The Blind Luna’s Retribution: Return of the Alpha’s Secret Twins

The glittering skyline of Manhattan, visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Vance Group’s premier penthouse, meant absolutely nothing to Alice. For six months, her world had been reduced to an unchanging, pitch-black void. Slap! A heavy, leather-bound document was slammed onto the glass coffee table directly in front of her, the sharp sound echoing through the minimalist room. "Sign it. From this moment on, you are stripped of the Vance name and banished from the pack territory," a deep, merciless voice commanded. It was Reyne Vance. The ruthless billionaire tycoon of Wall Street and the supreme Alpha of the Dark Moon Pack. The man she had loved to the point of destroying herself. Alice’s hands trembled against her knees. She didn't look up—she couldn't. Underneath the thick medical gauze wrapping her eyes, her sockets burned with a phantom pain. "Reyne..." Alice’s voice was a fragile whisper. "Banishment? My eyes have been dark for half a year... I cannot survive on the human streets alone. And... I need to stay. My Lycan core... it just shifted. I know my body. I am four weeks pregnant with your heir." "Shut up!" A terrifying wave of Alpha pressure exploded from Reyne, suffocating the oxygen in the room. He stepped forward, his leather oxfords clicking sharply against the marble. "Do you take me for a fool, Alice?" Reyne growled, gripping her chin with bruising force, tilting her blind face upward. "A month ago, I didn't even touch you. Do not insult my intelligence by using a fake pregnancy to cling to your title. An Omega like you, barren and broken, is incapable of carrying a supreme Alpha's bloodline." Alice choked, tears of frustration soaking into her gauze. He didn't believe her. He couldn't smell the faint, sweet scent of early maternal hormones because his own respiratory senses were still damaged by the very toxin she had cured. Six months ago, Reyne had been targeted by human extremist silver-hunters. A liquified silver bullet had pierced his chest, melting his internal organs. It was Alice who had used a forbidden, lethal ritual to draw the liquid silver out of his body with her own lips, absorbing the corrosive metal into her own bloodstream. The poison had completely dissolved her optic nerves, plunging her into eternal darkness. Yet, when she woke up in the hospital, her sister Cynthia stood by Reyne's side, holding Alice’s stolen family heirloom. Cynthia had claimed the sacrifice as her own, and Reyne, blinded by deception, had elevated the imposter to his side. "Reyne, look at my medical files... I didn't lie to you," Alice gasped, struggling against his iron grip. "The silver didn't make me barren... it's just hidden deep within my core..." "The only thing hidden in your core is malice," a sweet, fragile voice interrupted from the hallway. Cynthia walked in, wearing an elegant white silk gown, her arm wrapped in heavy bandages to fake silver-poisoning scars. She leaned weakly against Reyne’s shoulder, her eyes darting to Alice with venomous satisfaction. "Reyne, don't be too hard on sister. She’s only acting out because she knows my condition is worsening. The doctors said the residual silver in my system is causing my kidneys to fail. Sister is just terrified that... that you’ll ask her to save me." Reyne's expression softened instantly as he looked at Cynthia, his eyes melting into a protective warmth that Alice hadn't seen in half a year. "She has no choice," Reyne said coldly, turning back to Alice, his voice dropping to a freezing sub-zero temperature. "Alice, you allegedly poisoned Cynthia’s medicine last week out of jealousy. The pack council demands your execution. But Cynthia pleaded for your life." He released her chin, shoving her back brutally. Bang! Alice’s lower back slammed violently against the sharp edge of the mahogany desk. A sudden, sharp, white-hot spasm tore through her lower abdomen. It wasn't a baby moving—it was the agonizing, violent contraction of her uterus as the physical trauma threatened an early miscarriage of the microscopic, four-week-old embryo inside her. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball, her hands clawing at her stomach in pure, primitive terror. “No... please, keep hold...” she prayed internally, feeling a terrifying warmth begin to seep through her clothes. "Guards," Reyne ordered, completely indifferent to her agony. "Take her to the sub-basement. Prepare the medical team. Tomorrow at dawn, we extract her kidney to save Cynthia."