Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 284

Drystan’s POV

A storm broke loose inside me the moment I turned away from Astrid.

My feet moved without thought, each step heavier than the last, and I didn’t care where I was going — I just needed to leave. To get away from the weight of her words, her rejection.

The sound of my boots pounding against the earth drowned out the distant voices behind me, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the roar in my chest.

I passed through the pack’s courtyard in a blur, the cold night air biting against my skin, but I barely noticed. I only had one thing in mind — distance. I needed to get away from everything.

"Drystan!" Damien’s voice cut through the air, sharp with confusion. I had no choice but to walk past through them to leave the Pack.

"What the hell is going on?” He asked out loud, sensing the tension gripping my entire body.

I ignored him. My jaw clenched so tightly I could feel the muscles strain. I heard their footsteps quicken, coming up behind me.

Damien, Killian, and a few others stood in curiosity, watching me. Their surprise was evident, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Not even for them.

Killian caught up first, his brow furrowed in concern. “Drystan, wait — what happened? Where are you going?” His voice was firm, a mixture of authority and confusion.

I glanced at him, just enough to see the question burning in his eyes. I stilled, my hands clenching tightly as I stared at him.

For a moment, I considered it — saying what had been building inside me for so long, letting him bear the weight of everything I had been holding in. The rejection. The frustration. The pain that Astrid’s words had left behind.

It was his fault. All of this. Astrid’s coldness, her distance—it all traced back to him.

To the way he treated her, the way he never truly valued what he had. If it weren’t for him, maybe Astrid wouldn’t be so guarded, so broken.

Maybe she could have loved me the way I loved her. Maybe… maybe I wouldn’t be standing here now, with this bitterness clawing its way out of my chest.

I opened my mouth to speak, to hurl those words at him, to make him understand what he had done.

My chest tightened, the anger rising, threatening to spill out in ways I wasn’t sure I could control. But as I stared at him — his confusion, his concern— something stopped me.

So I shut my mouth. I let the words wither and die on my tongue. I turned my back on him, the weight of silence heavier than anything I could have said.

“Where is Astrid?” Killian shouted after me.

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t owe him anything — least of all an explanation. The rage that twisted inside me like a violent storm was too much, too dangerous.

Words would only make it worse. So I kept walking, my boots crunching against the gravel, their voices fading into the background as I reached my car.

My hand shook as I pulled the keys from my pocket, but I didn’t care. The engine roared to life, loud and angry, echoing the fury that burned inside me.