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

CHAPTER 5

I hated the smell of home.

The iron gates of the Blackwood estate creaked open, a sound that used to represent safety but now felt like the jaws of a trap closing shut. As the SUV rolled up the winding driveway, the ancient oaks arched overhead, their heavy branches draped in moss like mourners at a funeral. Everything was exactly as I’d left it—the manicured lawns, the stone statues of past Alphas, the oppressive air of tradition that suffocated anything it couldn’t control.

But as the car pulled to a stop in front of the main manor, I caught my reflection in the window. The girl who had crawled out of here three years ago was dead. In her place sat a woman with cold eyes, a surgical mind, and a heart made of obsidian.

"We’re here," Roman said. His voice was low, tentative, as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly would make me vanish again.

"I have eyes, Roman. I can see that," I replied, grabbing my medical bag.

I stepped out of the car, and the air hit me—pine, damp earth, and the underlying pheromones of a pack in distress. It was thick with the scent of fear. Several pack members stood on the porch, their faces pale. When they saw me, I watched the recognition set in.

"Raina?" someone whispered. "Is that... the Hale girl?"

I didn't look at them. I didn't nod. I walked toward the entrance with a stride that forced them to move out of my way. I wasn't here for a homecoming; I was here for a containment.

"Raina! Dear, we heard you were coming, but I didn't believe it."

I stopped. Standing in the foyer, draped in a silk robe that cost more than a nurse’s yearly salary, was Seraphine Duvall. She looked perfect. Her dark hair was swept back, her skin glowing, the mark of the Luna—his mark—faintly visible on the curve of her neck.

She approached me with a practiced, pitying smile. "It’s so brave of you to return after... well, after everything. I suppose the human city wasn't as welcoming as you hoped? Medical school must have been such a struggle for a girl of your station."

In the old days, that subtle jab at my background would have made me flush with shame. I would have looked to Roman for protection.

Now, I just looked at her like she was a fascinating specimen of bacteria.

"Medical school was fine, Seraphine," I said, my voice smooth and clinical. "And my 'station' is currently the only thing standing between this pack and a mass grave. So, unless you have a PhD in virology hidden under that silk, I suggest you step back. You’re breathing in my sterile field."

Seraphine’s smile curdled. She looked to Roman, her eyes wide with manufactured hurt. "Roman, she’s being—"

"She’s being a doctor, Seraphine," Roman snapped, his voice rough. He didn't even look at her. His eyes were pinned on me, tracking my every move with a hunger that made my skin prickle. "Where is the Beta? I need the initial patient logs."

"In the west wing," Seraphine said, her voice tightening. "But really, Roman, is she the only one? She looks so... tired. Perhaps she should rest in the servants' quarters first?"

I laughed. It was a short, sharp sound that echoed in the high-ceilinged hall. I stepped into Seraphine’s personal space, tall and unyielding. "I’ve pulled forty-eight-hour shifts in Level 1 Trauma centers, Seraphine. I don't get tired. But if you keep talking, I might get bored. And when I’m bored, I tend to lose interest in saving people who annoy me."

"You arrogant b***h," she whispered, her mask finally slipping.

"That’s 'Doctor b***h' to you," I flicked a piece of lint off her shoulder. "Now, get out of my way."

I brushed past her, Roman trailing behind me like a dark shadow. We reached the improvised infirmary in the west wing, and the smell of rot and sickness hit me like a physical wall. It was worse than he’d described. Row after row of cots were filled with shifters, their skin grey, their breathing labored and wet.

"Raina, look out!" Kael, the Beta, shouted from across the room.

A young man, barely twenty, had suddenly lunged upright on his cot. He began to cough—a horrific, bubbling sound. Blood sprayed from his mouth, dark and arterial, splashing onto the floor. He began to seize, his body arching violently as his wolf tried to shift in a desperate, misguided attempt to heal the damage.

The nurses froze. Roman took a step forward, his hand going to his throat as if he could feel the boy’s agony.

"Don't touch him!" I barked.

I moved before anyone else could react. I didn't have my gown on yet, but I didn't care. I grabbed a tray of instruments, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and threw myself onto the cot, pinning the boy down with my knees.

"Intubate! Now!" I screamed at a stunned nurse. "He’s drowning in his own blood! Get me a sedative and a chest tube!"

"Raina, he’s shifting!" Kael yelled. "He’ll crush your ribs!"

"I said get me the goddamn kit!"

I didn't wait. I grabbed a scalpel and made a swift, precise incision between the boy’s ribs. The sound of the air hissing out was sickening, but his seizing slowed. I shoved the tube in, stitching it into place with hands that didn't tremble for a single second. I reached into his mouth, clearing the clotted blood from his airway with my bare fingers until I heard the first, ragged gasp of air hit his lungs.

I stayed there for ten minutes, covered in his blood, holding his airway open until the sedative took hold and his wolf retreated.

Silence descended on the infirmary. The only sound was the hiss of the oxygen tank and the heavy, ragged breathing of the Alpha standing behind me.

I stood up, peeling off my bloody gloves. I wiped a stray drop of blood from my cheek with the back of my arm and looked at the nurse.

"Clean him up. Change the filter on that vent. If anyone else starts to hemorrhage, you call me immediately. Do not, under any circumstances, let them shift."