Alpha's Regret, Begging My Convict Luna Back novel Chapter 84

Chapter 84

Aria’s POV

I returned to the hotel with the thirty thousand dollars finally in my bag. The money felt heavy-not because of its weight, but because of what it meant for Lana and me. Survival. A little more breathing room. Maybe one less night of fear.

Just as I reached my door, a sudden change in the air made every hair on the back of my neck rise. My wolf stirred, alert. It felt as though someone was watching me.

A shadow moved. A figure, thin, hooded, and unfamiliar, hovered a few steps away.

Before I could react, they rushed toward me and slipped something into my hand. It was a folded piece of paper… warm, as if gripped tightly just moments ago.

My instincts roared. Was I in danger? Is this a trap?

I snapped my gaze up, ready to bare my fangs if needed, but-

They were gone. They vanished into the hallway as if swallowed by the night.

Bewildered, I stared at the note in my palm. My pulse hammered, my wolf pacing restlessly beneath my

skin.

I inhaled slowly through my nose, letting my heightened senses scout the environment to see if there was anyone still lurking around. There was no immediate threat.

Still, my fingers trembled as I unfolded the note.

One look at the words and my pupils tightened to pinpoints.

My breath caught.

No… no, this couldn’t be real.

I sucked in several deep breaths, trying to quiet the panic scraping at my ribs. My wolf whined low in my chest, sensing the old wound ripping open.

Clutching the note so tightly it crumpled, I pushed myself inside the room and locked the door behind

The message said the file I needed would be available tomorrow at the Grayson Hotel.

The file. What file do they mean? I wondered.

My heart kicked into a sprint.

I wasn’t a lawyer anymore. They’d taken that from me when they took my freedom. And the only file that still mattered, the only file that haunted me day and night, was the case that had destroyed my life over a year ago and caused my wrongful imprisonment.

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Could that be what they mean?

I didn’t believe for a second that my imprisonment had been an accident.

I tightened my grip around the paper until my knuckles whitened. The messenger that handed this paper to me was just a tool. Someone else had orchestrated this.

But who?

And why contact me now?

My thoughts tangled into a web of suspicion. My wolf growled softly inside me, protective, mistrustful, urging me to tread carefully.

I didn’t know whether this person wanted to help me… or finish what they started.

But one thing was crystal clear-I couldn’t carry an undeserved conviction on my back forever. Not when every instinct screamed for justice. Not when every night I woke up fearing the world would take Lana

from me too.

I wasn’t just Aria anymore, I was Lana’s mother. And for her sake, the world would see my truth-even if I had to claw my way through every lie to get it.

Nathan’s POV

Two days have passed. I arrived the hotel where my meeting with Alpha Carson would hold. He sat in his wheelchair, unable to rise, yet he bowed his head in greeting.

“Alpha Carson, keep it short.”

My voice came out cool and clipped. I didn’t bother taking the hand he extended. Wolves like me didn’t offer courtesy to everyone. Intent mattered. Instincts matter too, and my instincts told me to keep distance.

I leaned back in my seat, relaxed on the surface-but beneath that calm veneer, my wolf prowled silently,

observing and judging.

I saw the flicker of embarrassment in Carson’s eyes, but he swallowed it. Smart man. He merely signaled his secretary to bring the documents.

The atmosphere snapped from casual lounge warmth to a sterile business tension.

From the corner of my eyes, I noticed a familiar figure. It was Peter Clinton, already glassy-eyed from too much wine, jerked upright like a pup caught misbehaving.

Peter shifted slightly, his eyes cutting to me and I could swear I saw a ghost of animosity in his eyes.

He lifted his glass again, drinking more alcohol. How stupid of him.

From what I hear, he has a history of severe alcohol allergy. But from the looks of things right now, he didn’t care about that.

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I had sent Collins to deliver some message to him at the hospital few days ago before he was discharged. I hear it was not properly received.

My jaw tightened unconsciously, a low rumble building in my chest. I forced it down.

Peter returned his gaze to his drink. He was too busy drowning himself one gulp at a time. I watched him lift another glass to his lips, his hand trembling slightly.

Idiot.

Empty bottles littered the table. His neck flushed red, then they got deeper.

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