Return of the Rejected Luna

A Broken Bond

“Look! It’s them—the top executives of the Federation!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd as wide eyes turned toward the trio. The air around them seemed to pulse with raw power, each figure more imposing than the last.

“So, this is what the Federation members are capable of,” one woman whispered, her voice trembling. “They defeated that A-grade mutant like it was child’s play.”

“Did you see the way it fell? Just how strong are they?”

Eyes darted from one talent to the next, struggling to comprehend what they had just witnessed. The shadow serpent—an unstoppable terror to everyone else—had been struck down in seconds, its dark body dissolving into nothing.

“Isn’t that Lady Elvina, the new alpha of the Blood Moon pack?” A young man’s voice broke through the murmurs, his eyes wide with awe. “She looks even more ethereal than in the photos.”

Ethereal was an understatement. The woman stood tall, her presence regal and untouchable, short, raven hair gleaming under the moonlight. 

“I came to Willowbrook just to meet her! My life goal... succeeded,” someone murmured, their voice a mix of disbelief and admiration. 

Elvina appeared slightly flustered by the constant remarks.

“And that,” another voice chimed in, trembling with excitement, “That’s the Federation’s heavenly prince!”

A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as they gazed upon the man in the white robe; his calm and commanding figure cut through the chaos like a beacon. 

His long, silver hair, barely tousled from the battle, framed his sharp yet gentle features. His piercing blue eyes made everyone feel as though he saw right through them.

“Wait! Isn’t that... Alpha Arvis?” A sharp intake of breath followed. “His arrival in Willowbrook was all over the news earlier! And now he’s here… in the flesh!”

Arvis stood like a living sculpture, whose very presence exuded an otherworldly allure that could quiet even the fiercest storm. His gaze was now a deep shade of crimson, seemingly like smoldering embers in the night.

“Tonight... we are lucky beyond measure,” a bystander whispered in disbelief, “to witness such greatness gathered in one place.”

The crowd surged, their awe turning into a quiet frenzy, desperate to get closer, to glimpse the figures they revered. Their whispers filled the air like a storm, bewitched by the legends before them. 

Aerith’s gaze locked with Arvis’s for what felt like an eternity, though it lasted only a heartbeat. A sharp, nauseating twist surged in her gut, making her feel as though her insides would spill out. 

Instinctively, her fingers tightened around the item hidden in her pocket, clutching it as though her life depended on it. The cold, searing memory of her k********g crashed over her—the sickening indifference in Arvis’s eyes as the kidnappers brandished their threats, hurting her to coerce him.

Her wolf howled from within, a furious, wild storm on the verge of breaking free. The urge to surrender, to throw herself into her mate’s arms and demand answers, nearly consumed her. 

But Aerith held back, barely containing her wolf’s feral desperation as her body trembled while trying to resist. Just then, she saw his gaze shift toward her.

A flicker crossed Arvis’s face for the briefest moment—an emotion so foreign, so unlike the cold detachment she had known, and just as suddenly as he glanced in her direction, he averted his eyes.

‘Did he... recognize me?’ Aerith wondered, ‘Could his wolf still sense me?’ 

The bitter doubts crept up inside her mind, but she quickly dismissed them. She had rejected Arvis as her mate, the bond should have been severed the moment she forsake him.

The crowd surged around the Talents, overwhelming them with chaos. 

In an instant, a fleet of sleek black sedans appeared. Guards in tailored black suits emerged swiftly, carving a path through the mass of people, securing the Talents’ privacy with cold efficiency.

Aerith stood frozen, watching the Talents ushered toward their respective cars. Her gaze lingered on Arvis, her heart aching with the raw, unspoken yearning that had gnawed at her for so long. 

Should she run to him now, confront him, and demand the answers she so desperately needed? ‘What if this was all a misunderstanding?’ Her resolve wavered, trembling on the brink of shattering.

But just as quickly as the hope surfaced, it crumbled. 

Elenora appeared at Arvis’s side, and Aerith's breaths fell silent as she watched her wrap her arm possessively around Arvis.

A bitter laugh tugged at the corners of Aerith’s lips. 

Without thinking, her body moved on instinct, taking a step forward. But before she could close the distance, Winslie’s hand tightened around her wrist, holding her back.

“What are you doing?” he asked confusion and concern etched in his eyes.

The words snapped Aerith back to reality, she had completely forgotten about his presence. Just then, Matthias’s voice sliced through the crowd.

“Winslie!”

Winslie’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and frustration as he immediately released Aerith’s wrist, rushing toward Matthias.

“You reckless fool!” he scolded, his expression torn between anger and deep concern. “How dare you make such an imprudent decision without my permission! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

As Winslie continued to chastise Matthias, his eyes darted over him, scanning his body for any signs of injury. 

“How’s Melena?” Matthias asked, his tone steady, fully aware that Winslie’s anger would subside once he confirmed no serious harm. Though punishment was inevitable, Matthias knew he had escaped the worst of it.

Aerith remained on the side. The warmth between Winslie and Matthias felt distant, and the slow realization struck her soon—she had no place here, neither in Neo nor between Arvis and Elenora.

Winslie’s cold words from earlier echoed in her mind as she took small silent steps back, and then, Aerith turned away, her heart unsteady as she slipped into the crowd.

Winslie had already found someone to cure Melena, and Matthias had returned safely. There was no reason to stay with Neo any longer. 

Aerith ran until her feet hurt, she did not allow herself to look back even once. By the time, she stopped, her breaths were ragged and short, and her eyes finally caught a glimpse of her reflection.

She paused, staring at the unfamiliar face. The mystical orb had altered everything, and now, all that remained was the cascade of her blonde curls.

A sharp pain pricked Aerith’s heart as her jaw clenched. An old memory, unbidden, resurfaced in her mind.

She remembered when they were younger, Arvis always had to endure grueling training sessions in the mountains. The former alpha had always been strict, pushing him to the limits. He would forbid Arvis from using his talent, forcing him to rely on the raw strength of his wolf to complete missions. 

Aerith was never allowed to follow. 

But she would sneak out sometimes, trailing Arvis through the dense woods. Arvis, usually so focused, had stumbled when he noticed her. In that split second of distraction, he had fallen into a trap.

Aerith’s heart ached as she remembered the panic, the guilt that surged through her tiny body. She had rushed to his side, her small hands desperately tugging at the mana-infused nets that held him captive. 

She worked frantically, trying to free him. But in the end, her effort only led to both being ensnared together, tangled in the trap.

Arvis could have freed himself easily—his strength was more than enough to break through the netting. But doing so would have torn some of her long hair, the strands caught tightly in the fibers. 

Aerith had told him it was fine, that he should not hesitate because of her. But Arvis refused. Instead, he had called for help, knowingly failing the mission. 

Now, as Aerith stepped out of a salon, she felt unbearably heavy. Her vision blurred with unshed tears as her fingers hesitantly brushed through the short strands of her once-long hair, now freshly dyed with a hint of red. 

The familiar weight was gone, replaced by an emptiness.

She had finally shed her old self, but the pain was so overwhelming that the moment her eyes caught the glowing sign of the bar ahead, she stepped inside without a second thought.

After more drinks than she could count, Aerith’s mind was swimming in a fog of intoxication, the burning pain in her gut twisting her insides. She had wanted to feel numb, force her mind to forget every emotion, every memory, even if only for a few fleeting moments.

But for some reason, the drinks only made her feel worse, vulnerable. Her heart was unbearably heavy, and she hadn’t even realized when she had spent the last of her money—the small fortune Neo had given her.

Aerith staggered to her feet, managing to walk somehow, but just as her fingers touched the door, a hand clamped down on her wrist. It was the bar owner, his grip like a vice as he demanded.

“Who’s paying for your drinks, girl?” 

Aerith blinked, her vision swimming. Her head pounded as she fumbled in her pockets, desperately searching for anything.

“I… I don’t have any money,” she stammered, her voice small and broken.

A cruel smile twisted on the man’s lips, his eyes darkening, “How can I let you leave if you don’t pay?” Aerith attempted to respond, but her head was too heavy.

The man roughly pulled her hand, leaving dark bruises on her wrist, “There are other ways to settle a tab.” He yanked her closer, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes flooding her senses. 

Aerith gagged as nausea churned in her stomach.

“I’ll pay you back—with money! Just let me go!” she shouted, her panic sobering her in a painful rush.

“Slow down,” he sneered, pressing his body against hers. “Since you’re out of cash, why not enjoy another drink? My treat.”

Aerith’s pulse raced as she struggled to pull free, but his grip only tightened, dragging her closer. She cursed her fate—why did she always seem to attract these kinds of people?

“Don’t play dumb,” the man hissed, his breath hot and sour against her ear. “I know you’re broke. Be a good girl, and maybe I’ll give you some extra cash on top of the free drinks.”

Revulsion surged through her as he rubbed against her, vile and shameless. “Get off me!” Aerith screamed, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Leave her!” A sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. Aerith’s eyes flicked to the source, locking onto a face she loathed more than anything at that moment—Arvis Windward.