Rejected Luna Returns with Secret Twins (Lysandra) novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Lysandra’s world narrowed to a single point of focus–Tristan’s question about her scar. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat, making it impossible to lift her neck and look at her arm. Through the haze of pain, panic spread like wildfire. The scar that had remained invisible for years had somehow

become visible again.

Fragments of memory bombarded her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away.

“Lysandra.” His tone hardened, demanding an answer.

“I–I was attacked by a rogue wolf,” she mumbled, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. “When I woke

up… I’d lost that memory.”

His eyes narrowed, blood–red rim expanding around steel–blue irises. “What time-”

Engine sounds cut through the night, headlights sweeping across them as a vehicle approached. Tristan’s head snapped up, arms tightening protectively around her.

Why is this happening? The thought pulsed behind her eyes. All these years of hiding, and now…

A sleek black SUV skidded to a halt near them, followed by a medical van with Silverblood Pack’s emblem emblazoned on its side. Varian leapt from the driver’s seat, his usual composed demeanor shattered as he took in the scene–the mangled cars, his Alpha cradling his former Luna, blood mingling on their skin.

“What the hell?” Varian’s voice cracked with shock. “This is–what happened?”

Tristan ignored the question, already moving toward the SUV with Lysandra in his arms. His movements were jerky, tense, like a wolf barely contained within human skin.

“I–I need to check on my driver,” Lysandra managed, lifting a trembling hand toward her crushed car.

Varian intercepted them, holding the back door open. “Medical team’s got him. Don’t worry.”

As Tristan settled her into the backseat, her eyes sought the wreckage. Moonlight illuminated the medical team working frantically at her car, extracting her unconscious driver.

“He’s alive,” Varian confirmed, catching her panicked expression. “Breathing’s steady.”

The door slammed shut, cutting off her view. Tristan slid in beside her, his large frame dwarfing the spacious backseat. His breathing came in short, controlled bursts, as if fighting some internal battle.

Pain crashed through her skull–in–waves, making it impossible to think clearly. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness hovering at the edges of her vision.

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Chapter 68

***

Tristan stared at Lysandra’s face as Varian drove, cataloging each scrape and bruise illuminated by passing streetlights. Her skin had gone alarmingly pale, making the blood on her temple appear black by contrast.

His fingers moved to her arm, unthinking, tracing the curved scar again. The shape was so familiar it made his chest ache with recognition, yet he couldn’t place it. His wolf kept pushing insistently at his consciousness, urging him to remember something important.

She claims it was a rogue attack, but when? After she left my Pack? Because when she was with me, I never saw this scar on her body.

Lysandra’s breathing had steadied, but her brow remained furrowed even in unconsciousness.

She stirred slightly, a small whimper escaping her lips. Without thinking, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentler than he knew he was capable of.

I almost lost her. The realization hit him with unexpected force. If he’d been seconds later, if he hadn’t seen the car in time… The mere thought made his wolf howl with distress.

***

Medical staff had already assembled outside the hospital when they arrived, Dr. Rylan at the

forefront.

The moment Varian stopped the car, Tristan was moving, sliding out with Lysandra still cradled against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder, hair matted with blood where it had dried.

“Alpha, please,” a young nurse approached, pushing a silver stretcher. “We need to examine her properly.”

Tristan’s growl was so feral it sent the nurse stumbling backward. “I’ve got her.”

Dr. Rylan stepped forward, unfazed by the Alpha’s aggression. “Tristan, she needs the stretcher.”

For a moment, Tristan seemed ready to refuse, his arms tightening around Lysandra. Then, with visible reluctance, he lowered her onto the gleaming surface. The stretcher’s metal seemed to glow faintly where it made contact with her skin.

Dr. Rylan leaned over Lysandra, examining the head wound.

“She’ll need specialized stitching for the head wound,” he announced, already directing the team to move her inside. “And a full scan to check for internal injuries.”

Tristan followed, his tall frame looming behind the medical staff as they rushed through corridors.

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Only when they reached the treatment room doors did Dr. Rylan turn to block his path.

“You need to wait out here, Alpha.” His tone was respectful but firm. “We need space to work.”

The growl that built in Tristan’s chest died when Varian’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Let them do their job,” his Beta urged quietly.

The doors swung shut, leaving Tristan staring at smooth metal panels that separated him from Lysandra.

Thirty minutes crawled by like thirty years. Tristan paced the corridor outside the treatment room, each turn more agitated than the last. Blood had dried on his hands and face, but he seemed oblivious to his own injuries.

Varian watched him from a chair nearby, concern evident–in his usually guarded expression. “Alpha, you’re bleeding.”

Tristan glanced down as if noticing his cut hands for the first time. Shards of glass still protruded from his palm where he’d punched through the car window.

“It’s nothing.”

“Alpha, I know you’re a mighty Alpha who feels no pain,” Varian said dryly, “but glass fragments can

cause infection.”

Before Tristan could respond, a young healer approached hesitantly, medical kit in hand. Her eyes remained downcast as she waited for permission to treat the Alpha.

With an impatient nod, Tristan extended his hands, allowing her to extract glass and clean the wounds. Her fingers trembled slightly as she worked, clearly sensing the barely contained fury radiating from the Pack leader.