Alpha's Regret The Luna He Left Behind novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The reception hall emptied out.

Mom stopped near the entrance and turned around.

“Wait.” She looked left, then right. “Where’s Genevieve?”

Derek scanned the crowd and came up empty. He crossed his arms.

“Probably curled up in some corner somewhere. You know how she gets.”

Mom exhaled slowly. Her expression shifted – something softer trying to push through.

“Maybe we were too hard on her today. After everything she went through in that accident. And losing her wolk…”

Derek put a hand on her shoulder.

“Mom. Relax. I’ll call her and apologize.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

Nothing.

Straight to voicemail.

Before he could try again, Serena plucked the phone out of his hand.

“Dad. Mom.” Her voice was smooth and easy, like she was calming down children. “Stop worrying about Genevieve. We’re going to be late for the gala.”

That was all it took.

Diane blinked once, and the concern evaporated off her face.

She turned toward the car.

The ride was quiet.

Wrong kind of quiet.

None of them had their usual energy, the kind that comes with a night they’d been looking forward to for weeks.

Then Mom’s phone rang.

Unknown number.

She picked up anyway.

“Is this Ms. Genevieve Sterling’s mother?”

Diane stiffened. “Yes. Who is this?”

A pause.

A slow exhale on the other end.

Then-

“Your daughter, Genevieve Sterling, was found collapsed outside the estate approximately thirty minutes ago. By

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A beat.

“She was already gone.”

The words landed.

Mom’s brain rejected them.

Claim 10 Come try (MAC in

“What?” Her voice climbed sharp and fast. “Is this some kind of sick joke? My daughter was just standing right in

front of me.”

Every head in the car turned.

Sebastian hit the brakes.

Serena moved the fastest.

She snatched the phone straight out of Diane’s hand.

“What did you just say?” Her voice cracked. “She’s dead? That’s not real. Tell me that’s not real – answer me!”

The person on the other end went flat.

“You’ll know when you get to the hospital.”

Click.

The call dropped.

Nobody moved.

The car just sat there in the middle of the road.

No one spoke.

No one turned on the radio.

The only sound was breathing – unsteady, sharp, the kind that comes when the body can’t decide whether to cry

or scream.

Mom broke first.

She pressed both hands over her mouth, but the sound got out anyway.

“No. No, she can’t how did this – how did she-”

Dad’s hand shot to Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Turn around. Hospital. Now.”

Serena opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Whatever she was going to say about the gala, she swallowed it.

She turned her face to the window and didn’t say another word.

The car peeled out.

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The hospital came up fast.

Mom and Dad barely made it out of the car.

Derek caught them both, one arm around each, and walked them through the sliding doors.

The morgue was cold.

Sebastian asked the doctor

–

his voice splitting open on the first syllable.

“What – what was the cause?”

The doctor looked tired.

The kind of tired that comes from delivering this kind of news too many times.

“The damage from the car accident was severe. Ms. Sterling’s lungs and internal organs never recovered.” /

He paused.

“With her wolf permanently silent, her body had no way to heal.”

Sebastian went still.

The doctor looked from him to the others.

“She had about a month. We told her that when she woke up.‘

Silence.

A different silence this time.

Sharper.

Sebastian’s face emptied.

Diane swayed.

Derek caught her before she fell.

“She knew?” Russell’s voice came out hoarse. “She knew she was dying?”

The doctor’s expression tightened.

“She asked us not to disclose that part. She said the family could know about her wolf, but not about the time she had left.”

No one spoke.

Sebastian stared at the covered stretcher like he had never seen death before.

Like it had just learned his name.

Serena’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Her voice broke on cue, tears spilling perfect and clean down her face. “If she had said something – if we’d known – I never would have I wouldn’t have-”

–

She stopped.

Shook her head.

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“If I had known she was dying, I never would have been with Sebastian.”

Derek’s voice came out low and rough.

“Stop. This isn’t your fault. It’s just it’s her fate. She was in the wrong seat that day.”

His eyes were wet.

His throat worked hard.

Sebastian didn’t say a word.

He crouched down near the stretcher, elbows on his knees, both hands pressing against the sides of his head.

His knuckles went white.

He stared at the floor like it had answers.

“No.”

The word came out like something torn.

–

–

“No, it’s my fault. If I had — if I’d gotten to her first – she wouldn’t have been hurt at all.”

He kept saying it.

Over and over, rocking slightly, voice dropping lower each time, like a prayer he already knew wasn’t going to be

answered.

Serena watched him.

Something moved behind her eyes.

Not grief.

Something colder.

Something that made the back of my neck go cold even from where I floated beside them, watching all of it.

Russell scrubbed his face with both hands. His voice was barely holding.

“Serena. Go to the gala. We’ll take care of everything here.”

Derek nodded.

“Your first award. You can’t skip it.”

“I’m not going.”

Serena grabbed my hand – my still, cold hand

–

and held on with both of hers.

“I’m staying. I need to be here. For Genevieve’s final goodbye.”

My family looked at her like she’d just said the most beautiful thing they’d ever heard.

Russell pulled her into his arms.

He was crying openly now, shoulders shaking.

“You’re such a good girl,” he managed. “From now on – you’re our only daughter.”

Serena buried her face in his chest.

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The tears kept falling.

But the second they turned away-

Her face went blank.

Completely blank.

Like someone had flipped a switch.

She pulled out her phone, thumbed to her social media, and posted a photo of us together.

The caption read:

Genevieve, may your next life bring you nothing but happiness.

The media had been tearing her apart all night for missing the gala.

By morning, they’d reversed entirely.

Prodigy artist.

Devoted sister.

Future Luna of Blackthorne Pack, too heartbroken to attend her own ceremony.

The kind of headline that makes people cry in comment sections.

Serena scrolled through the praise without blinking.

Not a flicker of warmth.

Not a single real smile.

She went to her room and spread out the last two paintings I’d finished before I died.

Looked at them for a long time.

Then she picked up the black–and–white portrait.

Her mouth curved just slightly.

She called every major outlet she knew.

Announced a grand funeral.

Declared she would present her final masterpiece there – and then retire from painting permanently, out of grief.