The Luna Who Lived Twice

Chapter5

My brows furrowed. I knew what he was hinting at, but I didn't want to believe it, because there was no way he could have understood that.

“W—what does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

He finally glanced at me.

“Your breathing changed as we approached the stairwell, you tightened your grip on me, I could feel your heart pounding harder and faster.”

My cheeks burned.

“I still don’t understand what that had to do.”

“You’re afraid of the dark, Blair.”

My stomach twisted like he had deciphered a confidential code.

My lips parted.

“H—how do you know that?” I blinked.

“Anyone with common sense would notice.”

My gaze stayed on him.

Maybe he was right.

I was spooked back there, I just didn’t expect him to notice and conclude.

“What about the guards?” I asked. “You walked back to them like you knew they were going to let us go.”

“I didn’t,” he said, taking a turn to another road. “I only played a trick on their minds. There’s this thing called reverse psychology.”

I almost rolled my eyes.

“You told them we weren’t there,”

“And?”

“And they acted like we weren’t there!”

“And?”

“That’s not normal!” I blurted.

“Was anything about tonight normal?”

Well, now that I think of it…no.

I pinched my temple.

I was in a car with a very strange man. I had a mild concussion. My ankle was throbbing. I had no idea where we were going. I had lost my phone. I was wanted by a whole pack.

Regardless of what was going on, it was better than getting engaged to my death.

“We’re here,” Rhys said as we came to a halt.

I unbuckled my seat belt and looked around through the glass.

I gulped as a large house stood in front of us.

“This is where… you live?” I asked slowly.

“For now, it’s somewhere safe.”

He lifted me again before I could argue.

“You know I can walk, right?” I muttered.

He just ignored me and opened the door with a key card.

The inside was nothing like the outside. The outside looked like an old crusty mansion but the inside looked… modern and cozy.

He dropped me on the couch.

“It’s a perfect illusion for intruders,” he said in a low tone.

“Oh… did you—did I say that out loud?” I said, wondering if I had asked out loud.

He looked at me and I shook off the thought.

“You should get some rest,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I protested.

A yawn escaped.

“Right,” I finally said.

He lifted me again and took me to a big room.

“This should be enough for you,” he said. “Then in the morning, I’ll check your ankle, and we can formulate a plan.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He finally shut the door.

The adrenaline finally wore off, and I was alone with my thoughts.

Rhys’s POV

The moment I shut the door behind me, a great weight pressed against my chest.

I leaned on the nearest wall to steady myself.

I didn’t believe it. She was here.

For a long moment, I simply stood there, staring at the closed door in disbelief, like whoever was behind the door was the only person that could save me from despair.

I wasn’t wrong. She was my escapism, my safe place, my everything. Yet, she was taken away from me.

It only took 500 years. Years of longing and self-destruction. Years of silence. Years of watching the world forget about her. Years of trying to forget the sound of her voice to ease my heart.

Yet, she was finally here. And I didn’t understand how. I didn’t understand how she looked so much like her.

The weight pressed harder.

Her eyes flashed in my head.

Those big brown things that looked at me and yearned for my touch now looked at me with fear and confusion.

The thought twisted something deep inside me.

She had never looked at me like that before, not even once.

A bitter laugh slipped out of me.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath.

Why would she recognize me?

Five centuries had passed. Five hundred years since the night the world ripped her away from me. Five hundred years since the last time I heard her voice.

Her last words were my name. She said it with exhaustion, but her eyes told me all she hadn’t when she could.

“Rhys,” I tried to say the way she did.

I pushed myself off the wall slowly.

The image of her laying in the snow while crimson dripped from her stomach.

Anger burst through my veins.

My legs felt heavy as I walked down the quiet hallway.

The house was silent as always. And for years I had grown used to that silence. It had become my companion. It was safer than the outside world, so I drowned in it.

Now it felt unbearable.

Because she was here. Alive and breathing.

Sleeping just a few steps away from me.

My hand dragged across my face as I walked into the living room.

This couldn’t be real.

I didn’t understand how it was possible.

Was I having a mild concussion too? Or have I stayed in the darkness so long I’m starting to imagine her presence?

I walked my way to my basement door. My chest tightened as I twisted the door knob.

I took a few steps into the room, fully able to see the wall covered with a large blanket.

I stripped the cover cloth of the wall. I looked up slowly.

And there she was. My wife, Carissa.

Her mural hung there, as beautiful as ever.

That was the only thing I had left of Carissa. The only thing that gave me a little bit of hope, was that she still thought about me even though she was ten feet on the ground.

Her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders. Soft lips curved in a smile that once belonged only to me.

And… those eyes.

For a moment, I simply stared at the painting.

Centuries passed and it still hurt the same.

My chest tightened as I stepped closer.

“You would laugh at me if you saw me now,” I murmured quietly.

My voice sounded rough.

I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers over the painted outline of her cheek.

A sharp ache settled in my chest.

“I searched for you,” I whispered.

The words fell into the quiet room like a confession.

“I searched everywhere.”

Cities rose and fell. Kingdoms burned to dust. Generations lived and died.

And I remained.

Looking… waiting… hoping.

My jaw tightened.

I remembered the early years the most.

Those were the worst.

Back when hope was still alive inside me. Back when I believed I was dreaming. Back when I believed your end came too soon, too sudden, that you were alive somewhere else.

I traveled across continents.

Every time someone said they had seen a woman with silver hair and strange eyes.

Every time someone mentioned a face that resembled hers.

I went.

Every single time.

And every single time…

It wasn’t her.