The Alpha King's Contracted Luna by Nelson Claudia

Chapter 245

Chapter 245

-Ava’s POV-

People say

all is fair in love and war.

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But this wasn’t fair.

This wasn’t fair at all.

I stood frozen, staring between the ever–growing pool of blood pooling underneath my father on the ground and Grayson- Grayson, who had just taken an arrow to the heart to save me.

He had crashed to the ground.

He wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t moving.

Crystal let out a soft, breathy laugh, as if she were admiring a piece of art rather than the destruction she had caused. She tilted her head, her cold, calculating eyes scanning the scene before landing on me.

“This is way much better.”

Her lips curved into a final, cruel smile before she stepped backward, vanishing into the shadows as if she had never been there at all.

Move, Ava. Move.

I couldn’t.

I stood there, my breath shallow, my limbs frozen, my heart slamming violently against my ribs as if it were trying to break free. My mind screamed at me to do something–to move, to act, to help–but all I could do was stare.

My father.

Or the man I loved.

My father, who lay motionless with a blade embedded in his chest, the hilt dark with blood. His breathing was shallow–if he was breathing at all. The man who had raised me no matter how much I had hated it, still hated it, who had shaped me into the person I was, who had always seemed so untouchable, was now unconscious, his life slipping away before my eyes.

And Grayson.

Grayson, whose body lay twisted where he had fallen, his clothes soaked in crimson, his face pale. His strong, unyielding hands that had always held me steady, now slack at his sides. His heart–oh Goddess, his heart–an arrow protruding from his chest, as if the universe itself had decided to rip him from me in the cruelest way possible.

Move, Ava!

A choked sob tore through my throat as I stumbled forward, my legs weak beneath me.

I dropped to my knees beside my father first, my shaking hands hovering uselessly over the wound in his chest. Blood. So much blood. The blade was still lodged there, dark and glistening, mocking me. My fingers trembled as I pressed them against his throat, searching–praying–for a pulse.

There. Faint. Weak.

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Tears blurred my vision as I sucked in a ragged breath. “Dad?” My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper, “Please, please wake up.

Nothing.

I let out a strangled cry, my hands clutching at him, as if holding him would somehow stop the life from slipping away.

Then–Grayson.

crawling toward him, my fingers slipping in the blood–soaked ground. My stomach lurched. I couldn’t think. I

My voice was

He didn’t move.

reached for him, my fingers gripping his torn, bloodied shirt,

Still nothing.

against his chest, just above the wound. His body was still warm, his

die,” I whispered, my voice

Footsteps.

them over the roaring in

Someone shouted.

registering the figures rushing toward us. My vision swam, my body numb, my mind unable to process anything except the overwhelming terror sinking its claws

I saw her.

My mother.

She froze.

my mother–the woman who had always been composed, always in control, always

between my father and Grayson, the color draining from her

hands. “Please stay with me,” I begged, my tears falling

beside me. “Ava-”

snapped, my

at me, then at Grayson, before she turned and ran, her voice carrying through the air as she

my fingers pressing against Grayson’s blood–soaked shirt. “Just hold on,” I murmured,

I stayed there.

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Time had stopped.

existed was Grayson’s shallow breathing and

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I felt Elaine’s hands on my shoulders, trying to pull me

was raw, “No, I need

her own voice shaking. “They need

I blinked.

on me, trying to move

I need–he needs-”

My mother’s voice cut through the

I turned.

mine, and for the first

Tears.

mother was

a doctor. I was a doctor. We should be able to do something.

I could do was

lifted him, as his blood dripped

couldn’t hold on.

and I barely registered the voices shouting over each other. I couldn’t even tell who they belonged to. Everything felt

my hands, under my nails, staining the fabric of my clothes. My father’s blood too.

body sagged as they carried him away, his head lolling to the side, the blade still buried in his chest. My mother just…

didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

there, her hands still covered in his blood, her expression vacant. My mother–always composed, always cold, always in control–looked utterly lost. Like she

up so fast my knees buckled. I barely caught myself.

need to go.”

voice was sharp, urgent, but I

focus on the person holding me. Everything was too bright and too dark at the same

rang in the distance. More shouting. But it was like

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Chapter 245

voice snapped again. “We have to leave,

I didn’t move.

as the men

voice

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