Alpha’s Regret: The Lost Luna Returns with a Son

CHAPTER 4

"Are you out of your f*****g mind, Raina?"

Elara didn’t just speak the words; she hurled them at me like stones. We were in my penthouse, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a city that usually felt like a sanctuary, but now felt like a cage. My sister was pacing the length of the Persian rug, her eyes flashing with a protective, journalistic fire.

"He’s a predator," she hissed, stopping to point a finger at my chest. "He’s the man who humiliated you in front of every high-blood in the northern territories. He’s the reason you spent three months waking up screaming. And now you’re just going to… pack a bag and follow him back to that hellhole?"

"It’s not for him, Elara," I said, my hands steady as I folded a set of scrubs. "It’s a virus. Hemorrhagic. If it jumps the species barrier or spreads to the city, everyone is at risk. Including Soren."

"Don't use the doctor card with me," she snapped. "There are other doctors. There are other specialists. Why does it have to be you?"

"Because he’s right," I said, finally looking up. "I am the best. And if I don't go, and those kids die, I have to live with that. I’m not a coward, Elara. I’m not the girl who ran away anymore. I’m the woman who goes in and cuts the cancer out."

"You’re walking into a trap," Elara whispered, her voice cracking. "He’ll see Soren’s face in yours. He’ll smell the truth on you."

"He won't." I stepped toward her, grabbing her shoulders. "Because you are taking Soren to the coastal house. Tonight. You will stay off the grid. No phones, no social media. If Roman Blackwood even suspects I have a child, I will lose everything. I need you to be my fortress while I’m in the lion's den."

She searched my eyes, looking for a weakness, a sign that I was still pining for the Alpha. She found nothing but the cold, clinical steel of a surgeon. Finally, she nodded.

"If he touches you," she muttered, "I’ll write an exposé that will burn his holdings to the goddamn ground."

"I know you will."

I walked down the hall to Soren’s room. The door was ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling onto the hardwood. My son was sitting on his bed, clutching a stuffed wolf, an irony that bit at my heart every time I saw it. He looked up, his grey-blue eyes wide and far too knowing for a three-year-old.

"Mama?" he whispered.

"Hey, Little King." I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him into my lap. He smelled like baby shampoo and safety. "You’re going on an adventure with Auntie Elara tonight. To the house with the big tide pools."

"Are you coming?"

"Not yet. I have some people who are sick, and I’m the only one who can help them."

He leaned his head against my chest, right over my heart. He went quiet for a moment, the way he always did when he was sensing something. Shifter children didn't have words for the Aura, but they felt the weight of it.

"The storm man is outside," Soren murmured.

I froze. My blood turned to ice in my veins. "What did you say?"

"The man who smells like lightning," Soren said, looking at the window. "He’s sad. But he’s loud."

I squeezed him a little too tight, my heart hammering against his ear. Roman was downstairs in the parking lot, but his presence was so massive, so desperate, that my son could feel him through thirty floors of concrete and steel. It was a terrifying reminder of the biological tether I could never truly cut.

"He’s just a man, Soren," I said, my voice thick. "And I’m going to make sure he stays far away. I love you."

"Love you, Mama."

I kissed the top of his head, handed him over to Elara, and watched them disappear down the service elevator. I stood in the empty hallway for a long minute, letting the silence swallow me. I had to be perfect. One slip, one scent of milk or motherly instinct, and the life I’d built would shatter.

I grabbed my bag and headed down to the lobby.

Before I could reach the glass doors leading to the driveway where Roman was waiting, a hand caught my arm. I spun, my wolf snapping its teeth in my mind, only to see the calm, refined face of Cassian Vale.

"Raina," he said, his brow furrowed in genuine concern. "I heard you just pulled yourself off the surgery schedule for the week. What’s going on?"

"A private consult, Cassian. Out of town."

He didn't let go. He stepped closer, his scent of clean linen and expensive soap acting as a buffer against the storm waiting outside. "I saw him, Raina. I saw the man in the lobby. I saw the way you looked at him. That wasn't a 'consult' look. That was a 'ghost from the past' look."

"It’s professional," I lied, my voice tight.

"Is it?" Cassian leaned in, his voice dropping. "Because he’s standing by a black SUV out there like he’s ready to tear the world apart to get to you. If you’re in trouble… if he’s forcing you, I can call hospital security. I can call the police. You don't have to go."

"I have to," I said. "He’s not forcing me, Cassian. It’s my choice."

Cassian’s expression shifted. It wasn't just professional concern anymore; it was the look of a man who realized he was losing ground to a rival he didn't understand. He reached up, his thumb brushing my cheekbone in a gesture that was far more intimate than our usual rapport.

"Then let me go with you," he said. "You need a second set of eyes. A neurosurgeon could be useful if the virus has central nervous system complications. Don't go back there alone."

"I can't—"

"Raina." He stepped even closer, his heat radiating off him. "I’ve waited two years for you to look at me. Don't walk back into the dark without someone holding a light for you."

Before I could respond, the heavy glass door of the lobby swung open with a violent force.

Roman Blackwood stood there, his presence crashing into the room like a physical blow. His eyes were no longer grey; they were bleeding into a dark, predatory amber. He looked at Cassian’s hand on my face, and a low, guttural growl vibrated in the air, a sound so primal it made the receptionist behind the desk gasp.

"The car is waiting, Dr. Hale," Roman said, his voice a jagged edge of ice and unspeakable jealousy.

Cassian didn't flinch. He turned slightly, shielding me with his body. "We were just discussing the medical necessity of a second consultant, Alpha. I’m Dr. Vale."

Roman’s gaze raked over Cassian with lethal contempt. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't acknowledge the title. He simply stepped into the lobby, his aura flaring so brightly I could almost see the ripples in the air.

"The Blackwood Pack doesn't require a second opinion," Roman hissed, his eyes fixed on me. "We require her. Move aside."

"Cassian, stop," I said, stepping between them. I could feel the tension snapping between the two men, the civilized healer and the primal king. It was a volatile cocktail of testosterone and ancient territorial instincts. "I'm going. Alone. Cassian, thank you. I’ll call you when I can."

I didn't look at Roman as I walked past him. I didn't want him to see the flicker of fear in my eyes, not fear of him, but fear of the chaos he brought with him.

I walked out into the humid night air, the city lights blurred by a sudden, light rain. The black SUV was idling, its headlights cutting through the mist like the eyes of a beast. A Beta I didn't recognize held the door open for me.

I climbed into the back seat, the leather cold against my legs. A moment later, the door on the other side opened, and Roman slid in. The space was too small. The air was immediately saturated with him—his heat, his scent, his suffocable, crushing gravity.

He didn't speak. He signaled the driver, and the car lurched forward, pulling away from the safety of the Hilton, away from Cassian, and away from the life where I was a god.

As we hit the highway, leaving the neon glow of Silverridge behind for the encroaching darkness of the forest, I felt the shift. The city skyline began to shrink in the rearview mirror, and with it, my sense of peace.

I looked out the window at the passing trees, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. I wasn't the broken girl who had fled this place in the middle of the night, bleeding and rejected. I was a weapon now. I was a surgeon. I was a mother with a secret that could topple a throne.

But as the car crossed the invisible line into Blackwood territory, a familiar ache blossomed in my chest, the tattered remnant of a bond that refused to die.

I wasn't just going back to a medical crisis. I was walking back into a war where the primary casualty would be my soul.

"You’re shaking," Roman said, his voice surprisingly soft in the darkness of the car.

"I’m cold," I lied, my voice like flint. "Turn up the heat and shut up, Roman. We aren't friends. We’re just two people trying to stop a funeral."

He didn't reply, but I felt his gaze on me—heavy, longing, and dangerously observant.

The road narrowed. The forest closed in.

Everything I had fought for was thirty stories up in a city behind me, and everything that had destroyed me was sitting three inches to my left.

As the gates of the Blackwood estate appeared in the distance, glowing like the entrance to an underworld, I realized the truth. I wasn't running anymore. I was walking straight into the heart of an unfinished history, and this time, I was the one holding the blade.