Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins (Lysandra) novel Chapter 202

Chapter 202

*Stand,” Tristan commanded, his voice cutting through the silence of the coffee shop.

Everyone immediately straightened, yet no one dared meet his eyes. The tension rigid, their gazes fixed on anything but the imposing figure before them.

in

the room was suffocating as customers and staff alike stood

Tristan’s jaw tightened as he surveyed the room. “If I hear any more whispering, he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, ‘111 personally cut out your tongues.”

A collective shiver ran through the young werewolves. The reputation of Tristan Wolfbane–the ‘coldest Alpha–was legendary, and none wanted to test whether the rumors of his ruthlessness were exaggerated. They quietly returned to their seats, suddenly finding their phones and magazines fascinating.

Despite his harsh words, something seemed off about Tristan today. As he turned back toward Lysandra, she caught a flicker of something unexpected in his eyes–was that guilt? Uncertainty? It vanished so quickly she couldn’t be sure, but it was definitely at odds with the Tristan she knew.

Eleanor approached with a deep bow. “Thank you for your order, Alpha,” she said, her voice slightly trembling.

“Your gratitude means nothing to me,” Tristan replied, his tone surprisingly less icy than usual.

Eleanor blinked, taken aback by his unusual demeanor. Typically, Alpha Tristan’s responses were cutting and dismissive, but today there was something almost… human in his voice.

After a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, Tristan spoke again. “Give your employee the day off.”

“Lysandra?” Eleanor asked, seeking confirmation.

“Yes,” Tristan replied simply.

Eleanor glanced at Lysandra, who was frantically shaking her head behind Tristan’s back. But under the Alpha’s steady gaze, Eleanor didn’t dare refuse. “Of course,” she answered with a forced smile.

Lysandra closed her eyes in anger. She couldn’t make a scene here–not with so many witnesses–but inwardly she was seething. How dare he waltz in and disrupt my life again? Yet even as rage bubbled within her, confusion tempered it. This wasn’t the same cold, commanding Tristan she remembered. His usual sharp edge seemed dulled today, his movements lacking their typical predatory grace.

Tristan turned to face her, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he gently took her wrist–not the forceful grip she’d expected, but something almost… careful. “Let’s go,” he said.

Lysandra pulled her arm away. “No,” she said firmly, though she kept her voice low. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Then something unexpected happened.

He winced suddenly, his hand flying to his chest. His breathing became labored, and he leaned heavily against the counter beside them.

“Tristan?” Lysandra’s medical training kicked in instantly, overriding her anger. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he managed through gritted teeth, but his face had paled considerably. “Just… need a minute.”

Eleanor rushed forward. “Alpha, should I call someone?”

“No,” he snapped, then seemed to regain/some control. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “It’ll pass.”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully. As a doctor, she’d seen plenty of cardiac episodes–and something about this one didn’t quite add up. His pulse, visible at his neck, wasn’t racing the way it should be during a real attack. His color, while paler than normal, hadn’t

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Chapter 202

taken on the gray tinge characteristic of serious cardiac distress.

“You’re faking,” she whispered so only he could hear.

The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, “Prove it,” he murmured back, then winced again more dramatically.

Lysandra fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Fine,” she sighed loudly. “I’ll take you to get checked out. But I’m driving you straight to the hospital.

“No hospitals,” Tristan said quickly, straightening slightly. “I just need some air. And my medication is in the car.

As they walked toward the exit, Lysandra noticed several young

rewolves snapping photos with their phones. Tristan seemed utterly unconcerned, and she had no time to stop them from uploading the images. By tomorrow, rumors would be flying across pack social media.

Outside the coffee shop, Tristan released her wrist and slowed his pace, allowing her to walk beside him rather than dragging her along. The change was subtle but significant. As soon as they were out of sight of the café windows, his ‘symptoms mysteriously improved.

“That was low, even for you,” Lysandra muttered.

“It worked, didn’t it?” There was no remorse in his voice, but neither was there the usual cold satisfaction.

“Alpha, Lysandra asked, confusion evident in her voice, “where are you taking me?”

Tristan didn’t answer immediately. His mind raced with uncertainty about how to explain his sudden appearance, how to begin addressing the misunderstandings between them. He only knew he needed to speak with her privately, to apologize for his past mistakes. But the words wouldn’t come–not yet.

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