Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 146

Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 141

Aires‘ POV

Nick is completely defiant. His bandaged hands gesture wildly, his swollen eyes blazing through the slits in the wrappings. “Bullshit.” His voice is hoarse but loud. “They were the ones who picked on Imema first. How can they push people around at will, but we are not supposed to fight back?”

The officer looks at him, then at Imema, then back at Nick. His expression remains professional, but there is a flicker of something in his eyes. Exasperation, perhaps. “Pardon me, Mr. Thorne. So, how exactly did they pick on this young lady?”

Nick’s confidence swells. He has been waiting for this question. “They made her pick medicinal herbs,” he says, his voice rising with indignation. “That got her hands cut. She is a pianist. Now her hand is injured.” He gestures grandly toward Imema. “Can they take the blame for that?”

While he speaks, he grabs Imema’s hands and holds thegn out for the officers to see. He thrusts them forward 4

bic movements iorky and

like evidence in a courtroom his moven

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There are a few superficial scratches on her skin, thin red lines barely breaking the surface. They were clearly made by branches and leaves. It is not serious at all. Nothing that requires medical attention. By tomorrow, there will be no trace of them.

One of the officers exchanges a glance with his colleague. The look says everything.

Still, procedure must be followed. The officer clears his throat. “Excuse me, miss. Did they force you to pick the medicinal herbs?”

Nick’s eyes twitch. He hesitates fonts.

just a fraction of a second. Then he barrels forward, his voice confident, almost triumphant. “Yes! They even threatened her life.”

The officer’s expression shifts. His posture straightens. “Mr. Thorne, if what you said is true, we will take it very seriously.”

Before he can even finish the sentence, Nick seizes on the words like a lifeline. His voice grows louder, more certain. “That is right. You must take it seriously. They did threaten her life. That old man refused to treat her, made her work like a servant, and when she tried to leave he said he would let her die.”

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I finally cannot take it anymore. The words coming out of Nick’s mouth are a tangled mess of half–truths and outright fabrications, and listening to him dig himself deeper is becoming unbearable.

“Nick.” My voice cuts through his rant, low and hard. “That is enough. Stop talking nonsense.”

He turns to me, his bandaged face twisting with indignation. “I am not talking nonsense. I am telling the

truth.”

The officer holds up a hand, silencing us both. “Mr. Thorne, I need to remind you that you will be held legally responsible for every single word you say right now.” His voice is calm but firm. “Let me ask you again. Did they really use Imema’s life as a threat?”

Nick falters. His mouth opens, closes. “Imema has got a terminal illness,” he finally manages. “Yet they refused to treat her and even laid down conditions for us.” He lifts his chin. “Is this not threatening?”

The officer stares at him for a long moment. I can see the disbelief in his eyes, the struggle to maintain professional composure.

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afford treatment should go around suing hospitals for extortion? That hospitals should be charged with threatening lives when they refuse treatment?”

Nick sputters. His face reddens beneath the bandages. “It is not the same.” His voice is defensive now, the

confidence draining away. “It is not like we are not willing to pay.”

“So you cannot buy something from someone if they do not want to sell it to you, can you?”

The officer’s voice is reasonable, like explaining something to a child.

Nick’s confidence wanes further. “I paid them the money. Why on earth would they not sell it to me?” There is genuine confusion in his voice, as if the concept of someone refusing his money is incomprehensible.

The officer gives him a significant look. “Mr. Thorne, transactions have to adhere to the principle of mutual consent. Coercive transactions are illegal.”

Nick’s mouth opens to argue back. I can see the words forming- more nonsense, more desperate justifications

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“Nick.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, a crack of thunder in the small room. “Shut up.”

He looks at me, stunned.

When did Nick become so unreasonable? I remember a time when he was arrogant, yes, and quick to anger, but there was some logic beneath it. Some sense. Now he rambles like a man who has lost all connection to reality.

I turn toward the police, drawing myself up. “We will fully compensate Jack for his losses.” My voice is controlled now, measured. “Covering both the medical bills and the mental distress compensation.”

I pause for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “Could you go a bit easier on Nick when it comes to his punishment?”

The officer looks at me, and I see something flicker across his face before his gaze shifts to Nick, and that look is replaced by something else. Contempt, thinly veiled.

I can almost read his expression, as if wondering, what is the meaning of being so stubborn now? The law does not yogk like whoever argues better is in the right.

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about how to solve the problem.

The officer speaks, his voice formal. “Nick’s behavior has seriously put other people’s personal safety at risk.” He consults his notes. “I have talked to the other side, and they do not agree to forgive. They just want him to pay / the price he deserves.”

Nick is seething. His bandaged hands clench into fists, the wrappings straining. “They picked on Imema!”

He snarls, “and I have not even got even with them yet. But they are so damn shameless and wicked that they had the nerve to file a complaint first.”

The officer’s expression hardens. “Mr. Thorne, we are supposed to arrest you. But you are currently injured, and your lawyer has already made arrangements for your

bail.”

He pauses. “However, your attitude is likely to put the other side off and leave no room for mediation. If they insist on refusing to agree to mediation, then by law, you will have to serve a certain period of time in custody.”

Nick clenches his teeth so hard I can see the muscles in:14 his jaw working beneath the bandages. “They wouldn’t

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form in his eyes, the moment he gives up on trying to reason with this man. He closes his notebook with a snap.

“If there is nothing else, I will leave first.” He turns toward the door, then pauses. “Please think about it carefully and decide whether you want to seek their forgiveness.”

He leaves. The door closes behind him with a soft click

that feels like a verdict.

***

I find Talia at the clinic an hour later. The gate has been temporarily patched, but the damage is obvious. Inside, she is alone in the main room, sweeping up the debris from the collapsed shelf. Robin and Jack are nowhere to be seen.

I step through the doorway, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the chaos on the floor. Broken jars, scattered herbs, the crushed remnants of what were once carefully organized supplies. I halt in my tracks, my expression growing somber. The damages here are more serious than I expected.

7/8

Í understand now why they called the police, anyone

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A

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1. me. I cannot let him sit in a cell because his temper got the better of him.

I stride up to Talia. My voice comes out harder than I intend, a tone that brooks no argument. “Talia, I need you to issue a letter of understanding.”

She stops sweeping. The broom pauses mid–stroke as she sets it against the wall and walks to the counter. Her movements are unhurried, deliberate.

She picks up a stack of papers that has been sitting there, waiting. I recognize the format immediately.

Divorce papers.

They seem to have been prepared long ago, left aside like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

She turns back to me and holds them out.

“Sure.” Her voice is soft. “Sign this, and I will agree.”

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