Page 59 of Luna On The Run: I Stole Alpha's Sons

“A mother can’t be expected just to forget their child,” she tells him before clenching her jaw.

“Louise!” my father growls, and I turn my head to find the man standing a little bit away from us, his aura and temper rising the longer she takes.

“I have been looking for you. Patrick saw you cross borders!” he bellowed at her, reaching forward and grabbing her arm. He jerks her to his side, and Luke whimpers, refusing to let go of her hand when Axton finally speaks.

“Because I asked her to, Derrick,” Axton snaps.

My father lifts his head, glaring in our direction. “You what?”

“As the head council member, I am allowed to request anyone’s presence, even your Luna’s. Now let her go. You’re scaring your son. She was doing nothing wrong. Only what I asked of her.”

“And what is it you asked of her?” my father says, letting my mother’s arm go.

I chew my lip, yet Axton lies smoothly as if this has been his idea all along.

“Elena requested to see her mother and Luke. That is why your wife was on my territory,” Axton tells him.

My father glares at him and turns his head, staring at my mother’s now retreating figure as she walks back to her car. Axton taps my shoulders, wanting me to get up, and I do, almost robotically. He leans down, grabbing the bags I had at my feet, before chucking money on the table. When I turn, my father is glaring at me.

His eyes drop to my belly, and his top lip curls in disgust. I watch as he walks away when Axton grabs my arm, and we start walking in the opposite direction. I can feel his rage. Lexa urges me to remain quiet, so I do.

When we reach the car, he lets me go and opens the passenger door. I watch as he moves to the trunk and tosses everything in.

“Get in the car, Elena!” he snaps, his voice almost a furious growl.

Lexa moves forward with me, fear coiling inside us as hairs rise on the back of my neck.

Hesitant, I can’t seem to get my feet to move when he stops in front of me. He looks up at each end of the street, so many eyes watching us, then he leans closer, wrapping his arms around us and burying his face in my hair. No matter the angle, it looks like two lovers hugging.

“You cause a scene, and you won’t leave your fucking room,” he growls next to my ear. “Now, get in the car, Elena.” He presses his lips to my forehead before moving toward the passenger door and motioning for us to get in.

“I don’t like the energy around him,” Lexa whimpers, and she is right. Neither do I. It now makes sense why he stuck up for my mother. I have some false hope it was for her, not for the sake of appearances. He can’t look bad to the public, but behind closed doors, I know what sort of monster he hides.

“Don’t do it,” Lexa begs.

“And what, Lexa? We run, he will drag us back and then be angrier that we made a scene in public,” I tell her.

She whimpers because she knows I am right.

“Khan won’t let him harm us, and he won’t risk his boys.”

“He doesn’t have to touch us to hurt us, Elena,” she murmurs, wandering off.

Axton holds his hand out to me, and I look at it, feeling everyone’s eyes boring into us. My hand trembles as I place it in his, knowing Lexa is right. He may not hurt physically, but I know there will be hell to pay when I get home. Axton shuts the door before moving around to the other side of the car and climbing in. He starts the car and pulls away from the curb, and I suck in a breath.

He says nothing, adding to the tension writhing through my body. Even when we arrive, that tension is stronger when I see Eli, his Beta, and nearly every pack warrior in the building.

All are staring, their expressions ranging from pitiful to curious. Others’ eyes dart away as quickly as they meet mine as he leads me through the apartment complex before taking me to the elevator.

He hits the button and stares at the steel doors. Still, he has said nothing. When they open, he grabs my arm, leading me down the hall to where the guard stands by the door, his eyes on the floor.

Axton growls at him as he opens the door, stuffing me into the apartment. He tosses the bags from the car onto the dining table, and I move to rush toward my room, needing to escape his oppressive aura.

“Who paid for this?” he asks, and I stop.

I am about to lie and say my mother, but he must have read that on my face.

“Shelley from the boutique said you had your own money. Don’t lie to me,” he says.

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