From Rejected Slave to Second Chance Luna

After the Rejection

Spurn’s POV

Since Dominik’s rejection, I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I could not let anyone know what happened that night. If they found out, they would use it against me until there was nothing left to use. They would call me rejected. Unwanted. Proof that even the Moon Goddess could not love me. So I did what I always did. I scrubbed the floors. I washed dishes. I carried laundry. I took the daily beatings and swallowed every sound before it could escape. But some wounds did not stay where no one could see them. The rejection left an ache beneath my ribs that flared whenever Dominik walked past me, whenever strawberries and cream drifted through my memory, whenever my body remembered hope and punished me for having it. The first time I saw him after that night, he was standing near the academy doors with Cameron and three warriors-in-training, laughing like nothing had changed. But it had. I saw it before he could hide it. His smile pulled too tight at the corners. One hand pressed briefly against his chest before he shoved it into his pocket. His jaw clenched when my scent reached him, and for half a second, the color drained from his face. Then Cameron said something, and Dominik forced a laugh so sharp it sounded more like a growl. He looked through me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but his wolf was restless behind his eyes, pacing, hurting, furious that anyone might notice. After that, I saw it every time. In the cafeteria, his fingers tightened around his glass until the plastic bent. In the hall, his steps faltered when we passed too close. On the training field, he swung harder than necessary, taking the pain out on anyone foolish enough to spar with him. He hid it behind smirks, insults, and cruelty because that was what Dominik knew how to do. He would rather make me look small than let anyone see that rejecting me had wounded him too. In the halls, his friends laughed louder when I passed. Morgan watched me more closely, as if she could smell that something had changed and hated me for having even one secret she did not own. If anything, the rejection made them crueler. Maybe Dominik blamed me for the pain the broken bond caused him. Maybe Morgan hated that I had once been tied to the Alpha heir, even for a few seconds. Whatever the reason, I learned to move smaller, speak less, and disappear faster.

The weeks between my birthday and graduation blurred together in a cycle of school, chores, hunger, and punishment, but I counted them anyway. Twenty-eight days. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six. Every morning, I dragged myself out of the basement before the sun rose. Every night, I returned with aching feet, sore hands, and homework hidden beneath my mattress, so Morgan would not destroy it. School should have been a refuge, but even there, Moon Howlers followed me. Morgan and her friends took every chance to remind me that good grades did not make me one of them. Dominik was worse in a quieter way. Sometimes I caught him staring at me from across the cafeteria or the training field, his jaw clenched, his wolf restless behind his eyes. Then he would turn away and laugh with Camron as if I had imagined it. I did not know if he regretted rejecting me or only hated that the bond had hurt him too. I decided it did not matter. His regret would not feed me. His guilt would not free me. My grades might. My countdown might. Graduation became more than a date on the calendar. It became a door, and each day I survived was one step closer to reaching the handle.

When I whispered the number of days left, I did not only count them. I planned them. Twenty-six days meant finishing the scholarship essay and hiding a clean copy inside my literature book. Twenty-five meant saving the pencil Mrs. Halden gave me because I could not afford to lose another one. Twenty-four meant memorizing the bus route out of Moon Howlers territory, even if I did not yet have the money to use it. I made lists in my head while I scrubbed floors. I would graduate. I would accept any scholarship that came with a bed and a locked door. I would leave with one bag if that was all I could carry. I would not look back for Morgan, Dominik, or the parents who had taught me I was nothing. Every day they forced me to kneel, only made the promise inside me harder. They thought counting down meant I was dreaming. They did not know I was preparing.

So I worked harder. I finished essays in the thin light that leaked through the basement window. I memorized formulas while scrubbing dishes. I reviewed history dates while folding Morgan’s laundry. When the hunger got bad enough that the words blurred, I pressed my palm flat over my stomach and whispered the number of days left like a prayer. Twenty-one. Twenty. Nineteen. Mrs. Halden pulled me aside once after class and told me I was on track to graduate with high honors. For one dangerous second, happiness rose so fast I nearly smiled. Then fear followed it. Good news never stayed good in Moon Howlers. If Morgan heard, it would become another reason to punish me. Mrs. Halden must have seen my face change, because she closed the classroom door and lowered her voice. “Spurn, there is a scholarship committee reviewing applications for the University of Howlers. Your essays are excellent, and your grades are strong enough to compete.” I stared at her, unable to speak. University of Howlers. The name sounded too big for someone like me, too clean, too far away from basement walls and bloodstained laundry. “I submitted your recommendation,” she continued gently. “If they choose you, it could cover tuition and housing.” Housing. A room above ground. A bed that no one could kick. A door that might lock from the inside. My throat tightened so hard I could barely breathe. Hope was dangerous, but Mrs. Halden placed it in my hands anyway.

I tried to hide it, but secrets did not stay hidden long in a pack house built on jealousy and control. By the end of the week, Morgan knew. She cornered me in the laundry room with a smile that looked too much like our mother’s. “High honors,” she said, dragging the words out like they tasted sour. “A scholarship recommendation.” My hands froze on the towel I was folding. “I do not know if I will get it.” Morgan stepped closer, her perfume sharp enough to sting my nose. “You really think a university wants you?” She laughed softly, cruelly. “You do not belong in front of me, Spurn. You should be at the bottom where you belong. On your knees, scrubbing my floors, washing my clothes, cleaning up after wolves who actually matter.” Her hand shot out and knocked the stack of towels to the floor. “Look at you. You can count down to graduation all you want. Twenty days, ten days, one day. It will not change what you are.” I bent to pick up the towels because my body knew obedience before my mind could choose it. Morgan crouched just enough to speak near my ear. “If you walk across that stage and make me look bad, I will put you back where you belong so hard you will forget how to stand.” My fingers closed around the fallen towels until my nails dug into the fabric. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to tell her that every number I counted was a step away from her and that if the University of Howlers opened its gates to me, I would run through them and never look back. But I only lowered my head and whispered, “Yes, Morgan.” She smiled because she thought silence meant surrender. She did not know silence had become the place where I hid my escape.