Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins (Lysandra) novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173

His powerful frame filled the space, radiating authority and control. Blood still stained his shirt from the battle, but his posture remained undiminished, unbowed. Varian and several officials stood behind him, their expressions wary.

The atmosphere in the room instantly electrified. I instinctively moved to shield the twins, but to my shock, Lyra broke free of my grasp and ran toward Tristan.

“It’s you! The ice cream hero!” she exclaimed, skidding to a stop in front of him, her face beaming up at him.

Something shifted in Tristan’s expression–the hard edges softening almost imperceptibly as he looked down at our daughter. He knelt on one knee, bringing himself to her level.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “You’re not hurt?”

Lyra shook her head, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “I wasn’t scared at all. I knew you wouldn’t let the bad wolves hurt us. Without hesitation, she reached out and touched his face with her tiny hand. “I knew you were a good uncle.”

I remained frozen in place, while Orion’s expression grew increasingly complex. He stood halfway between me and Tristan, obviously torn between contradictory instincts–part of him drawn to the man, part keeping his distance.

“Will you stay with us now?” Lyra asked eagerly. “I like you. You’re strong!”

A hint of a smile tugged at Tristan’s mouth. “I’ll be staying, because now I have a responsibility to take care of all of you.”

“Really?” Orion asked, hope and wariness battling in his voice. “Like a dad would?”

The air in the room turned thick, almost suffocating. I watched in horror, waiting for Tristan’s response.

“More important than that,” he replied, his voice firm and sincere. “I’ll protect you the way I protect everything that belongs to me.”

Lyra clapped her hands in delight, while Orion’s expression turned contemplative. His gaze on Tristan shifted subtly–no longer rejection but cautious acceptance.

He returned to my side, but his eyes remained on Tristan. “Mom,” he whispered, “I feel weird. Like I… know him from somewhere.”

After the medical staff stabilized Alaric as much as possible, Tristan turned to me. “We need to talk.”

The hallway outside provided relative privacy. The moment we left the children’s sight, Tristan’s expression hardened, all traces of gentleness

vanishing.

“They’re my children,” he stated bluntly, his voice low and dangerous. “My blood. You hid them from me for five years.”

I straightened my spine, facing his anger directly, “What right do you have to be indignant? I remember your disgust during the rejection ceremony perfectly well.”

“You falsified DNA test results,” he continued, advancing toward me step by step. “This isn’t just deception, Lysandra. It’s theft–you stole my right to be their father.”

“I protected them!” I shot back. “Protected them from a father who never wanted them in the first place!*

“Never wanted?” Tristan’s voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “How dare you presume to know my mind?”

I’d pushed him too far. The words had barely left my mouth when something in his eyes shifted–that carefully controlled mask slipping to

1/2

Chapter 173

reveal raw fury beneath. Before I could step back, he moved with that supernatural speed I’d forgotten he possessed.

In one fluid motion, he swept me off my feet and into his arms. My body crashed against his chest, his arm locked firmly around my walst. The sudden contact knocked the breath from my lungs.

“Put me down!” I hissed, twisting in his grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He ignored me completely, striding down the hospital corridor with purposeful steps. My struggles only made him tighten his grip. Pack members flattened themselves against the walls as we passed, eyes wide with alarm but not daring to interfere with their new Alpha.

My fingers dug into his shoulders for balance, inadvertently sinking into the muscle. I felt him wince slightly–right where my claws had torn into him hours earlier–but he didn’t slow down.

“This is ridiculous,” I spat, acutely aware of the scene we were creating. “I can walk, for God’s sake.”

He kicked open a door at the end of the hall and stepped inside. Only when the door swung shut behind us did he finally set me down, though his hand remained locked around my wrist with bruising force.

In one swift movement, he turned and locked the door with his free hand. We stood barely an arm’s length apart, the tension between us crackling like electricity.