Claiming the Rejected Luna

Chapter 4:

Damon’s POV

Standing over the rogue’s body, I felt like the weight of the entire pack was pressing down on my shoulders. Something felt off, wrong, like a storm was brewing, and I was the only one who could see it coming. His last words replayed in my mind like some bad punchline: “The one with many mates... the original vampire seeks her.” That prick had practically shouted Aria’s name without realizing it. And that? That wasn’t going to fly.

Drake was beside me, staring down at the rogue, looking like someone who’d lost his way on a bad joke. A part of me enjoyed watching him clueless, even if he was my best friend—because if he wasn’t, maybe I’d already have wrung his neck for what he did to her.

“So, this is about some mystery she-wolf?” Drake mused, scratching his chin. “Must be a damn powerful wolf if the original vampire wants her. But why would rogues be digging around in our territory?”

I glanced at him, keeping my face blank. “Rogues are like weeds—pests who wander where they don’t belong. Maybe they’re on the hunt for something more than we realize, or maybe they’re just feeling ambitious.”

He nodded, still deep in thought, as if the rogue’s death could reveal more answers than it had already failed to give. I kept my gaze steady, pretending I was as lost as he was. You can’t trust him, my wolf hissed. Not after what he did to Aria, not with this.

Drake was still rambling when I nodded to the guards to clean up. I didn’t have time for this, not when there were questions burning in my mind. “You take care of this mess,” I said, locking eyes with him just long enough to make it clear I wasn’t asking. “I’ve got work to do.”

He muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t look back. Instead, I headed to my office—my sanctuary, my fortress. The one place I could drown out the world. In here, I didn’t have to play the role of Alpha, best friend, or pack leader. In here, it was just me, the shadows, and the mess of thoughts scrambling for clarity.

My office, or rather, my library, was my safe haven, the only place I felt in control these days. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with dusty, worn books. Titles that promised wisdom, secrets, power. I scanned the spines until my fingers found the ones that might hold a hint of the truth I needed: Fated Connections: A Study of the Moon’s Chosen, The Nature of Bonds, Blood and Binding: A History of Mate Marks. I yanked each one down, stacking them on my desk.

After pouring myself a bourbon, I kicked my feet up on the desk and started flipping through, the scent of aged paper filling the air. But book after book, page after page, nothing. Not one word about multiple mates. Just as I was about to call it quits, something caught my eye. A name, scrawled in faded ink at the bottom of the page: Tabitha Black.

I closed the book slowly, rubbing my thumb over the leather-bound cover. Tabitha Black. The name hummed with old power, dark magic. This was no ordinary witch. Something in my gut twisted with unease. And that handwriting? I knew it too well. My grandfather.

Of course.

The old man would be able to tell me who she was. Or, he could’ve once upon a time. Now, the only place he could tell you about was some phantom battlefield from years gone by. His mind drifted between past and present like smoke, and even his wolf hadn’t been able to bring him back fully. He’d been a damn good Alpha, fierce and ruthless, but a head injury from a bloody battle left him scarred in ways even I couldn’t imagine.

Still, if anyone knew about Tabitha Black and her obsession with mates, it’d be him. And that meant a trip to the pack hospital.

I grabbed my bourbon and downed the last of it in one smooth motion, the warmth burning down my throat as I steeled myself for the conversation. I headed down the hall, shoulders tense, mind whirling through what the rogue had said. The only thing I knew for certain was that Aria was in danger, and if I was right, there wasn’t a single damn second to waste.

The problem with my path was that it led past the medical bay, and Aria was there. I could feel her presence long before I saw her. As I turned the corner, I saw her standing with my mother, head tilted back in laughter. The kind of laughter that seemed to radiate from her, like the world wasn’t a brutal place where packs turned on each other, where mates abandoned you without a second thought. My mother, bless her, adored Aria in every way. Hell, the whole pack did, aside from the jealous lot. And seeing her now, I couldn’t blame them.

I didn’t stop walking, but I slowed down just enough to watch her for a second longer. It was a dangerous, stupid move because looking at her, really looking, was enough to make me lose my grip. She was beautiful, in the effortless, natural way only she could pull off. Her ripped jeans hugged her curves, a simple white t-shirt draping over her like she’d been born to wear it. And that scent—wild, intoxicating—was enough to make me want to give up every ounce of restraint I had left.

I clenched my jaw, tearing my gaze away, my wolf pressing at the surface. Now is not the time, I warned myself.

But Aria’s gaze caught mine, and just like that, I was in deep. She was looking at me with those damn curious eyes of hers, like she could see right through every wall I’d built. I could feel her questions, the confusion she was trying to hide behind her soft smile.

“Damon?” my mother’s voice broke the silence, her warm smile barely hiding the curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through,” I said, forcing a smirk as I tore my gaze away from Aria. “Heading to see Grandfather. Thought I’d drop in.”

Aria’s smile wavered for a second, a flicker of hurt flashing in her eyes that made my chest tighten. She didn’t deserve the cold shoulder, not after what she’d been through. But I couldn’t let her see any weakness—not when everything was hanging by a thread.

I nodded curtly, excusing myself before I made a damn fool of myself. There was no time to dwell, not with the clock ticking down on whatever threat was out there, hovering over her. Over us.

In the pack’s medical unit, I made my way down the sterile hallway to a small room at the end, where my grandfather sat by a window, lost in some distant memory. Even in his old age, even stripped of the sharpness he once had, there was a fierceness in him that never quite died. I sat across from him, watching as his eyes drifted from the window to me, clouded but vaguely aware.

“Grandfather,” I said quietly. “It’s Damon.”

He squinted, recognition flickering in his eyes. “Damon?” His voice was rough, a relic of the warrior he used to be.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, knowing this moment of clarity wouldn’t last long. “I need to ask you something, about someone you once knew. A witch. Tabitha Black.”

The name triggered something. His eyes darkened, the corners of his mouth twisting into a smirk, like he was remembering a secret the world had forgotten. “Ah, yes... Tabitha Black. Dark woman, that one. Not to be trifled with.”

“What do you know about her?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

He rubbed his chin, a faint glint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Tabitha was dangerous. Obsessed with mates. Said she could... rewrite the laws of nature if she wanted. People thought she was mad, but she didn’t care. She wanted power. Thought she could harness the mate bond, twist it to her will.” He laughed, a rough, humorless sound. “Foolish, perhaps. But dangerous, all the same.”

A chill ran down my spine. If this witch was behind what was happening to Aria, then we were in far deeper than I’d thought.

“Where is she now?” I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a small shrug, his gaze drifting back to the window. “Dead, last I heard. But with witches, dead doesn’t always mean gone, Damon.”

He stared out at the empty grounds, the clarity in his eyes fading as quickly as it had come. I knew better than to press him for more; he was already slipping away, back into whatever battlefield he could never quite leave behind.

“Don’t let them take her,” he murmured, his voice distant, his mind halfway between the present and whatever ghostly memory he’d been trapped in.

I stood, his words searing into my mind as I left the room. Whatever it took, no one was taking Aria from me. Not rogues, not vampires, not witches. No one.

Leaving the medical unit, I braced myself, the weight of his warning pressing down on me like a curse.