Alpha’s Regret After His Pregnant Luna Left novel Chapter 102

(Audrey’s POV)

Arthur’s grip on my wrist tightened as his eyes burned into mine with an intensity I hadn’t witnessed in years.

“Audrey, please,” he pleaded, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Don’t sever our mate bond. I only want you. No one else. Not Victoria, not anyone.”

I couldn’t help but laugh – a hollow, bitter sound that echoed in the sitting room of the Moonstone Pack House.

“Do you even believe yourself?” I asked, pulling my wrist from his grasp. “After everything that’s happened between us, you expect me to just… what? Fall back into your arms?”

His face contorted with something resembling pain. I’d never seen the mighty Alpha King look so desperate.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he admitted, reaching for me again. “Terrible ones. But I can’t lose you.”

I stepped back, putting distance between us. While I hadn’t expected him to believe Victoria’s ridiculous accusations about Nathan, this sudden declaration of devotion felt hollow – too little, too late.

“You already lost me,” I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. “You lost me when you chose to help Victoria instead of me when she pushed me into traffic. You lost me when you slapped me while I was miscarrying our pups.”

Grace, my wolf, whimpered inside me at the painful memories, but I continued, my voice growing stronger.

“Our mate bond is already broken, Arthur. The severance is just a formality.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken accusations and regrets. Arthur’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching beneath his skin as he fought for control.

“I’m willing to overlook the photos with Nathan,” he finally said, his voice deceptively calm.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. So that’s what this was about. He’d never believed me. Even now, he thought I was lying.

“Overlook?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “You think there’s something to overlook?”

Tears welled in my eyes despite my best efforts to hold them back. All this time, he’d been harboring suspicions, seeing me as disloyal, unfaithful.

“After three years as mates, eight years of me loving you from afar, you still think so little of me?” I whispered, the pain sharp and fresh.

Arthur reached for me again, but I evaded his touch.

“That’s not what I meant,” he started, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“It’s exactly what you meant,” I said, tears now streaming freely down my face. “You never trusted me. Not once.”

Before he could respond, I turned and fled, taking the mansion’s grand staircase two steps at a time in my haste to escape him.

I locked myself in my old bathroom, sliding down against the door until I hit the cold tile floor. Despite my promise to myself that I wouldn’t cry over Arthur Moonstone anymore, the tears came anyway – hot and furious.

Eight years. Eight years of loving him, of dreaming about him, of trying to be worthy of him. And for what? For him to see me as nothing but a disloyal, unfaithful she-wolf who would jump into bed with another male at the first opportunity.

I pressed my fist against my mouth to stifle a sob. What a waste it had all been.

The days that followed our confrontation passed in a blur of awkward avoidances and oppressive silence. Arthur and I fell into an unspoken routine of never being in the same room at the same time. I spent most of my time in my old quarters, venturing out only when I was certain he was occupied elsewhere in the pack territory.

My phone buzzed occasionally with messages from Nathan. I kept my responses vague, assuring him I was fine and that Arthur’s behavior was nothing I couldn’t handle. The last thing I needed was to further entangle Nathan in my mate bond troubles.

“I’m worried about you,” Nathan’s message read. “Arthur’s reputation for possessiveness is well-known. Are you sure you’re safe?”

“I’m fine,” I texted back. “Just counting down the days until the severance is finalized.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was physically safe, if emotionally drained. Arthur hadn’t tried to approach me again after our confrontation, maintaining a cold distance that should have been a relief but somehow felt worse than his anger.

One evening, as I was reading a book on rare healing herbs in my room, voices in the hallway caught my attention – George Thompson and Arthur, speaking in urgent tones.

“Alpha, please,” George pleaded, his usually composed voice strained with worry. “You must take care of your health. Not just for yourself, but for the pack.”

“It’s nothing,” Arthur replied, his voice sounding rougher than usual. “Just leave it, George.”

I closed my book and moved to shut my door, wanting no part in whatever was happening. But a nagging worry stopped me. What if Arthur’s condition was related to the silver wound he’d received protecting me from those rogue wolves?

I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. It wasn’t my responsibility anymore. Soon we wouldn’t even be mates.

“I need to get the medicine,” I explained, trying to extract myself gently.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clinging to my hand. “So sorry. For everything. Please don’t sever our bond. Please, Audrey.”

Before I could react, he pulled me down into his embrace. I found myself trapped against his chest, his arms wrapping around me with desperation.

“Arthur, you’re delirious,” I said, trying to maintain some distance. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” he insisted, his voice rough with emotion. “I was wrong. So wrong. I’m a stupid wolf who doesn’t know how to feel.”

I carefully arranged myself so I wasn’t putting pressure on his wounded back. His body heat radiated against me, far too intense even for an Alpha wolf.

“If you’re truly sorry,” I reasoned, trying a different approach, “then you’ll agree to the severance. Let me go, Arthur.”

“No,” he growled, the word vibrating through his chest. “Can’t lose you. Won’t.”

His arms tightened briefly before his body went slack again, consciousness slipping away as the fever reclaimed him.

I attempted to extract myself from his grip, moving carefully to avoid disturbing his wounded back. As I shifted, his arm fell limply to the side, exposing his wrist.

What I saw made my blood run cold.

Silver burn marks – some fresh, some older – marred the skin of his inner wrist. They were small but unmistakable, and clearly self-inflicted. An Alpha wolf’s healing ability should have erased such marks almost instantly unless they were continually reopened.

Grace whimpered in distress, and tears sprung to my eyes unbidden. Despite everything, the sight of those burns cut through my defenses, revealing the depth of Arthur’s pain.

“Arthur,” I whispered, gently touching one of the marks. “What have you done to yourself?”

His only response was a mumbled, “Miss you… always miss you,” before he drifted back into fevered sleep.