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.

her pocket. Her eyes were softer now, but there was an edge of determination in her voice as she spoke. “He said he’ll handle it. Jeremy’s going

together, but they kept slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Ivan’s car, but I stopped dead in my tracks, shaking my head. “No. I don’t want anything from him. Please… call a cab. I don’t want

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

blur into a haze. The world seemed to be spinning out of control, and all I wanted was to escape, to numb the ache inside me. Grayson’s words echoed relentlessly in my mind, each one like a slap to the face.

nothing

173

Chapter 118

86%1

tentative. “Come on, I’m

and detached, played over and over in my head. “He said… he said he was going to ask

reached over, her hand warm and comforting on mine. “Oh,

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…

out of me, raw and honest, as I wiped

my place. Take us somewhere else.” I rattled off the address of

you should come to

going to the bar. I don’t want to go to your place. Not

a mix of concern and acceptance. “Okay.

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

low hum of conversations and clinking glasses wrapping around me

he asked, his voice flat and impersonal.

caring what it was, as

know you’re hurting, but I don’t think this is the right way to handle

ignored her, my eyes fixed on the amber liquid the bartender placed before me. It shimmered in the dim light, promising temporary relief. I took a long sip, the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat, chasing away some of the tightness in

of my pain blurred, faded, until it felt like I was floating in a numb haze. The anger, the betrayal–they seemed far away now, replaced with a quiet numbness that I welcomed, even