Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 187: A Night Of Chaos

Peter’s POV

As I walked past her, my arm touched hers. It was just a quick touch, but I felt it. That same spark. That same pull I'd felt when I first saw her.

I left quickly, not trusting myself to stay. But as I walked down the dark hallway, my chest felt heavy with guilt.

It had only been a few months since Amara died. And already, I was feeling something for someone else. I swallowed hard, my footsteps getting heavier as memories came flooding back.

Tiana had died first, falling to the floor, the poison taking her life. The air had been thick with emotion - grief, betrayal, confusion. And in the middle of it all, Amara had grabbed my hand, her grip shaking.

“Peter…” Her voice had been weak, barely a whisper.

She had complained of dizziness. A stomach ache and then there was blood.

So much blood.

She had been rushed to the physician, who told me there were complications from her childbirth. That something had been missed. That her body had been fighting it this whole time.

I hadn’t understood. She had been fine. She had recovered. She had held our child in her arms, had smiled, and had laughed.

But that night, she had gotten weaker. And weaker.

Until she never opened her eyes again.

And then, the next night, our baby—our son—had been perfectly fine when I put him to bed. He had been breathing. His tiny fingers had curled around mine as I held him close, and I whispered that we would get through this.

But by morning, he was gone, too.

Dead in his sleep.

They said it was natural. That infants sometimes just stopped breathing.

I had buried them both.

And now, six months later, I was standing in a dimly lit hall, heart pounding over a woman who should have meant nothing to me.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face.

The past was the past.

It had to be.

The torches in the hallway flickered, making long shadows on the stone walls. The smell of melted wax hung in the air, mixed with the damp smell that always seemed to be there.

But I didn't really notice. My mind was somewhere else, caught between memories and the present, between what was true and what might be a lie.

She felt familiar.

And now? Now, I am restless.

I found Theo on the balcony, staring out into the night. His shoulders were tense, and his grip on his cup was tight.

I stood beside him, and for a while, we didn't say anything. Then Theo spoke up, his voice quiet.

"She looks familiar," he said.

His voice was steady, but I could hear the tension underneath. It was like he was forcing himself to stay calm.

I let out a slow breath. "You think so too," I said.

Theo lifted his cup to his lips before answering. "The way she stood, the way she moved...for a second, I thought—" He stopped himself.

I didn't need him to finish. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Do you think you know her?" Theo asked, finally turning to face me.

I hesitated. "I'm not sure," I said.

Theo's sharp eyes studied me carefully. I held his gaze.

"We need to figure out who she is," Theo said.

I nodded, feeling determined. "Yeah. We do."

“The way she fights…” I exhaled, gripping the railing. “It reminded me of someone.”

Theo’s expression didn’t change, but I saw it. The tension. The way his jaw clenched slightly.

“Who?”

I swallowed. “Tiana.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Theo’s grip on his cup tightened—so hard I thought it might shatter.

“You’re mistaken,” he said. His voice was quieter now, but the words were firm.

I didn’t look away. “I know how it sounds.”

Theo’s knuckles turned white. “I saw her die, Peter. We both did.”

I exhaled. “I know.”

“Then why would you say that?” There was no anger in his voice, but there was something else. Something raw.

I hesitated, staring out at the dark courtyard. “Because it’s true.”

Theo let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tiana is dead.”

“I know.”

He turned away, shaking his head. “Then what are you saying? That this girl fights like her?”

"Yes." I stood up straighter, trying to process my thoughts. "But better. Stronger. Like she's been training for years, getting better at what she does. Like someone who had to get stronger just to survive."

Theo swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on me. His fingers dug into the stone railing, his grip tightening. Finally, he let out a slow breath.

"If that's true, then it's less likely she's Tiana," he said, his voice measured.

I clenched my jaw, feeling a mix of emotions. "I never said she was," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Theo's eyes turned darker, his gaze piercing. "But you think it," he said, his voice low.

I stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. Because yes, a small part of me did think it might be true. A small part of me wanted to believe it.

Theo let out a sharp breath, his expression frustrated. "Peter, if you keep chasing fantasies, you'll lose your mind," he said, his words blunt.

I rubbed my face, feeling a wave of exhaustion. "This isn't about fantasies," I said, trying to convince him.

"Then what is it about?" Theo asked, his voice firm.

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain. I couldn't tell him about the strong feeling I had. About the way something inside me told me this girl was important.

Because Theo didn't need false hope. Hope could be crueller than losing something. And I didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to raise his expectations only to crush them later.

So I stayed silent, trying to process my thoughts. Trying to figure out what to do next.

So instead, I said, “We need to find out the truth before the King makes a decision we can’t undo.”

Theo went quiet.

Then, finally, he nodded.