlight, slipped from her grasp.

Her ears twitched, catching the faint creak of the living room door below. Blame her wolf senses, sharpened by years of survival; even in sleep, she could pick up the slightest disturbance.

The sound was subtle, deliberate, not the groan of the old apartment settling. Someone or something was moving. She lay still for a moment, her breath shallow, straining to hear more.

The air carried a faint, unfamiliar scent earthy, but tinged with something sharp, like metal or frost. Her blue eyes flicked to the window, where a sliver of moonlight sliced through the curtains.

Midnight, by the moon’s position in the human world.

Too late for visitors. Too quiet for Palmer, who moved with a heavy, unapologetic tread. Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor as she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the creaky mattress.

The oversized flannel shirt, another of Palmer’s, hung loose on her frame, but she moved with the silent grace of her kind, her wolf’s instincts guiding her.

She crept toward the bedroom door, pausing to listen again. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant drip of a faucet.

But that creak lingered in her mind, a warning she couldn’t ignore. Rosa tiptoed down the narrow staircase, each step a calculated risk on the old, groaning wood.

She kept to the edges, where the boards were less likely to betray her. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, her senses heightened her nose picking up that strange scent again, stronger now, and her eyes catching every shadow in the dim light.

The living room lay ahead, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight spilling through the open curtains. The front door was ajar. Her breath caught, a low growl rumbling in her throat before she stifled it.