The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 333

Chapter 333

Alexander’s Perspective

I had never felt so utterly foolish in my entire life. Stupid—completely and irrevocably stupid. Worse than that, I felt vile, despicable even.

How could I have allowed myself to kiss another woman? How could the pull of the full moon combined with the haze of a few discounted drinks have clouded my judgment so severely? It was unthinkable.

Ella’s grave was still fresh, the earth barely settled, and yet there I was, betraying her memory by kissing the very nanny entrusted with caring for our son.

My wolf growled in silent reproach. “She is our mate,” it reminded me sharply.

I clenched my fists, biting back the bitter retort. “It doesn’t matter that she’s the second-chance mate I never wanted. I should never have kissed her,” I murmured, watching helplessly as she stormed away, her drink sloshing and staining the already sticky dancefloor.

No one around seemed to notice the commotion. The crowd was too engrossed in their own reckless grinding and laughter to spare a glance. Perhaps that was a small mercy—I didn’t want to imagine the scandal that would erupt if anyone realized the Alpha King had just kissed a woman who was neither his late wife nor his fiancée.

What a pathetic joke I had become.

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, I left the club immediately. I was far too intoxicated to drive, so I stepped outside into the cool embrace of the moonlight and shifted. The transformation was a release, a loosening of the tension that had wound itself tight inside me under the full moon’s influence. Without hesitation, I bounded into the surrounding forest, heading in the direction of home.

But I couldn’t face going home just yet. The thought of lying in the bed I once shared with Ella after what I’d done was unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the cold stone as if seeking forgiveness. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was a lapse in judgment—just like so many other mistakes I’ve made.”

There was no response, of course. And somehow, that silence felt like a mercy. Though, if I were honest with myself, a small, twisted part of me wished she would rise from the grave and strangle me for everything I’d done—not just the kiss, but for marrying another woman, even if it had been a contract marriage.

And then there was the gnawing suspicion that had haunted me for months: that she might have been a spy.

Maybe she was. I’d never uncovered any solid proof after her death, but then again, I had been too consumed by grief and the Luna Trial to continue investigating.

That was my failing. Maybe there was evidence out there somewhere, but I was too much of a coward to seek it out. Because if I found it—if it proved she wasn’t a spy after all—it would only be a bitter reminder that I had been wrong about her. And my terrible mistake had been at least partly responsible for her untimely death.

nd heart-pounding twists.