Chapter 135

-Alex's POV-

The concept of a Moon Goddess was a fairy tale to me, nothing more. Sure, the stories spun tales of her weaving destinies, forever binding two souls together. But fate, in my experience, was a cruel mistress. If such a being existed, she wouldn't have allowed what I'd endured under my father's iron fist. She wouldn't have snatched my mother away, leaving a gaping hole in my life. No, I didn't believe. Not until the moment the darkness claimed me.

The life drained out of me, replaced by a bone-chilling emptiness that threatened to suck me under. Then, nothing. Just pure, unadulterated blackness. The end, I figured. An eternity of nothingness stretching out before me like a never-ending blank canvas.

But then, light. Blinding, white-hot light that ripped through the suffocating darkness. I couldn't make out any clear shapes, but a flicker of familiarity washed over me, a feeling like recognition from a dream. Then came the falling, a seemingly endless descent that stretched time thin. Finally, a crushing pressure, a smothering sensation like I was drowning.

With a gasp, I ripped my eyes open. My hands instinctively flew to my chest, the place where the bullet had ripped through flesh and bone. But there was nothing. No pain, no gaping wound, just smooth, unmarked skin.

Healed.

Amaya. She was the first thing I registered, slumped in a corner of the room. Dried tear marks streamed down her dirt-streaked face, her eyebrows furrowed with worry even as she slept.

Then everything came flooding back. Memories, pictures flashing in my head one after another. I remembered calling out to her wolf, trying to connect with her, any way I could. It felt weak, shaky, the connection barely there. Strangely, I didn't need the wolves from my pack to find her but they had been a welcome distraction from the humans attention on me while I raced forward. And from the looks of it, they were finally getting some payback after weeks of being hunted down.

The weak connection with her wolf, that faint pull, led me somewhere an abandoned tunnel on the edge of the city. It took me right back to the spot where I shielded Amaya with my body, where I took the bullet for her.

I looked down at her again, her face peaceful as she slept. And in that moment, I knew without a doubt, that I would do it all again in a heartbeat. My feet found me moving, drawn out of the room and back into the main living area. A loud crash shattered the uneasy silence, and I whipped around to see Natalia frozen in place, her face etched with shock. A shattered coffee mug lay scattered at her feet.

"You are alive. How... are... you are alive?" Her voice was barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a tremor of something akin to fear.

through the tension. "Even death didn't want you," he said, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. But when I turned to face him, his eyes held

her eyes until they were almost comically large. She opened her mouth, no doubt to question the impossible sight before her, but the sound was cut short by the

You are alive?" Those were the most words she'd spoken to me in a week. Amaya avoided me like the plague, her conversations

children that I had no clue existed

- it all unraveled in a sickening display of his twisted agenda. That darkness I'd felt, the darkness I'd witnessed glimpses of - it was far more extensive than I'd ever imagined. And now, he had my children. As Amaya tearfully

had another

by Christian cemented the illusion. It was a strategy I'd readily agreed to. Operating from the shadows offered the

me and werewolf alpha that aligned with me within range was now scouring the earth for him, thanks to the official order issued through Christian. The charade was

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Chapter 135

sigh escaped me as I poured another glass of whiskey, the amber

"Trouble in paradise?"

voice cut through the silence. I turned my head to see a woman walking in. A woman who had been introduced as Sarah. The last member of their friendship group. A werewolf like us. I understood that they wanted to support Amaya. That was the only reason I let them

cursory glance, irritation simmering just below

were strangers, after all. Why was she even talking to

a glass, and poured herself a drink

back on the table and storm off when her

her words hanging heavy in the

I'm missing, some messed-up things that shaped you into this guy with trust issues so deep you couldn't spare three minutes to ask the woman you claimed to love if she betrayed you. Instead, you kicked her out when she was carrying your children. Then, years later, she walks back

wanted to tell her, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't know me and this wasn't any of her business. But her words echoed in my head, bouncing around like a pinball

an invitation to go on with her assault. "You're wrong, Alex," she continued, her voice firm but not unkind. "Wrong about everything. And I know men like you, with egos bigger than an entire country. You don't apologize, that much is clear. But all of this: whole mess - could have been avoided if you'd just talked to her from the

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