Alpha King Chases Abandoned Luna

Chapter 135

The Alpha King is unavailable 135

The sudden ring of her phone broke the silence. Olivia turned away from the window and reached into her purse, pulling out her phone. She glanced at the screen before answering.

"Hello?” Her voice was soft, controlled despite the emotional turmoil I knew was raging inside her.

I watched as her expression shifted, a flicker of something-pain? hope?-crossing her features.

"Yes, Clara. I understand. I'll come right away," she said, her voice catching slightly. "Thank you for calling."

She ended the call and stared at her phone for a moment, her knuckles white from gripping it too tightly.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle.

"That was Clara Wilkins from the Howling Clay Pottery Studio," Olivia explained, her emerald eyes meeting mine briefly. "She said Lily's... Lily's mug is ready for collection."

I noticed how her voice trembled when she mentioned her daughter's name. The raw grief was

still so fresh.

"Would you like me to take you there?" I offered, already signaling to Thomas Griffin to change

our route.

Olivia nodded, her wolf's scent shifting with a complex mixture of emotions-grief, longing, and something like determination.

"Yes, please," she whispered. "I'd like to go now."

(Olivia's POV)

The bell above the door of Howling Clay Pottery Studio chimed softly as we entered. The

familiar scent of clay and glazes filled my nostrils, bringing with it a flood of memories-Lily's

small hands covered in clay, her tongue poking out in concentration as she worked.

Clara Wilkins looked up from behind the counter, her kind face lighting up with recognition.

a special way with the

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you could come quickly," she said, wiping her hands on her apron

Clara didn't know. Of course

to bring myself to tell this kind

my pain as she reached beneath the counter. "Two whole months she worked on this mug. Most pups her age

to be perfect for her father's birthday.

placed the mug in my hands. It was small and slightly lopsided, clearly made by a child's inexperienced hands. The bright colors were unevenly applied,

drawing on the side-three stick figures holding hands. A family

had spent two months making

and Emma to even acknowledge

at the

felt Lucas's hand on my shoulder, steadying

taking such good care of it," I

precious mug.

my distress, quickly thanked Clara and

after us. “I miss my

Artisan Street, the cool evening air hit

I clutched the wrapped mug

to

for him," I whispered, my voice

And he never

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broke free. I wept

even his-while our daughter, his flesh and blood, died without ever knowing

me into his arms. His embrace was warm,

sorry, Olivia," he murmured against my hair. "Your daughter

(Ethan's POV)

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