The Alpha’s Regret Claiming His Luna novel Chapter 19

Chapter 13: Shattered Memories–2

(Ethan’s POV)

I couldn’t stand by and watch this interrogation any longer. Stepping forward, I positioned myself protectively in front of Cassandra, shielding her from Olivia’s wrath.

“Enough!” I barked, shocked by Olivia’s transformation. Where was the gentle woman I’d

known for three years? This fury–filled stranger was unrecognizable.

“Stop making trouble over a broken ceramic trinket. Buy another one if it matters so much,

why bully Cassandra?”

(Olivia’s POV)

A loud slap rang out through the room.

My palm stung from the impact as it connected with Ethan’s face. The sound echoed in the

sudden silence that followed.

Both he and Cassandra stared at me, stunned by this unprecedented defiance. Ethan’s hand

slowly rose to touch his reddening cheek, disbelief written across his features.

“Get lost!” I screamed hoarsely, my voice breaking with emotion. “Who are you to forgive on

my behalf?”

(Cassandra’s POV)

I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. How dare this nobody slap Ethan? My Ethan!

Rage boiled inside me as I pushed him aside, lunging at Olivia with my hands outstretched

like claws.

“How dare you hit him!” I shrieked.

But before I could reach her, a second slap landed squarely on my cheek. The force of it

snapped my head to the side, leaving a vivid red mark that burned like fire.

Humiliated and enraged, I raised my hand to retaliate. But Olivia was faster. She seized my

wrist in a grip so tight it hurt, then flung me aside like I weighed nothing.

I crashed to the ground, my palm landing directly on the razor–sharp ceramic shards scattered

across the floor. Pain shot through my hand as the fragments sliced into my skin.

Blood immediately welled up, dripping from my palm onto the hardwood floor.

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< Chapter 13: Shattered Memor

“Ahhh–my hand! My hand!” I screamed, clutching my bleeding palm to my chest.

(Ethan’s POV)

I rushed to Cassandra’s side, panic gripping my heart at the sight of her blood.

+25 Puntos >

“Wanwan, are you alright?” The pet name I used only in our most intimate moments escaped without thought.

I gently took her injured hand, examining the cuts. Relief washed over me when I saw they weren’t deep enough to cause permanent damage. Still, the sight of her blood made my protective instincts flare.

(Olivia’s POV)

I looked down at the bleeding Cassandra, feeling no sympathy whatsoever. My gaze was icy and merciless as I watched her performance.

But her eyes remained frozen with cold contempt. “She should apologize to me for breaking my mother’s keepsake.”

+25 Puntos >

Once alone, I slowly knelt beside the scattered ceramic remnants. My trembling fingers

reached out to touch the jagged shards, tears dripping silently onto the cold fragments.

“Mom, I’m sorry… I failed to protect the gift you left me… I’m so sorry, Mom…” My voice broke into choking sobs as I grieved over the irretrievable loss.

Memories of my mother flooded my mind, washing over me in waves of bittersweet pain.

Back when I was twelve, my mother fell severely ill. The gentle, graceful woman with her ever–present soft smile was reduced to a frail figure, pale and wasted away by disease.

Sarah Winters, once the vibrant Luna of the Winters pack, now confined to a hospital bed, her strength diminishing day by day from the rare wolfsbane poisoning that even her enhanced

healing abilities couldn’t overcome.

Young Olivia, just entering middle school, would rush daily not home, but straight to the medical facility after classes. I would sit by her bedside, sharing stories from school, singing

the new songs my teachers taught.

“Mama Wolf, when will you get better?” my bright young eyes shimmered with barely hidden sorrow, using the nickname I’d given her when I was little.

Sarah gently stroked my honey–brown hair, lips lifting into a tender smile despite her pallor. “The doctor says I’ll be leaving the medical facility soon,” she whispered.

“Really?” My eyes gleamed with hope, childish innocence preventing me from seeing the truth.

“Mhm,” her voice soft but resolute, “In a few days, I’ll leave the medical facility and celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Yay!” My face lit up, believing every word. I thought my mother would soon recover

completely.

Only later did I learn that “leaving” didn’t mean recovery. It meant the doctors were powerless; my mother was brought home simply to spend her final days alongside family, to fulfill those last precious wishes.

The ceramic wolf figurine we crafted together on that final birthday was the last gift my mother had given me–and now Cassandra had destroyed it out of spite.

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