Bound By Fate: The Rejected Luna

Chapter 3

Adrian's Point of View

I stand at the edge of the Silver Fang pack house, the sounds of voices muffled inside, hidden behind the thick stone walls. My cousin, Lucas, is the Alpha here. We’re in his office, discussing pack matters, but the conversation has dragged on longer than I expected. The afternoon sun filters through the large windows.

I push open the back door and step outside, the air still warm but starting to cool as the day progresses. The playground just beyond the fence is empty now, the swings moving slightly with the breeze. The quiet outside feels a world away from the buzz of the pack house.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, glancing at the screen. Olivia’s name flashes across it.

I answer, holding the phone to my ear. “Olivia,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “I can’t meet up tonight. I’m busy.”

“But Adrian,” she says, her voice light and teasing. “You promised you'd come by. Everyone’s asking about you—my co-stars want to meet the infamous Adrian Black.”

I take a slow drag from my cigarette, exhaling slowly, my eyes focused on the empty playground. “Olivia, we’ve talked about this,” I reply, my tone sharp now. “We’re not in a relationship. I don’t want anyone thinking we are, like last time.”

I hear her sigh on the other end, but she doesn’t let up. “It’s just a casual meet-up. No harm in that. Please, just this once.”

I grind the cigarette out on the stone path, a sense of irritation creeping in. Her persistence is starting to get to me. I look up, scanning the quiet street.

“I’m not coming,” I say firmly. “You’re on your own this time.”

I’m about to hang up when something catches my attention—a small tug at my coat. It’s light at first, like a breeze brushing against my sleeve.

As I turn to see, I find a child standing beside me. A little girl, no more than five, her small hand still gripping the fabric of my coat. She’s smiling up at me, her eyes bright and innocent.

I stare down at her for a long moment. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her face. It’s as if something stirs inside me, a recognition that makes me feel… unsettled.

The phone slips from my hand, landing with a soft thud on the ground. I don’t move to pick it up. My gaze is fixed on the child, my mind racing to make sense of it. She looks so much like someone I once knew.

Her smile widens, showing a few missing teeth, and she giggles. “You look like my daddy,” she says, her voice soft and full of trust. "Or are you my daddy?"

I remain frozen, unable to respond. The moment stretches on, the world suddenly too quiet, as if time itself has stopped. The air is still, and my thoughts are a jumble I can’t sort through.

The girl stands there, waiting, her hand still on my coat, her gaze never leaving mine.

“I’m not your daddy,” I say, my voice flat, trying to shake the sudden confusion. I look around quickly, scanning the area for anyone who might be with her, someone who might explain what this is about. But the playground is still, and the street is empty. No one else in sight. It’s just me and this child, standing here in the middle of nowhere.

She doesn’t seem bothered by my words at all. Instead, she grins even wider, her small hands still gripping my coat. Her eyes are full of innocence and trust, as if she expects something more.

Then, out of nowhere, she raises both of her arms in the air, her expression one of pure pleading. She looks at me expectantly.

I blink, unsure of what to do. "What do you want?" I ask, not sure why I’m even indulging this. "Where’s your parent?"

She looks up at me with wide, eager eyes. "I want my mommy," she says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"That's why I’m asking where she is," I reply, confusion starting to churn in my gut.

The little girl shrugs. "I don’t know. Can you help me find her?"

I stare at her for a second, still processing. She’s just a child—she can’t be serious. But she looks so earnest, standing there with her arms still raised, waiting for me to respond.

My mind races, and I take a moment to breathe, but she’s not giving me much space. Then, without warning, she raises her arms again, this time with a soft whine, “Daddy, carry me. My legs are tired.”

My brows furrow as I stare at her, unsure of how to react. Carry her? This doesn’t make sense. I step back slightly, looking her over. But there’s no mistaking the pleading in her eyes.

Before I can say anything, my hand instinctively reaches out. I bend down, awkwardly scooping her up, holding her close against me. Her little body feels light in my arms, but her words… Her words are the only thing that keeps echoing in my head.

“I’m not your daddy,” I say again, as if saying it a second time will somehow make it true.

She giggles, a high, sweet sound that makes my chest tighten. The joy in her voice feels completely out of place, given the confusion swirling inside me. It’s as if she doesn’t care about the words I just said—only the fact that I’ve picked her up, holding her like she belongs in my arms.

And then, as if the universe decides to add another layer to this bizarre moment, I suddenly catch a familiar scent on the breeze. It’s faint at first, but unmistakable.

I freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest. The scent grows stronger, and I turn, my eyes scanning the street.

And then I see her. Standing just beyond the edge of the playground, just within view. Cassandra.

I stand there, rooted in place, the world narrowing down to her figure. She’s standing a little farther away, her expression unreadable, but her gaze is locked on me, piercing. The sight of her sends a wave of confusion crashing over me, and the words don’t come—nothing does. The little girl in my arms seems to notice the shift, but she doesn’t ask any questions. She just rests her head against my shoulder, content.

But it’s Cassandra. She’s here.