Alpha’s Regret: Begging For My Luna Back novel Chapter 90

Astor’s Pov

Alpha Kyle.

The name was etched into my mind, a dark cloud hanging over everything. I’d spent the entire morning and now afternoon trying to dig up anything, anything at all, that could give me an edge against the man who had turned my life upside down.

All I truly knew about him was that he was an Alpha who had supposedly been going from territory to territory. He was looking for a mate and making allies along the way. But that’s where the story started to fall apart, because what I’d found today made no sense. He hadn’t really been doing that at all.

Apparently, he seemed to have fallen for Faith. And not just fallen, no, that was too soft a word. Judging by how Faith spoke about it, the man was obsessed with her. A possessive, dangerous obsession that sent a chill down my spine.

The information I gathered only deepened the mystery. Nobody, and I mean nobody, even seemed to know much about him. His pack was almost like a ghost in the wider network of shifter communities. He hadn’t passed by other packs to make allies. He hadn’t even bothered to look for a mate anywhere else. No, he had targeted just my pack. My pack, my territory, my mate. It was all so strange, so specifically focused, it made my skin crawl.

And then there was the biggest secret of all: the previous Alpha of his pack wasn’t even his relative. Not his father, not his uncle, no blood tie at all. There was some big, hidden secret about how he even managed to become the Alpha of his pack. It was unheard of in our world, a direct challenge to the ancient laws of succession.

I slammed a fist down on my desk, the sound echoing in the silent room. All of this information, all these strange, unsettling facts, didn’t get me any closer to actually having something. My wolf was howling in frustration, the scent of danger thick in the air. We needed a plan, something solid, but there was nothing. Nothing.

Just as despair began to settle heavy in my chest, a small, soft knock sounded on the office door. Before I could even answer, the door creaked open, and a little head poked through.

“Daddy?”

My entire world, the dark storm clouds that had gathered, vanished in an instant. There, peeking around the corner, was my daughter. Her bright, curious eyes, the ones that always held a spark of magic, were fixed on me. And just like that, the endless, exhausting day faded into the background. That’s exactly what she did to me; she lit up my entire existence.

“Isabella!” I exclaimed, my voice warmer, lighter than it had been all day. I pushed back my chair and was on my feet, walking towards her. She launched herself into my arms, wrapping her small limbs around my neck.

“I missed you, Daddy!” she mumbled into my shoulder, her voice soft. “You didn’t even come to tuck me in.”

My heart ached with a different kind of pain. A sharp pang of guilt. How was I supposed to tell her? How could I explain that I wouldn’t be the one to tuck her in most nights now? That there were two of them, two different homes, two different mothers? The thought twisted in my gut.

I held her a little tighter, stroking her soft hair. “I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “Daddy’s going to be very busy for a while. I’m going to try my very best to be there every night, but I can’t promise you anything.” The words felt like sandpaper in my throat, each one a tiny betrayal.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her brow furrowed in thought. Then, to my utter shock, she nodded. “Okay, Daddy,” she said, her voice surprisingly firm. “I understand. You have important Alpha things to do.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. My five–year–old daughter. How could her little heart be so understanding, so completely devoid of the usual childish protest? Sometimes, I just wondered how she was Alice’s daughter. Alice, who was all drama arrogant and spoilt. Isabella was the exact opposite of her mother. Then, I quickly convinced myself that it must be the upbringing I had given her, the steady love and security that had shaped her into this wonderful, empathetic child.

Just then, another, louder knock sounded on the door. This time, it was more confident, less timid. My eyes met Isabella’s, and she giggled softly.

“Come in!” I called out, still holding Isabella close.

Isabella, who had been watching us with wide, curious eyes, now tugged at my shirt. “Daddy?” she asked, her voice a little confused.

I pulled back from Marco, but kept an arm around his shoulder, and then I brought Isabella into our hug, squeezing them both tightly against me. “Come here, you two,” I chuckled, my voice still thick.

Isabella, still very confused, looked up at me. “Is Marco your son?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

I smiled, a joyous, almost giddy smile. “Yes, sweetie,” I said, my voice full of love. “Marco is my son. He’s your little brother… or maybe your big brother,” I added, glancing at Marco with a grin. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to ask Faith when Marco’s birthday is to figure that out.”

Isabella gasped, her confusion quickly replaced by wonder. “A brother?” she whispered, her eyes shining as she looked at Marco. Marco, beaming, nodded back at her.

I looked down at both my children, my heart overflowing. Isabella, my brave, understanding daughter, and Marco, my sweet, quiet son. In that moment, holding them both close, a silent wish formed in my mind, a prayer. I wished that they didn’t end up like their mothers, caught in a bitter, complicated web. I wished that they would always stay united, always together, as siblings, no matter what storms came their way.

Just then, the office door opened again, a different kind of presence filling the room. Faith.

She looked at the three of us, her expression serious, almost grim. “Astor,” she said, her voice low. “We need to talk.”