Alpha, I Won’t Be Your Luna Again Chapter 02

Alpha, I Won’t Be Your Luna Again Chapter 02

“Mira, you’re awake?”

I opened my eyes to a blinding white ceiling.

A doctor stood by the bed, a chart in his hand.

“You’ve got a fractured right arm, soft-tissue damage in your left leg, smoke inhalation, blunt trauma to the abdomen, and cuts all over. You’re out of danger now.”

My lips were dry, my throat too raw to make a sound.

“During surgery we found you were six weeks pregnant.”

“I’m so sorry. We couldn’t save the baby.”

I stared at the ceiling, a ringing in my ears.

Pregnant.

I’d actually been pregnant.

For three years I’d longed for this baby.

To boost my chances, I’d gone through countless treatments, taken a healer’s remedy, sat through a Moon Goddess blessing ritual, stuck to every diet restriction there was.

Every disappointment, I told myself the next time would be different.

And now I finally had.

And the baby was gone.

The one who killed him was his own father.

I turned my head, picked up the phone off the nightstand, and called Nathan.

It rang for a long time before he picked up.

The music was loud — clinking glasses, laughter, all crammed together.

Lillian’s voice was piercingly close.

“Nathan, come help me cut the cake!”

I gripped the phone and rasped, “Nathan, I’m in the hospital.”

“So?” His tone was flat. “Are you done acting out?”

“I was pregnant.”

The other end went quiet for a second.

I kept going.

“I lost the baby.”

Then he actually sneered.

“Mira, you’re really something.”

“First a fire, then the ambulance line, and now you’re making up a miscarriage?”

“Why not go bigger? Say you almost died.”

I closed my eyes.

“I jumped from the second floor.”

“Keep acting.” He scoffed. “It’s Lillian’s birthday. You won’t be happy till you’ve ruined it, will you?”

My voice was barely a whisper.

“Just come to the hospital and see for yourself.”

“I don’t have time for your drama.”

He hung up.

I set the phone down and opened Instagram.

Lillian had just uploaded a new Instagram Story.

In the photo she sat beaming in front of a birthday cake, Nathan standing behind her, one hand on her party hat, his eyes soft, like he was looking at something precious.

The caption read:

[Someone promised to spend every birthday with me from now on.]

I looked at it for two seconds, closed the app, and texted my best friend — Elowen Thornfield, the best werewolf lawyer in the Northern Territory.

[Draw up a Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement for me.]

She replied instantly.

[You’re finally ready to break the mate bond?]

I wrote back.

[The sooner the better.]