The Alpha King's Contracted Luna by Nelson Claudia

-Ava’s POV-

| really should have chosen my words more carefully. What | should have said was, He used to be one of men.But

no, | had to blurt out something vague and open-ended like a fool.

my

father’s

The thing was, my parents never letassociate with most pack members, especially not the omegas or

warriors. They were insistent on maintaining sridiculous notion of superiority, tellingthat as the Alpha’s

daughter, | had to hold myself high at all times. | wasn’t supposed to mingle with those they deemed beneath

me.

For most of my life, | did exactly as they said, too afraid to push back against their strict, suffocating rules. It

wasn't until | met Isabella and started to find my own voice-my own backbone-that | dared to defy them. | began

to get to know the pack members, realizing that they weren't “beneath” me. They were people-strong, capable,

and often kinder than my parents ever were.

That's how | vaguely remembered the man. I'd seen him around a handful of times when | was younger, but it

had been years since then. The memory of his face was fuzzy, buried under layers of tand my parents’

attempts to keepdisconnected from everyone.

And yet, here | was, standing in front of Grayson, trying to explain that he was making a mistake.

The moment those words left my lips-1 know that man. He’s one of my father’s men-I saw Grayson'’s expression

shift. The cold, calculated anger he carried morphed into something far more dangerous. The muscles in his jaw

tightened, and his eyes darkened like storm clouds ready to unleash fury.

In that instant, | knew what he was thinking. He was going to go after my father.

“Grayson, you're not listening to me!” | practically shouted, yanking at my hair in frustration. My voice echoed in

the tense, blood-scented room. “My father didn’t do this. For the hundredth time, he didn’t do this!”

Grayson'’s glare didn’t waver. “And how do you know that, Ava? Are you sure you're not just blinded by loyalty?”

“I'm sure,” | snapped back, stepping closer to him, close enough to see the tension in his shoulders. “My father

has an obsession with appearances. You know that. He's not going to stage an attack, get himself nearly killed,

and then go on a murder spree just to throw people off his trail. What could he possibly stand to gain?”

Grayson didn’t flinch. His voice was low, deadly. “You're not thinking this through. If your father isn’t behind this,

then why does his man turn up here in the middle of this bloodbath?*.

“And you're not thinking it through either!” | shouted back, my voice breaking slightly. “Just because he used to

work for my father doesn’t mean my father sent him!”

Rickon, standing off to the side, cleared his throat. “Maybe we should all just... take a minute to calm down. My

chef is world- class, by the way. He could whip something up real quick to ease the tension.”

| turned to him, incredulous. “Rickon, are you serious right now

“What?” he said with a shrug, completely unfazed. “I'm trying to help.”

Isabella groaned. “Do you have to brag about everything? Couldn't you just say, my chef can make sornething?”

Rickon smirked, turning to her. “Do you have to complain about everything | say?”

“Guys, enough!” | snapped, spinning back toward Grayson, who looked even more furious now.

“You're always so eager to defend your father,” Grayson said, his voice like ice. “Maybe | should just let you go

back to him if you're so determined to shield him.”

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Chapter 95

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His words hitlike a punch to the chest. The hurt must have shown on my face because he hesitated, his eyes

softening for just a moment.

Grayson let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Ava,” he muttered under his

breath. Then, realizing that Rickon and Isabella were watching us, he turned to them with a glare. “This isn't a

show. Leave us.”

Rickon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But if you need me, I'll be... not here.” He glanced at Isabella,

who reluctantly followed him out of the room, though she shota worried look before leaving.

Once we were alone, Grayson exhaled sharply and said, “Let’s just go home.”

I shook my head, crossing my arms. “No.”

“Ava,” he said, his voice gentler now. He reached for my hand, but | yanked it away.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you right now,” | said firmly.

Grayson'’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, | thought he might lethave my way. But then, in true Grayson

fashion, he decided otherwise.

Without warning, he grabbed my hand again, ignoring my protests as he draggedout of the room. “We're

leaving. Now.”

Once we stepped outside into the cool night air, | pulled my hand free, glaring at him. “Stop it, Grayson!”

We stood there, locked in a battle of wills, the tension crackling between us like a live wire, daring one of us to

break first. My heart pounded in my chest, frustration and hurt swirling together into a suffocating knot.

Grayson’s glare bore into me, and | refused to back down, even though part ofwanted to.

My thoughts drifted back to the man inside-the bloodied, scarred figure who had been chained to that chair. His

presence didn’t add up. | couldn’t see how my father could be connected to this. It wasn’t just blind loyalty; it

genuinely didn’t make sense: My father, as obsessed with appearances as he was, wouldn't risk his reputation,

let alone his life, orchestrating something like this.

But would Grayson listen? Of course not.

“Just get in the car,” Grayson’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts, snappingback to the present. His tone

was flat, laced with exasperation. “I'm done having this conversation. | won't go after your father, okay? Just...

get in the car.”

| knew he didn’t mean it. Not really. The promise to leave my father alone was a hollow one, made in the heat of

the moment to end the argument. And yet, | was too drained to fight him on it anymore.

Wordlessly, | marched to the car, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. | yanked the door open and climbed

inside, slamming it shut behindwith enough force to rattle the windows. My hands clenched into fists on my

lap as | stared out of the window, refusing to look at him.

Grayson followed moments later, his own frustration evident as he slammed his door shut just as hard. The

sound echoed like a thunderclap in the tense silence between us. Without a word, he started the engine, the

growl of the car filling the awkward void.

| kept my gaze fixed firmly outside, watching the trees blur together as we sped down the road. The night felt

colder now, the dark sky pressing down on us like a heavy weight.

Minutes passed, each one stretching out longer than the last. | could feel Grayson’s glances, quick and fleeting,

as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, softer now but still laced with tension. “I hate arguing with you.”

His admission caughtoff guard. My head turned slightly, though I still didn’t look at him. “I don't like it

either,” | admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

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Chapter 95

We sat in silence again, but this tit wasn’t as sharp. The tension started to ebb, replaced by something

softer, more vulnerable.

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Grayson sighed, his grip on the wheel relaxing slightly. “I don’t want to fight about your father anymore. But you

have to understand, Ava, | can’t just ignore what's happening. People are lying, and we need answers. I'm not

saying he’s guilty, but | can’t rule him out either.”

| nodded slowly, my gaze shifting to my hands. “I get it. | just... | need you to trustwhen | say he wouldn't do

this. Please.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening. “I'll try. That's the best | can promise right now.”

A

It wasn’t the resolution | wanted, but it was a start. A step forward, however small. | could live with that for now.

We drove on, the tension easing bit by bit as we both settled into a tentative truce. The road stretched out ahead

of us, empty and quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine.

But then, out of nowhere, Grayson’s body tensed. His sharp intake of breath drew my attention, and | followed

his gaze to the headlights of a truck barreling toward us from the opposite direction.

“Grayson!” | screamed, panic flooding my voice. “Look out!”

The truck was swerving, its trajectory wild and unpredictable. Grayson yanked the wheel hard to the side, trying

to swerve out of the way, but it was too late.

The crash cwith a deafening roar, metal colliding with metal in a sickening crunch. The force of the impact

threwforward, my seatbelt straining to keepin place. Grayson’s arm shot out instinctively, wrapping

aroundto shield me, but the motion wasn’t enough to stop the violent jolt that slammed my body against the

side of the car.

Pain exploded through me, sharp and all-consuming, radiating from my shoulder and ribs. The world spun, a

chaotic blur of shattered glass, the screech of tires, and the acrid smell of burning rubber.

| heard Grayson shout something-my name, maybe-but his voice sounded distant, drowned out by the rush of

blood in my ears. My vision darkened at the edges, the pain fading into an overwhelming numbness.

And then, nothing.

Blackness swallowedwhole.

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