Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 34

Chapter 33-2

Then–shouting. Different voices.

Uniforms.

“Hospital security! Back off! Move, now!”

The crowd scatters like roaches exposed to light. In seconds, they’re gone, melting into the surrounding streets, leaving me crumpled on the pavement like discarded trash.

I lie there, breathing in shallow gasps. My body throbs everywhere. My vision swims.

A pair of shoes stops in front of my face. Polished black leather. Expensive. Familiar.

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I force my head up.

Aires looks down at me, his expression carved from the same ice that’s lived

in his eyes for years. He takes in my crumpled form, the blood seeping from a fresh cut on my forehead, the tears I didn’t realize I was crying.

“I spoke with Imema,” he says, voice flat and official. “She’s agreed not to pursue charges for the accident. But you’ll need to issue a public apology. We can arrange

a statement-

་་

I stop listening. The words wash over me like water over stone. He watched. He stood there while they attacked me, and

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he watched. And now he’s here, delivering terms, as if I’m a problem to be solved rather than a person bleeding on the ground.

I try to push myself up. My arms shake. I collapse back down.

How pathetic. How utterly, devastatingly pathetic. This is how he always sees me -broken, crawling, begging. The thought almost makes me laugh.

My eyes burn instead. The tears come faster, hot and humiliating.

Something flickers in his expression. He

takes a step forward, hand extending-

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Another hand reaches me first. Warm,

strong, lifting me effortlessly.

“Talia. Talia. Are you alright?”

I look up through blurred vision. Raymond. His perfect features are tight with something I can’t name–anger, maybe, or concern so fierce it looks like fury.

“Mr. Capaldi.” My voice cracks.

“I’m sorry.” He’s scanning my injuries, jaw tight. “I’ve been tied up the last two days. I completely forgot your discharge date.”

“You didn’t need to come.” The words are

Chapter 33-2

automatic. “I didn’t want to bother

anyone.”

His eyes flash to the crowd’s fading figures, then to Aires, still standing there like an ice sculpture. “Your forehead is bleeding. We’re going back inside. Now.”

“It’s nothing. Just a scrape.”

“No.” The word is absolute. “We’re doing a full workup. Concussion check, X–rays, the works.”

لو

I open my mouth to argue. The look on his face stops me. It’s not a negotiation.

It’s a command.

“Okay,” I whisper.

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He nods, adjusting his grip to support my weight. We turn toward the hospital

entrance.

A hand closes around my wrist, yanking

me to a stop.

2

Aires’s grip is iron. His face is darker than I’ve ever seen it, a storm barely contained. “Mr. Thorne. I’ll take my wife inside.”

Raymond doesn’t release me. Instead, he looks at Aires with exaggerated surprise, eyebrows lifting. “Will you? I watched you stand there while a mob assaulted

her. You didn’t seem inclined to take her

anywhere. Just to deliver ultimatums.”

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The air between them crackles. Aires’s

expression turns murderous.

Before either can speak, a new voice cuts through the tension–bright, joyful, utterly oblivious.

“Aires! Oh, you came!”

Imema rushes from the hospital entrance, her bandaged wrist the only evidence

of her ‘ordeal.‘ She throws herself into

Aires’s arms without hesitation, pressing against his chest like she belongs there.

“I knew you’d come for my discharge! I told you not to bother, but you’re so sweet

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She looks up at him, eyes shining with adoration. They’re beautiful together. A perfect portrait. The devoted Alpha and

his delicate love.

I watch, frozen in Raymond’s hold. Something in my chest constricts painfully.

He wasn’t here for me. Of course he

wasn’t. He came for her. My humiliation was just a bonus, a free show before the main event.

Imema notices me then, eyes widening with practiced surprise. “Oh! Ms. Perseus! I didn’t see you there.” She glances at my disheveled state, the blood, the bruises, and her expression shifts to something 16:10

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almost pitying. “Are you alright? You look… terrible.”

Raymond’s arm tightens around me. His voice, when he speaks, is silk over steel. “Ms. Volkov. How fortunate that your discharge coincides with your victim’s. Though I notice you emerged unscathed while she requires re–admission. How…

convenient.”

Imema’s smile falters.

Aires finally speaks, his voice rough. “Imema, wait inside. I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

Inside.”

་་

I

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She goes, but not without a final, meaningful glance at me–a look that says I win more clearly than any words.

Aires turns back to us. To me. His eyes sweep over my battered form, and for a fraction of a second, something almost like guilt flickers there.

“Talia.” His voice is lower now. “I didn’t

mean for-”

“Save it.” The words scrape from my throat, raw and broken. “You came for her. You always come for her. I’m just scenery.”

I turn away, leaning into Raymond’s

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strength. He guides me forward without

another word.

Behind us, Aires stands motionless, watching his wife walk away in another

man’s arms.

I don’t look back. I’m done looking back.

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