Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins (Lysandra) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lysandra’s POV

Five Years Later

“I, Orion Ravencroft, declare this forest belongs to the Moonshade Pack!”

Orion’s small voice rang through the trees as he balanced precariously on a branch, his chest puffed out in perfect mimicry of an Alpha’s stance. At five years old, he already commanded attention with an uncanny resemblance to his father–a fact that both delighted and terrified me.

Below, Lyra rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Come down from there. You can’t even hold onto a branch properly. How are you going to be an Alpha?”

“Can too!” Orion inched forward, reaching for a higher branch.

I tensed, ready to sprint forward. “Orion, be careful-”

Too late. The branch snapped with a decisive crack. Orion tumbled through the air, landing with a thud on the soft forest floor. My heart stopped before his indignant face popped up from the fallen leaves.

“I was just testing gravity,” he announced, brushing dirt from his clothes. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but his chin jutted forward stubbornly. “Real Alphas don’t cry.”

Lyra giggled behind her hand, green eyes–my eyes–sparkling with mischief. “You’re covered in dirt. Mommy’s going to make you take another bath.”

I moved toward them, shaking my head. “Playing ‘Hunt the Alpha‘ again? At this rate, you’ll have climbed every tree in this forest, my moonbeams.”

My gaze lingered on Orion as he squared his shoulders, so like Tristan in the gesture it made my chest ache. Both twins showed signs of their Alpha bloodline–enhanced strength, accelerated healing, natural leadership qualities -but Orion seemed to embody Tristan’s commanding presence more with each passing day.

Five years. Five years since I’d fled the Silverblood Pack with nothing but the clothes on my back and two precious lives growing inside me. Five years of building a new identity as Lysandra Ravencroft, embracing my true heritage as the daughter of the Moonshade Pack’s former Alpha. Five years without seeing Tristan.

“Uncle Kieran!” Lyra’s excited shout pulled me from my thoughts. She darted past me, arms outstretched toward the tall figure emerging from the tree line.

Kieran Nightcrest, Beta of the Moonshade Pack, knelt to catch her in his arms. His rugged features softened as he swung her in a circle, “My little ones! Come to Uncle Kieran, quick!”

Orion forgot his bruised pride, racing to join them. Kieran gathered both children, lifting them effortlessly as they squealed with delight.

I watched them, smiling despite the twinge in my heart. Kieran was handsome, kind, and patient–everything

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Tristan hadn’t been. Yet something inside me still compared them, noting that while Kieran might not possess Tristan’s raw magnetism, he offered something far more valuable: consistency and genuine affection.

For years, Kieran had stood by me–attending the twins‘ school events, teaching Orion to fish, reading bedtime stories to Lyra. To the pack, we were practically engaged, a convenient fiction that protected my status and kept unwanted suitors at bay.

But my heart remained stubbornly unmoved, even as my wolf Astrid seemed drawn to Kieran’s wolf. I’d gained my wolf after childbirth–a miracle that confirmed my Alpha bloodline–but our desires didn’t always align.

“They’re getting too big for this, Kieran said, setting the children down. His warm eyes met mine, filled with questions he never asked aloud.

‘Let’s head back,‘ I suggested, taking each twin by the hand. “It’s almost dinner time.”

***

Alaric’s voice carried through the house as we entered, the unmistakable tone of Alpha business in his clipped responses. My brother paced the living room, phone pressed to his ear, nodding at us as we entered.

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” he said abruptly, ending the call. His attention immediately shifted to the twins. “How are my favorite troublemakers today?”

“I claimed the forest for our pack!” Orion declared proudly.

“And then fell out of a tree,” Lyra added with sisterly precision.

Alaric laughed, ruffling their hair. “Go wash up for dinner. I need to talk to your mother.”

The twins scampered off, their footsteps thundering up the stairs. Alaric turned to me, his expression shifting to something more serious.

“In a few days, the Moon Ring Council is hosting a major gathering,” he said without preamble. “You’ve been invited too. I hope you’ll attend with Kieran.”

I stiffened. “No, Ric. I don’t want to go.”

“Lysandra, what’s wrong? How can you not attend?” Alaric frowned, his Alpha intensity breaking through. “Everyone wants to meet you. You must represent our pack.”

Kieran placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps Lysandra has concerns-”

“The great Eldreth Frostwhisper will be there,” Alaric interrupted, knowing exactly which buttons to push. “You’ve always wanted to meet him, haven’t you? You can ask him anything about medicine.”

My resistance wavered. Eldreth Frostwhisper was legendary in werewolf medical circles.

“Only because of him,” I conceded.

“But I have one condition.”

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Alaric and Kieran exchanged glances before answering in unison: “What?”

“I want to keep my identity discreet.”

Alaric’s brow furrowed. “What? Why? They specifically asked for you.”

I crossed my arms, standing my ground. “Promise me. I don’t want Tristan to know about me, in case he’s there

too.”

The memory of my transformation flashed through my mind–lying in the delivery room, moonlight streaming through the windows as contractions tore through me. The moment when, amid excruciating pain, a separate consciousness had emerged. Astrid, my wolf, purple–furred and fierce, had appeared as my children entered the

world.

The doctor had theorized that my inability to shift before wasn’t physical but psychological–the trauma of my upbringing and then my marriage had suppressed my wolf. The twins‘ birth had somehow broken that barrier.

“Fine,” Alaric sighed, shaking his head. “Though I think you’re being ridiculous, Lyss. Tristan has no power over

you anymore.”

“You haven’t seen him in years,” Kieran added gently. “People change.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about his changes,” I replied, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

Everyone knew how Tristan had transformed the Silverblood Pack since taking over from his father three years ago. Under his leadership, they’d become the most powerful pack in the region, feared and respected in equal measure. They called him “the Most Ruthless Alpha,” and whispers of his cold–blooded business tactics and merciless treatment of enemies circulated even in our territory.

My gaze drifted to the stairs where my children had disappeared. Orion with Tristan’s commanding presence, Lyra with his quick intelligence. Both carried his legacy in their blood, yet neither knew their father’s name.

I must protect you from your father, I thought. Even if it means hiding my identity for the rest of my life.

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