Lahat ng Kabanata ng Rejected Luna: Awakening Her Silver Wolf: Kabanata 171 - Kabanata 180

Marcella's POV The house wasn't so big, but it had sheltered both of us after the previous Alpha had sent me over to live with him after the demise of my parents. But did he think that was a sort of compensation for sending my parents off in battle to die? Initially, I thought he was nice. At least that was what I saw, what I felt. Until he wasn't anymore. He suddenly stopped smiling. Maybe time was all he needed to reveal and unleash the devil within him. It seemed the king didn't see him fit, because instead of him, he bestowed upon his brother, who is my father, the official title of the Pax Beta. And instead of loving himself, he carried himself with the same resigned bitterness that had marked my father's title as the Beta. He would stand in front of his bedroom mirror, staring into nothing but his self-image. And then one day, he took his small dagger, slashing the flesh of his wrist.

Marcella's POV His eyes were cold, yet they held a sort of amusement to my struggles. And when the tears became uncontrollable, they flowed freely. But he didn't let it flow, though, because he held them with his knife, his smile growing wider. “Yes, that's it. Brielle, cry for me.” He said with a voice that was laced with absolute satisfaction. The wooden floor gave a thudding noise as he dug his dagger into it beside me, before using the hand that held onto it to spread my legs apart. “Is that tears? You badly want to see him. Don't worry, because I am going to send you to him with this dagger after I'm done with you. Ezekiel is dead anyway, you should join him.” His hand rubbed my thighs, massaging them roughly as they made way to my folds. His hands found them, and he spread them apart, and I could feel his stiffened, hard-rock member pressing against my entrance. My eyes c

Marcella's POV I raised my shaky hands even higher before driving the dagger into his chest, right where his beating heart was. And watched as he drew his last breath. Finally, I am free, free from his clutches. These experiences have shown me that sometimes running isn't an option, but to face a challenge head-on. He didn't whimper, nor was he able to scream. He just died, quietly, painfully. I didn't pull out the knife. I left it right there on his chest before standing up on my feet that were trembling, turning on the cloth that had been thrown at me by the boy. I tossed it on my body. It was short, covering my upper body and just a portion of my thighs, but it was manageable. Even if it wasn't, did I even have a choice? And then my feet walked me outside, staggering as I did. So the first thing I did was look around to see if my savior was still somewhere around, and I

Eleanor's POV I had paused from running in order to hunt, but all I was able to hunt was one rabbit. And it had taken me a whole lot of my damn time. At one point, I had even lost my way. I knew I wouldn't be able to catch anything else after this, even if it was a hare. But still, I decided to try. I had tracked down another rabbit with my sense of smell, and finally found it. But after chasing it, it ran back to its hole. Minutes after that, I found a squirrel, but it ended up climbing on a tree, jumping from one tree to the other. Was hunting always this challenging? I had absolutely no idea about it. I was so used to living like a princess back at my father's house that I didn't even know the difficulties people had to go through to put food on our dinner table. But now I know. Danika did most of the chores. She would make me stay back home while she went out hunting. She w

Eleanor's POV Just like my legs, my heart ceased to beat. As I returned my gaze to my mother, her mouth was open, as if gasping for breath. Her eyes were still open, even though she had given up the ghost, and blood was still gushing out from the wide hole in her neck. She died. A really horrible and painful death. Who did this to me? Who—who did this? I voiced out, looking at no one in particular. Who had killed my mother. My poor legs buckled under and I fell down against them. I couldn’t help it. And no one was talking to me or filling my curiosity. But I still asked, my voice rising to a pitch this time, who did this? My emotions were a whirlwind. It was messy—pain, confusion and anger. All of them came crashing down upon me at once. My arms were aggressively pulled from behind, yanking me up to my weak feet before a voice I knew so well thundered in my ears.