Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 192: A Sad Story

Tiana's POV

The warriors’ quarters were quieter than usual when I returned. Most of the fighters had either gone to train or were spending their evening in the common hall, drinking and boasting about their battles. That worked in my favour—I wasn’t in the mood to deal with their glares or whispered insults tonight. My mind was still tangled in the memory of Elara and Theo, in the realization of just how dangerously close I had come to exposure.

I pushed open the door to my small room and froze.

Peter was standing there.

He leaned against the wooden frame of the window, his broad arms crossed over his chest. The dim torchlight from the corridor cast deep shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable. But his eyes were locked onto me, assessing.

Something about the way he looked at me made my pulse jump. Not out of fear. But because it felt like he was peeling me apart, layer by layer, searching for something beneath my skin.

I shut the door behind me, keeping my posture casual, though my heart hadn’t settled yet. "You’re in my room," I pointed out, lifting a brow. "Should I be worried?"

He didn’t react to my teasing. Instead, his gaze swept over me slowly, taking in the slight dampness of my hair, and the faint dust on my boots that were clues that I’d been somewhere I shouldn’t have been.

"Where were you?" He asked me.

I met his gaze evenly. "I took a walk."

"A walk," he repeated, his tone flat.

I tilted my head, giving him an innocent look. "Is that a crime?"

Peter didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at me for a bit too long, his fingers twitching slightly against his arm as if debating something. Then he exhaled, shaking his head. "Be careful," he said quietly. "You might think no one’s watching you, but they are. There are people looking for an excuse to tear you down. Don’t give them one."

Something in his voice made my chest tighten. It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning out of genuine concern for me.

I swallowed, nodding slowly. "I know."

Peter studied me for another moment before pushing off the wall. He looked like he was about to leave, but something made me hesitate. This was my chance.

If I wanted information, if I wanted to secure my place here, I needed to get close to someone with power. And Peter… Peter was the perfect choice.

Unlike Theo, he had no mate holding him back. No reason to keep his distance. And though part of me felt a flicker of guilt—was I betraying Amara?—I shoved the thought away.

The pack had betrayed me first.

Even Amara never stood up for me when I needed her the most.

I glanced at Peter tentatively, softening my expression. I needed him to see me as harmless. As someone he could trust.

"Can I ask you something?" I said carefully.

Peter’s brows furrowed. "What?"

I hesitated, biting my lip just enough hesitation to make it look unintentional. Then I gave him a small, almost shy smile. "I don’t mean to make you angry, or bring up things that might hurt you, but…" I trailed off.

Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly. "But?"

I took a breath, keeping my voice gentle. "I know our Gamma, your mate died the same day as the old Luna. But I never really knew how."

Peter stiffened, his shoulders going rigid.

For a second, I thought he might walk out.

I quickly added, "I just… I’ve heard different things. Some people said she was poisoned like the Luna, others—" I cut myself off and shook my head. "Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked."

I made a move to step back as if withdrawing the question.

Peter exhaled sharply. "It’s fine."

I blinked, hiding my surprise. I hadn’t expected him to answer.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking toward the window for a long moment before finally speaking. "She wasn’t poisoned," he said quietly. "She had a breech birth."

Peter’s voice was eerily calm, but I could see the way his fingers curled slightly, the tension in his jaw. "The complications weren’t noticed for a long time," he continued. "Not until it was too late. She went into a crisis. And…" He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "She didn’t make it through the night."

I swallowed hard.

"And the baby?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

His lips pressed together as if steeling himself against the memory. "I guess our son loved his mother too much," he said softly. "Because he chose to be by her side the next morning."

A lump formed in my throat.

I had expected anger. I had expected grief, maybe even resentment. But I hadn’t expected this.

This quiet, devastating sorrow.

Peter wasn’t the kind of man to wear his emotions openly. But it was there. In the way he stood, the way he spoke.

A small part of me, the part that still felt guilt, still felt human aches for him.

But I couldn’t let that weakness stop me.

I needed to keep going.

I let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking, my voice softer now. "I’m sorry."

Peter looked at me then, and something flickered in his expression. Something guarded. "Don’t be," he said simply. "It was a long time ago."

A lie.

It hadn't been long since Peter had been hurt. He was still suffering, even if he didn't show it. This told me something important: Peter wasn't just a tough warrior. He might have tried to put on an exterior of being cold, hard and unfeeling but I knew that he was still hurting deep down.

That facade he tried to put on in the presence of everyone, I could see right through it.

If I could find the right way to reach him, maybe I could get closer to him. I nodded slightly. "It must have been hard for you," I said quietly.