Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 293

Chapter 290

Aires’ POV

Talia turns away from me, her ankles moving with a fragile, unsteady precision as she begins to walk down the dark, blood-stained road of the intersection. Her silhouette looks tiny against the massive, looming shapes of the abandoned warehouses. The oversized leather jacket I draped over her shoulders sways with her movement, a stark, agonizing reminder of how small, how vulnerable she truly is beneath her cold, sovereign armor.

A sharp spike of sheer panic pierces straight through my chest, forcing me to my feet. My knees groan against the asphalt, but my wolf inside me roars with a frantic, desperate urgency. I cannot let her walk away like this. Not tonight. Not into the dark, empty streets where the echoes of Nick’s contract are still vibrating through the air.

“Talia, please!” I call out, my voice rough, cracked, and entirely stripped of my pride as I stride quickly after her, keeping my steps measured so I don’t startle her defensive instincts. I close the distance between us, but I

stop exactly three feet behind her, my hands half-raised in the air, completely refusing to touch her without her permission. “Just listen to me. For a single minute.

She halts, her shoulders turning rigid beneath the heavy black leather. She doesn’t turn around to face me; she/ just tilts her head slightly, her profile catching the cold, dirty yellow glare of the distant freeway overpass. The freezing midnight wind whips a stray lock of her dark hair across her cheek.

“I hear your words,” I coax, my voice trembling violently as I swallow down a rising sob, forcing an absolute, desperate sincerity into every syllable. “I know I have no right to offer you my shadow. I know my protection means nothing to you after the way I threw you away. You can build your own fortress tomorrow. You can erase me completely from your life when the sun rises, and I will not try to force my way back in.”

I take a single, agonizing step closer, my eyes locking onto the bare skin of her exposed shoulder where the dress fabric is completely torn away.

“But just for this night… let me take you home,” I convince her, my tone dropping into a quiet, pleading

transit line alone, if they have scouts stationed at the next intersection, they will track you down again. You have a severe fever, your body is shivering, and you can barely/ hold your balance. Let me be your driver. Nothing more. Just let me ensure you breathe safely behind your own gates before you lock me out for good.”

For several long, suffocating seconds, Talia remains completely still in the dark. The silence between us is deafening, broken only by the low, mechanical hum of my idling SUV behind us. I hold my breath, my heart hammering frantically against my ribs, entirely ready to drop back to my knees if she rejects me again.

Finally, with a slow, heavy sigh that sounds like pure exhaustion, she moves. She walks toward the passenger side of my vehicle, her movements stiff and drained of energy. She opens the door herself, ignoring my extended hand, and slides onto the leather seat, staring straight ahead into the dark windshield.

A heavy, profound wave of relief washes through my soul, but it is instantly consumed by a dark, volatile storm as 24

run to the driver’s side and slide behind the steering wheel.

The drive back to her house is wrapped in a thick, suffocating silence. Talia doesn’t offer me a single glance, her eyes completely fixed on the passing neon streetlights that blur across the side window. Beside her, my chest burns with a lethal, volatile mix of agonizing guilt and murderous rage. Every time I glance at her pale, sweating forehead or the torn blue silk peek through my leather jacket, the guilt cuts deeper into my bones, a vicious reminder of my own catastrophic blindness. And right beneath that guilt, the rage turns into an explosive, unyielding entity, demanding the blood of the people who orchestrated this nightmare.

I pull the vehicle up to the curb of her modest apartment gate. I turn off the engine, step out of the car, and open her passenger door before she can even undo her seatbelt. Talia tries to push herself upright, but her legs instantly buckle under the weight of her fever, a soft gasp of pain escaping her lips.

I don’t ask for permission this time. I gently slide my arms beneath her knees and her back, lifting her fragile

frame into my arms. She turns her head away from my 24

477

chest, her body remaining completely rigid, but she doesn’t have the physical strength to fight my grip. I carry her through the small garden path, push the front door open, and walk straight into her quiet bedroom.

I lay her down onto the soft mattress with absolute care, as if she is made of spun glass. I pull the heavy, warm blankets up to her chin, tucking her in securely, before stepping back toward the doorway. I look at her for one last, lingering second-she has already closed her eyes, her breathing shallow and ragged as the exhaustion completely takes over her mind.

I step out of the apartment, pulling the front door shut with a soft, ghostly click, and walk out onto the wooden porch. The midnight air is freezing, but the blood in my veins is boiling with a primitive, unadulterated fury.

I pull my encrypted pack phone from my pocket, dialing a direct secure line. The receiver rings only once before a deep, alert voice cuts through the line.

“Alpha,” Bruno answers instantly.

“Bruno, listen to my words, and do not dare ask a single

nd my voice dropping into a low,19:24

terrifying register that leaves absolutely no room for debate. The sheer force of my Alpha dominance vibrates through the phone line, making the air on the porch turn heavy and suffocating. “Take our top unit. Station four of our most elite, lethal executioners at Talia’s gate right now. They are to establish an ironclad, permanent/ perimeter around this house.”

I grip the wooden railing of the porch so tightly the timber cracks beneath my palm.

“If anyone-anyone unauthorized, whether they are high-society elites, corporate commoners, or rogues

proaches this gate, do not warn them. Do not question them. Kill them on sight. If a single leaf falls unauthorized on her lawn, I will have your head on a spike, Bruno. Do you understand my sentence?”

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