Alpha’s Regret After His Pregnant Luna Left novel Chapter 234

(Third Person’s POV)

Lyra Riverwind stood in front of the territory window for a while, her silhouette outlined against the glittering city lights of Central Territory. The moonlight cast a silvery glow across her features, highlighting the calculating gleam in her eyes. She was lost in thoughts of power and manipulation until a subtle movement from outside her room caught her attention.

With practiced grace, she turned and walked to the bedside table. The moonlight nectar that Beta Thornwood had left earlier still sat there, untouched. In one swift motion, Lyra grabbed the glass and drained it in a single gulp, letting the sweet liquid slide down her throat.

She placed the empty glass back on the table with a soft clink and moved toward the door. Her hand hesitated on the handle for just a moment before she pushed it open and stepped outside.

In the spacious living area of the luxury territory suite, Yvette Riverwind sat on an elegant sofa, her shoulders slightly slumped as she gazed at nothing in particular.

The moment she heard Lyra’s approach, she looked up, her eyes lighting with maternal affection tinged with something else – a deep, aching sadness.

Beta Thornwood had just finished relaying what she’d overheard – how Lyra had referred to her own mother simply as “Yvette Riverwind,” without the proper title or respect. The revelation had pierced Yvette’s heart like a silver dagger.

What kind of life had her daughter endured during those lost years? What hardships had shaped her into someone who kept her own mother at such a distance? Even after being reunited for over a year, Lyra’s emotional walls remained high and impenetrable. The thought made Yvette’s chest constrict with guilt.

If only she hadn’t been so careless back then… if only she had protected her pup better. Perhaps Lyra wouldn’t carry these invisible scars.

Lyra, observing her mother’s troubled expression, approached with carefully calculated innocence. “Mother, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice pitched perfectly to convey concern without revealing her own anxiety.

“Nothing,” Yvette replied with a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Then, to Lyra’s complete surprise, Yvette rose from the sofa and enveloped her in a tight embrace. One hand stroked Lyra’s hair with tender affection while the other held her close, as if afraid she might disappear again.

“It’s okay, pup,” Yvette whispered against her hair. “You can call me whatever you want in the future. It’s just a name, it’s not important. We have a long time together.

We’ll take it slowly.”

Lyra’s body went rigid with shock. This was not what she had expected. Where was the confrontation? The accusations? The harsh words demanding to know why she would disrespect her own mother by using her name without proper title?

In her experience with the lone wolf pack that had raised her, mistakes were always punished – severely and without mercy. No one had ever held her like this, with such tenderness, after she had erred. No one had ever totd her it was okay, that they had time to work things out together.

Yvette Riverwind was the first person to ever respond to her failures with compassion instead of cruelty.

Lyra had perfected the art of deception – knowing exactly when to be submissive, when to appear sweet and vulnerable, when to hide the darkness that lived inside her. But this unexpected kindness caught her completely off guard. Something shifted in her chest, a hairline crack appearing in the wall she had built around her heart.

Before Lyra could process these unfamiliar feelings, Yvette released her and pressed a rolled-up territory den floor plan into her hands.

“Look,” Yvette said softly, her eyes filled with hope. “Do you like it? You like Central Territory, right? Mother decided, we’ll settle down here from now on. If you like this territory den, we’ll go and reserve it tomorrow.”

Lyra stared at the floor plan, unable to form words.

“It’ll be in your name,” Yvette continued, “as a gift from your mother.”

Lyra unrolled the document with trembling fingers. The floor plan revealed a luxury territory den with a private hunting ground in front and an expansive moonlight pool in the back. It was located in the most prestigious pack area of Central Territory – the kind of property that even powerful Alphas coveted.

Normally, Lyra would have squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Yvette in a show of gratitude while internally calculating the property’s value in rare hunting grounds. She would have already been planning how to leverage this new asset.

But something strange was happening. The words that came out of her mouth weren’t calculated or manipulative

– they felt unfamiliar, almost foreign, as they passed her lips.

“You said it’s our home,” Lyra heard herself say, her tone uncharacteristically stiff.

. “Wherever Mother is, that’s my

home. So, the territory den should be in your name.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Lyra was stunned by her own sincerity. It felt wrong, dangerous even – like exposing a vulnerable underbelly to a potential predator.

Yvette’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you say?”

Panic flooded Lyra’s system, her survival instincts screaming at her to retreat, to regain control of the situation. “Nothing!” she exclaimed, hastily placing the floor plan on the sofa.

I couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of relief and disappointment. Even in my compromised state, I knew he was right. We had too many unresolved issues between us, too many explanations owed, too many wounds still raw.

‘…” I remained silent, uncomfortable with the intensity of the moment yet stilt clearheaded enough to process his words. Yes, I still owed him an explanation. Being confused about our relationship status was unfair to both of us.

Florian turned away from me and moved to the elegant claw-foot bathtub that dominated the far wall of thewashroom. He turned the cold water on, the sound of rushing water filling the otherwise quiet room.

After the bathtub had filled about halfway, he returned to where I sat perched on the marble counter. His expression was a careful mask, but I could see the struggle behind his eyes as he looked at me.

“Should I help you take them off, or should I find other ways?” he asked, hesitation evident in his voice.

The question hung between us, laden with implications.

My skin flushed hotter, not entirely from the silver drug.

.)…l’ll do it myself,” I finally managed to reply.

A brief flash of what might have been disappointment crossed Florian’s features before being replaced by his customary teasing smirk. He seemed afraid of losing his strength of will if he stayed any longer.

With graceful efficiency, he picked me up with one hand, supporting my weight as if I were no heavier than a pup.” You cleanse yourself,” he instructed, his voice husky. “I will get you some clothes later.’

He set me carefully on my feet beside the bathtub, then turned and walked to the door. His movements were controlled, almost rigid, as if he was forcing himself to leave.

At the threshold, he paused and glanced back at me. “Take as long as you need,” he said. Then, with visible reluctance, he stepped out of the washroom and gently closed the door behind him.

The gentleness and affection that had been so evident in his earlier actions had disappeared, replaced by a dangerous air of restraint – like a predator temporarily backing away from its prey.

As I slowly began to undress, I knew this was merely a temporary reprieve. The conversation we needed to have the explanations I owed him – couldn’t be postponed much longer.