Alpha’s Regret After Putting Me In Jail novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice

Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice

(Celeste’s POV)

The sacred stillness of the Moon Temple clung to me as I stepped outside into the crisp

evening air. My silver–scarred wolf whimpered softly, the day’s relentless agony carving deep

into my already fractured spirit.

Wolfsbane burns down my arms pulsed with each movement. Marcus’s cruelty had etched

itself into my flesh, and every step back to my quarters felt like a trial of endurance.

But nothing compared to the weight of the pack’s cold gazes. Their judgment lingered, trailing

me like dark shadows.

The faint scent of pine–frost caught my attention. My breath hitched involuntarily. I knew that

scent all too well.

Alexander.

He leaned casually against the twisted oak outside the temple, his powerful, defined frame

relaxed, as though he had all the time in the world. The moonlight caught the silver streak in

his dark hair, turning it into a glinting blade.

His ice–blue eyes locked onto me immediately. They were unreadable, sharp, laced with

something cold yet simmering underneath.

“So eager to become the Alpha King’s nephew’s mate, are you?”

The timber of his voice was low and mocking, cutting clearly through the still air. His words

sliced into me like the edge of a silver blade, bringing a fresh wave of irritation.

Yet I wasn’t surprised by his bitterness–it was something we both shared in small,

unknowable fragments.

Pausing mid–stride, I kept my back to him. I didn’t need to face him to feel the weight of his

eyes burning into me. My wolf bristled uneasily under his scrutiny, curling inward in defense.

“Does the pack’s strongest warrior,” I replied, my voice soft yet barbed with acidic calm,

“believe my life would be as difficult as it is now if I were Marcus’s mate?”

The question hung between us, sharp and heavy, charged with suppressed truths neither of us

wanted to confront.

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+8 Point:

Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice

Through the fading connection between us, I felt his wolf recoil slightly. Yet at the same time,

Steelclaw surged forward, agitated and restless.

Alexander didn’t respond immediately. His silence was its own answer.

Without sparing him a glance, I resumed my unsteady steps, the pain in my limbs threatening

to buckle my knees with every passing moment.

But no matter how much my body screamed for rest, I refused to falter in his presence. Not

here. Not ever.

The journey back to the pack house stretched endlessly. My steps were sluggish, and my breathing grew shallow. Every inch of my body felt like screaming under the weight of Marcus’s punishment paired with today’s ordeal.

A sharp pang shot through my ribs, making me stumble. A bitterly familiar feeling surged in my chest: shame–the kind born from weakness.

But just as darkness began to cloud my vision, the scent of healing herbs cut through it.

“Miss Celeste,” came Dr. Pierce’s voice, steady and calm like a lifeline anchoring me. His hands reached out just in time to steady me before my knees could collapse entirely.

The pack healer’s golden eyes were lined with concern as he spoke again. “Easy now.” Despite the professionalism of his tone, a thread of urgency bled through his words.

I tried to argue. “I’m fine. Just need…”

“No, you’re not,” he cut me off sharply. Pierce wasn’t one to mince words. His hands moved deftly, steadying me against the nearby wall before carefully inspecting my bandages, now completely soaked with fresh blood.

The mixture of wolfsbane burns and silver poisoning was taking its toll on my system.

Before I could protest further, Pierce pressed something against my lips. “Moon–blessed

herbs,” he instructed firmly. “Breathe slowly as they work.”

Despite myself, I obeyed. The potent blend struck immediately, sending waves of intense

dizziness crashing over me. I felt my consciousness slipping.

The last thing I heard before darkness claimed me was his voice muttering, “You push

yourself far too hard, child.”

–

(Alexander’s POV)

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+8 Points

Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice

The Silver Creek tavern brimmed with the usual cacophony of laughter, clinking glasses, and murmured conversations that filled its hearth–like glow nightly.

Yet my focus remained fixed on Lucas.

He sat hunched at the bar’s edge, the warped wood cluttered with empty glasses of

half–drained moon–blessed wine.

His golden eyes were glassy and dull, radiating simmering unrest just below the surface.

“You look terrible,” I said coolly. There was no effort to mask the edge in my words as I pulled out a chair, sitting opposite him.

“Have something to say, or did you come here to lecture me?” Lucas scoffed, his words slurred

ever so slightly. His wolf still carried traces of the aggression from earlier–the raw energy spilling out messily from the heavy turbulence inside him.

Instead of answering, I grabbed the bottle of moon–blessed wine and poured myself a glass.

The burn of the drink was dull on my tongue–barely enough to distract from the bubbling mix

of dissatisfaction and unease crystallizing within me.

“You don’t fool me,” Lucas continued, his voice steadying through sheer stubbornness. “You’re

just as damn angry as I am–over Scarlett, over her.”

He didn’t need to elaborate on “her.” The weight of Celeste’s presence lingered like a phantom

between us.

My silent acknowledgment seemed to infuriate Lucas further as he leaned forward, slamming

his glass against the bar’s surface with unnecessary force.

“I came to talk about Marcus’s mate claim,” he snapped, his voice dropping low. “That damn

girl has no sense of self–preservation. Still fixated on gaining royal protection, no matter the

cost–even after what he did. You need to talk some sense into her!”

I raised an eyebrow as I took another deliberate sip from my glass. The irony of Lucas giving

me such advice was not lost on me.

“Why not let her mate with him?”

The blow of my question landed hard–sharper than any strike.