The Alpha's Disposable Luna

Chapter 4: A Promise Broken

Killian POV

The hospital room smells of blood and fear, a scent that claws at my wolf, urging it to the surface. Estela lies there, pale and defiant, her eyes blazing with a fire I thought I’d snuffed out months ago. She’s alive. Alive, when the doctor swore she was dead, her body donated to science, her scent erased from my world. My mate. My luna. The woman I drove away.

And in her arms, a baby. Tiny, fragile, with eyes that mirror hers—green, piercing, accusing. My chest tightens, a vise of guilt and rage. The child’s scent hits me, a blend of Estela’s warmth and something unmistakably mine. My daughter. Our daughter. A secret she kept from me, even as she lay dying—or so I was told.

“Killian,” Estela says, her voice sharp, cutting through the haze of my thoughts. “Get out.”

Her words are a slap, but I can’t move. My eyes are locked on the baby, her tiny chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. She’s weak, too weak, and the realization hits me like a fist: she’s not just mine. She’s dying.

“How?” My voice is rough, barely human, as I take a step closer. “How are you here? They said you were gone. They said—”

“They lied,” she snaps, clutching the baby tighter, her body curling protectively around her. “And you believed them. Just like you believed I was after your money. Your power.”

Her words cut deeper than any claw, each one a reminder of the accusations I hurled at her, the papers I signed, the way I let Mia’s poison seep into my heart. I want to roar, to tear the room apart, but the sight of that child—my child—holds me in place.

“She’s mine,” I say, my voice low, a growl simmering beneath it. “You can’t keep her from me.”

Estela’s eyes flash, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “You don’t get to claim her now, Killian. Not after everything.”

“Everything?” I step closer, my wolf clawing at my control, desperate to touch the child, to protect her. “You left me, Estela. You walked away. And now you’re here, hiding my daughter?”

Her laugh is cold, jagged, like broken glass. “Hiding? I was saving her. From you. From your world. From the alpha who threw me away like trash.”

The truth in her words burns, but I can’t let it show. Not now. Not when she’s looking at me like I’m the monster in her nightmares. My gaze shifts to the baby, her tiny hands twitching, her face pale. My wolf whines, a sound I haven’t heard in years, a plea to fix this, to make it right.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, my voice softer now, though it trembles with the effort to stay calm.

Estela hesitates, her eyes flickering with something—fear, maybe, or desperation. “Her heart,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s failing. She needs surgery. A specialist. Dr. Elias Marrow.”

The name hits me like a bullet. Marrow. The best cardiac surgeon in the continent, a man whose fees could bankrupt a small pack. My mind races, calculating the cost, the logistics, the time. I can pay for it. I will pay for it. But the question gnaws at me: why didn’t she come to me? Why didn’t she tell me?

“You should have called me,” I say, my voice tight with anger, with hurt. “She’s my daughter, Estela. I had a right to know.”

“A right?” Her voice rises, sharp and fierce, and the baby stirs in her arms, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Estela lowers her voice, but the venom remains. “You lost that right when you chose Mia. When you signed those papers. When you let me walk out of your life.”

I flinch, the memory of that night searing my mind—her standing in our bedroom, the divorce papers in her hand, her eyes burning with a strength I didn’t recognize. I thought she was bluffing. I thought she’d come back. I was wrong.

“I didn’t know,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “I didn’t know about her.”

“You didn’t want to know,” she shoots back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You didn’t want me. So don’t stand there acting like you care now.”

The baby whimpers again, and Estela’s attention shifts, her face softening as she strokes the child’s cheek. The sight is a knife in my chest, twisting with every gentle touch. I’ve seen her like this before, in the early days, when she looked at me with love instead of hate. When she was my luna, my mate, my everything.

“I’ll pay for the surgery,” I say, my voice firm, a vow. “Whatever she needs. Whatever it takes.”

Estela’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “And what do you want in return? Me? Her? You think you can buy us back?”

“No,” I say, though the lie burns my tongue. I want her back. I want them both. But I see the truth in her eyes—she’ll never forgive me. Not for Mia. Not for the years of pain. “I just want her to live.”

She studies me, her gaze piercing, searching for the catch. I hold her stare, letting her see the truth, or as much of it as I can bear to show. My wolf is restless, clawing at me to claim them, to drag them back to the pack, to make them mine again. But I force it down, force myself to stand still.

“Fine,” she says at last, her voice cold. “Pay for it. But don’t think this changes anything. You don’t get to play the hero now.”

The words sting, but I nod, turning to the doctor who’s been hovering silently by the door. “Make the call. Get Marrow here. Now.”

He nods and slips out, leaving us alone. The silence is heavy, broken only by the baby’s soft breaths, each one a reminder of how fragile she is. I want to reach out, to touch her, but Estela’s glare stops me cold.

“What’s her name?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

Estela hesitates, her lips parting, then closing. For a moment, I think she won’t tell me. But then she speaks, her voice soft, almost tender. “Paisley.”

Paisley. The name settles in my chest, warm and heavy, like a stone smoothed by a river. My daughter. My Paisley.

“I’ll save her,” I say, meeting Estela’s eyes. “I swear it.”

She doesn’t respond, but her silence is answer enough. She doesn’t trust me. And why should she?

Four Years Later

Estela POV

The airport terminal buzzes with life, a chaotic symphony of voices and footsteps that drowns out the ghosts of my past. My children—Ryder, Parker, and Riley—race ahead, their laughter a bright thread in the tapestry of noise. They’re four years old now, wild and fierce, their wolf blood shining through in their green eyes and unruly dark hair. They’re Killian’s, in ways I can’t escape, but they’re mine first. Always mine.

I adjust the strap of my bag, my fingers brushing the leather-bound notebook where I’ve sketched the formulas for La Louve, my perfume line. It’s my empire, built from the ashes of the life I left behind. Every bottle, every scent, is a testament to what I can do without him. But even now, standing in Nightfang City’s airport, I feel his shadow, the weight of his territory pressing against me.

“Estela!” Linda’s voice cuts through the crowd, warm and familiar. She’s leaning against a sleek black SUV, her arms open wide, her smile as bright as the sun. My best friend, my confidante, the one who helped me vanish when I needed to become someone else.

The kids barrel into her, their shouts of “Auntie Linda!” echoing through the terminal. She laughs, scooping them up, her dark curls bouncing as she spins Riley in a circle.

“Look at you three!” she says, her voice thick with affection. “You’re taller than wolves already!”

I reach her, and she pulls me into a hug, her scent—lavender and woodsmoke—wrapping around me like a blanket. “I missed you,” I whisper, my voice catching.

“Missed you more,” she says, her forehead pressing against mine. Her eyes flicker to the kids, then back to me, a question in her gaze. “They’re… getting harder to hide.”

I glance at Ryder and Parker, their sharp features a mirror of their father’s, their green eyes too much like his. Riley’s softer, but her stubbornness, her fire—that’s Killian, too. My heart twists, a mix of love and fear.

“I know,” I say, my voice low. “But I’m not ready. Not yet.”

Linda nods, her hand squeezing mine. “You’ve got time. But this city… it’s his, Estela. You’re playing a dangerous game coming back.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I say, my gaze drifting to the kids. “The launch of La Louve is here. If I want to take it global, I have to be here.”

She sighs, but her smile returns as she ruffles Parker’s hair. “Then we’ll keep you safe. All of you.”

As we pile into the SUV, the kids chattering about planes and candy, I feel it—a prickle at the back of my neck, a whisper of instinct. I glance out the window, scanning the crowd, but there’s nothing. No pine, no smoke, no alpha. Just my paranoia, my fear.

But then I see her. A flash of auburn hair, a smirk I’d know anywhere. Mia. She’s watching me, her eyes glinting with something dangerous, something knowing.

How did Mia find Estela? And what does she know about the secrets Estela’s fighting to protect?