Alpha’s Regret: Begging For My Luna Back novel Chapter 94

Faith’s Pov

Each tick of the clock after Astor left was a stab of worry. Kyle. Our daughter. Had he figured it out? Had Astor slipped up? My stomach twisted into knots thinking about Kyle knowing we were trying to play him.

The phone lay silent on the bedside table, a cruel joke. No call from Kyle. Nothing. It only made my heart pound harder. I tossed and turned, replaying every word Astor and I had exchanged, every detail of our plan. Sleep, when it finally came, brought no peace, only fleeting, jumbled nightmares.

The first hint of dawn, a faint grey light peeking through the curtains, was a small mercy. I pushed myself up, my body still aching from the tension of the night. No time to dwell on fear. Marco needed me. My son. His bright, innocent face was the only thing that could anchor me. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and went straight to the kitchen.

I hummed a silly tune while I cooked, trying to push away the dark clouds. Marco, sensing the food, soon padded in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, Mommy,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” I said, kissing his forehead. “Breakfast is ready. ?”

Soon, we were ready. Holding Marco’s small hand in mine, we walked towards the Pack House.

The Pack House was alive with a hum of activity.

“Well, well, Faith,” a voice chirped, a little too brightly. Alice. She stood by the main table, shuffling papers. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

I just nodded, my eyes already scanning the large hall. “It’s good to be back. I need to get up to speed on everything. I’m taking over.”

Her smile faltered for a second, then quickly reappeared. “Of course. Everything is completely under control.”

But my gut told me otherwise. It didn’t take long for me to see how very wrong things were. I walked through the main areas, talked to a few pack members, and the more I saw, the more my heart sank.

The first place I went was the pack orphanage. My heart clenched. The children looked thin, their clothes ragged and too small. A little girl, no older than Marco, shivered in a threadbare dress. My blood boiled. “Where are the new clothes?” I asked one of the caregivers, my voice. sharp. “Where’s the extra food?”

The caregiver looked down, shuffling her feet. “Alice said that the funds were tight. And the food supply is usually kept for, other purposes.”

Other purposes? I made a mental note. This needed to be fixed immediately. The children deserved better.

Next, I went to the elderly wing. It was quiet, too quiet. Old Uncle Silas, who always had a joke, sat alone by the window, staring blankly outside. His blanket was thin, and his eyes looked tired. There weren’t enough caregivers. The few I saw looked overwhelmed and exhausted. “Is there no one to help them?” I whispered to a young woman hurrying past. She just shook her head, her eyes wide with apology. “We’re so short–staffed, Luna Faith. There’s just not enough of us to go around.” My chest ached. These were our elders, our history. They were being neglected.

Then there was the kitchen. I nearly choked on the smell. Massive piles of food, bought in huge quantities, were rotting in corners. Bags of potatoes were sprouting, and crates of fruit were covered in mold. “Why is all this food going bad?” I demanded loudly. The head cook, a kind–faced woman named Elara, wrung her hands. “Alice insisted on buying in bulk, Luna. But we don’t have the storage, and so much just spoils before we can even use it.” It was insane.

Such a waste, when the children were going hungry.

And the Warriors. Our Pack Patrol. They were the ones protecting us, working hard, day and night. But the food they were getting wasn’t right. I watched them eat lunch. Greasy stews and heavy bread, but not enough lean meat, fresh vegetables, or the high–energy foods they needed. Their diet was clearly unhealthy for the kind of demanding job they did. It would wear them down, make them slow.

Marco’s eyes lit up. “With sticks and leaves!”

We gathered fallen branches and big maple leaves. I helped them prop up the sticks to make a frame, then draped the leaves over them like little roofs. They worked together, Marco finding the strongest sticks, Isabella picking the prettiest leaves. They chattered away, making up stories about the knights and princesses who would live in their castle.

“This is the royal kitchen!” Marco declared, placing a smooth, flat stone inside.

“And this is where the princess sleeps!” Isabella added, arranging soft moss for a bed.

I sat with them, offering suggestions, laughing at their imaginative ideas. Isabella had a quick wit, and a surprisingly strong will for such a small thing. She would sometimes correct Marco, but always gently, her eyes full of warmth. I noticed she loved to talk, sharing stories about her toy animals, her favorite color, etc.

She had a way of tilting her head when she was thinking deeply, just like I did. She was observant, noticing tiny bugs crawling on the leaves, pointing them out with wide–eyed wonder.

After they finished their magnificent castle, Marco suddenly remembered something. “Mommy, Isabella wants to draw! We love drawing!”

That’s just how low of an attention span Marco has because 1 minute he can be drawing and the other he will be running around playing hide and seek with his Imaginary Friends or something.

Isabella had a vibrant imagination. She drew a field of dancing flowers and a sun wearing sunglasses. Marco drew a monster truck and a superhero wolf. I felt a profound sense of peace watching them, a strange mix of joy and sorrow.

My time with Marco and Isabella had been a much–needed break but of course nothing lasts especially not my happiness.