The Alpha King's Contracted Luna by Nelson Claudia

Chapter 113

Ava’s POV

“Lilian, what is going on? Why are you crying?”

Isabella’s voice cut through the fog of despair that had consumed me, her hands gripping my shoulders, trying to steady me. I could barely see through the tears blurring my vision, but I didn’t need to look to know what had just shattered me. The words I had overheard moments ago echoed like a cruel drumbeat in my mind, relentless and unforgiving:

Ava Pierce means nothing to me.

I should have known, shouldn’t I? Every tender word, every tough, every promise of something real–it was all just a facade. A well–crafted illusion to keep me in line, to keep me tethered while he clung to the one thing that really mattered to him: that damn contract. The one that kept me bound to him, never ruly free. I had been blind, foolish. And now I was paying for it.

“Lilian! What the hell happened? Did Grayson do something?” Isabella’s voice was sharper now, tinged with anger, and I could hear her turning toward the house, ready to march in and confront him.

I reached out instinctively, my trembling hand catching her arm, stopping her in her tracks. My voice was barely a whisper, thick with the sobs I couldn’t seem to hold back. “Can you please call Rickon? Ask him to help us get Jeremy. He has resources… He can help…”

Isabella’s gaze searched mine, her expression shifting from concern to confusion. “What happened in there?” she asked, her voice hardening as she demanded an answer.

I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye. The shame, the anger, the hurt–they all mingled together, choking me. “Please,” I said, my voice a raw plea. “Just call him. Tell him what happened. I don’t care about the man, just please… ask him to help Jeremy. Please.”

There was a moment of hesitation, a flash of uncertainty in Isabella’s eyes, before she sighed and nodded. Without a word, she pulled out her phone and stepped aside, dialing Rickon. I turned away, my gaze locking onto the looming estate in the distance. It used to feel like home. A sanctuary. But now, it felt more like a prison.

He didn’t even come after me. Not even when I walked away. Not even when I needed him most.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I could feel my resolve hardening. I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. Never again.

edge of determination in her voice as she spoke. “He said he’ll handle it. Jeremy’s going to be fine. But… Lilian, will you please just tell

the shattered pieces of my heart together, but they kept slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

her hand gently pulling me toward Ivan’s car, but I stopped dead in my tracks, shaking my head. “No.

to call a cab. The silence between us was deafening, heavy with the weight of the unspoken. Isabella’s concern was evident, but she didn’t press me, respecting my space as we made our way to the gates

the window, watching the scenery blur into a haze. The world seemed to

mean nothing to

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Isabella’s voice broke the silence, low and tentative. “Come on, I’m dying here. What happened?

chest unbearable. Grayson’s voice, cold and detached, played over and over in my head. “He said… he said he was going to ask me

caught, and she reached over, her hand warm and comforting on mine. “Oh, honey…” she whispered, the sympathy in her voice only deepening

like a storm. “I can’t believe I was this stupid. He’s been gaslighting me from the ve start, and I chose to look past it. I made excuses for him, for everything he did. I let him manipulate me. And now I’m paying for it… again. I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired

tumbled out of me, raw and honest, as

somewhere else.” I rattled off the address of a bar, a place where could just drown the pain, even

me a concerned look. “I don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe you should come to my place

I was resolute. “No. We’re going to the bar. I don’t want to go

of concern and

the bar, its neon sign flickering in the fading light of the evening. The kind of place where no one

the door, I walked inside, the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses wrapping around me like a shroud. I made a beeline for the bar, slipping onto a stool and signaling to the

I get you?” he asked, his voice flat

it was, as long

with worry. “I know you’re hurting, but I don’t think this is the

light, promising temporary relief. I took a long

it felt like I was floating in a numb haze. The anger, the betrayal–they seemed far away now, replaced with a quiet