Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 203: Losing My Mind

Peter’s POV

I needed to get out of there.

The moment I left Talia’s room, my pulse was still pounding in my ears, my skin buzzing with the ghost of her touch, my lips raw from the way she had kissed me back. And my mind—my goddamn mind—refused to let go of it.

I ran down the hallway in the darkness, the walls closing in, everything feeling too tight, too suffocating. My vision blurred, my fists clenched at my sides, my grip on my shirt so tight it felt like I was trying to shake myself out of whatever the hell I had just stepped into. Unfortunately, it was something I couldn’t come back from.

What the hell was that?

Talia had been chipping away at me for weeks, testing my limits, poking around the edges of my resolve, trying to undo me piece by piece, trying to break me. And I had resisted before. Hadn’t I?

But I kissed her.

No, it was more or less like I lost control and she let me, then she pulled away.

This isn’t real, she had said.

I clenched my jaw in anger as I remembered how she had looked at me like I was something fragile. Like she was afraid she had broken something in me that couldn’t be fixed.

Maybe she had.

And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I wanted to be fixed.

Because for just one brief moment, I had felt something other than grief. Other than anger. Other than the hollow ache of losing everything I had ever loved. Her lips against mine, the heat of her skin, the way she had clung to me like I was something she needed as well and she could not control that need. That had made me feel alive.

And that scared the hell out of me.

I breathed in, filling my lungs with the damp scent of earth and metal as I stepped through the doors leading to the training grounds, the cool night air hitting me. The fire-scented smoke mixed with the damp earth, grounding me. It didn’t do a damn thing to quiet the fury burning in my head.

The training grounds were nearly empty now, only the torches lining the edges casting flickering light onto the worn-down mats. The palace was silent. Most of the warriors had gone to sleep.

I couldn’t sleep.

I hadn’t been able to for weeks.

Not since she had first hugged me, not since she made me feel things I had no right feeling, and now that I kissed her...

Slowly, I breathed in, rolling my shoulders as I tightened my grip on the wooden training sword in my hands. The feeling twisting inside me was something I couldn’t name—not because I lacked experience with a weapon, but because, for the first time in a long time, I had no idea what the hell I was fighting against.

Or maybe I did.

And I just didn’t want to face it.

“You’re tense.”

I turned at the sound of Theo’s voice.

The Alpha son of Shadowclaw leaned against the door to the sparring ring, arms crossed, his expression nearly unreadable. He wasn’t in the formal robes he usually wore—just a simple black shirt and loose athletic trousers. His dark hair, slightly curly, looked like it had been raked through with his hands more than a few times.

He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

I exhaled sharply. “Didn’t realize I had company.”

Theo jogged toward me, tilting his head back. “You’ve been beating that dummy like it personally offended you. Thought you might need a real opponent.”

I let out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You coming?”

Theo smirked, grabbing a training sword from the rack. “Unless you’d rather keep brooding in silence.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I raised my sword, inviting him.

He took his stance.

And then he lunged.

We clashed, the impact jolting my arms. Theo had no mercy. He never had. He fought like a man with something to lose.

I pressed him hard, forcing my mind to focus on the fight; the rhythm of steel, breath, and footwork. It didn’t work. My thoughts slipped, circling back to her.

Talia.

The way she had looked at me.

The way she had touched me.

My grip tightened. I swung harder. Theo blocked quickly, stepping back, his eyes narrowing. “You good?”

I exhaled through my nose, adjusting my hold. “Fine.”

Theo snorted. “You’re a terrible liar.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I came at him again, forcing him into a defensive stance. We moved fast and fluidly, repeating a motion of swing, block, parry, counter.

Theo saw my distraction, I mean he always did.

And he took advantage of it.

With a sharp feint, he knocked my blade aside and swept a foot behind my ankle. I hit the ground hard, the breath leaving my lungs in a sharp whine.

For a second, I just lay there, staring up at the night sky. The stars blurred, my vision clouding with images of her. The taste of her was still in my mouth. The scent of her still clung to my skin.

Theo pointed his sword at my chest, brow raised. “You done pretending you’re fine?”

I glared up at him, breath heaving.

I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to say her name. But how the hell was I supposed to explain it? How was I supposed to admit that a girl who I barely knew had been slipping in and out of my brain, into my flesh—untying something in me that I didn’t know was still there?

How was I supposed to tell my best friend that after all of this; after losing Amara, after burying my son—I had allowed someone else in?

Because that’s what scared me the most.

Not that I wanted Talia.

But that I already had her.

And I didn’t know how to let her go.

I swallowed hard, turning my head to the side. “It’s nothing.”

Theo sighed, stepping back and offering me a hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just studied me for a long moment before shaking his head.

“Whatever it is,” he said quietly, “don’t let it eat you alive.”

I didn’t answer.

Because it already was.