Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 207: Hired Assassins

3rd Person POV

I was choking with emotion but tried to mask it all away with a neutral face. "Yes?"

He looked at me, questioning with his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"You ran off earlier."

I tilted my head. "I had things to do."

He sighed deeply, running his hand across the back of his neck. ‘Yesterday, I—‘ He broke off, clenching his jaw. "Never mind."

I narrowed my eyes, waiting.

Nothing.

He wasn’t going to say it.

“Alright,” I replied without further objection and moved away. “If you are to continue this ‘never mind,’ you should go away.”

I thought that he would walk away but he did not. He moved closer and held my face slowly.

My eyes widened slightly, my vision fragmenting for half a second as something tore through me.

Not me.

Not Tiana.

Erika.

She was overtaking me once again.

She got angry like a storm, aggressive and relentless. A thirst so great she could hardly breathe. A sensation so profound, it scraped against the bones.

My breathing stuttered. My mental images became intertwined, compiled with other images of her life.

Not now. Not now.

Peter looked at me and raised his eyebrows, although it quickly contorted into a frown. "Talia?"

I made myself push Erika out, to make her stop before she could take over.

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

Turning around, I clutched the edge of the table as I had to hold myself up. I had to pull my eyelids close tightly; I was panting heavily.

This was getting worse.

And if I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose myself completely.

Suddenly a shrill sound of someone in despair shot through the air followed by s sickening thud. I stiffened instantly. Peter placed his hand on my shoulder, and neither of us moved after that. We barely even breathed.

The door next to us vibrated and groaned as someone or rather something crashed against it from their side.

It groaned with a slight opening, and a man fell down to the ground almost lifeless at the doorstep. The floor glistened red as blood welled out from around the wounds he had and pooled on the surface.

It was a palace guard.

His fingers trembled, his lips opened, and he gagged out blood. He struggled to utter a word and had only a croaky voice out of him. Then, barely above a whisper—

"They’re... inside."

There was a flicker of shadow in the hallway or what appeared to be a shadow under the dim light.

It was as I blinked my eyelids when I realized that a person in black clothes was coming out of the room. In their hand, a dagger was clutched as if it was permanently dyed in the blood.

They lunged.

By this time Peter dragged me back, alert and reflexive to say the least. My life was this close to being over and I had barely managed to realize that I was nearly killed before the sound of a metal hit, a groaning and a scream rang.

Peter fought like a man who fought for his livelihood in the duel a thousand times before. Controlled. Calculated. Deadly as a few more men trooper in.

I forced my body to move. His hand lay on the grip of his sword, although loosely, where he could quickly grab the sword when the need arose. I stretched my arm, and grasped it, not feeling the thick coating of blood on its steel material that I could feel on my hand.

Another figure.

It proceeded even quicker compared to the first. The knife rose high and I expected to see the blade stab me in the neck right on the neck.

Realizing that I could die and not be able to complete my mission, I deflected but still, it hit me. The strength of the blow made me wince in my arms but I continued to twist away from it. My opponent was not one to stay down for long and he was already coming for me again.

I was trained for this. I had been struggling not only to survive and look for any signs of life. But, for now, I was still completely breathless, different thoughts racing through my mind and unable to keep up with events.

This wasn’t a random attack. The palace was under siege.

I only managed to avoid the next blow. My opponent wielded his sword and it passed through the space near my face. I tried to hit them with my sword to hit their ribs but they dodged it at the last moment.

A thud.

Turning quickly to Peter, I caught the sight of him knocking the person attacking him violently against the wall. Something cracked. The man collapsed. Unmoving.

My distraction cost me.

It was painful and burning when I finally made a cut on my arm. I growled, inflicting a slice across her cheek, we backed away as I felt the warmth of blood seeping through my face. My opponent seized an opportunity to attack me and charged at me once more.

I didn’t think—I reacted.

I bent down slightly and tightened my grasp on the sword and swung the hilt at their abdomen. And they hesitated momentarily. It was enough.

Peter was already moving. He thrust his dagger into the chest of the attacker who had now been captured from behind.

A sharp inhale. A choked gasp.

Then silence.

I stood there, my breathing becoming fast, and heard my heart pound in my chest as I looked at the two corpses at our feet. The air smelled like blood. All the stones were covered with a layer of it.

Peter crouched down and examined the emblem on the cloak of one of the men. Nothing. No house sigils. No markings.

"This wasn’t an outside attack," Peter said, scrutinizing it. He stood up straight and cracked his muscles. "This was an inside job. But who and why?" He muttered almost to himself.