Page 14 of The Alpha's Lunar Crown

"Would you have preferred me starving and homeless? Too bad humans don't care about labels like a half-blood and pure-blood."

Shame tears my eyes from her and glues them to the floor. I can't bring myself to see the look in her eyes, knowing I am responsible for it. "I'm deeply sorry, Rora. There's not a day that passes that I don't regret how I treated you. I've spent the last five years looking everywhere for you. I have trackers and private investigators on the lookout. You've not left my mind since the day you left, and If I'm given the chance, I'd take it back."

She pauses, her brows lifting by a fraction. "You did what?"

I seize the moment to take a step closer. She does not recoil. "When you left, I felt like a part of me was ripped away. I waited for you to come home, but days passed, and you didn't. I was scared you might be harmed. I freaked out and sent a search party for you. They came back with no news, and my fear heightened I had—"

"Slow down," she puts up a finger, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why did you have a search party looking for me? It's not like I snuck off in the middle of the night. You were there. You watched me leave. You didn't stop me. I even waited," she paused, drawing in a deep breath. "It doesn't matter what you did or why you did it. It's all in the past."

"But we've met again, and we can start off on a fresh start. Just give me a chance. Let me make up for the damage I've caused."

"This is not some fated second chance meeting Lucien. This is purely coincidence. Phoenix is not very far from Sedona. We were bound to run into each other one day. Whatever happened to your calculative and all-knowing logical brain?"

Her words cut deep, not only because they're sharp and ruthless but because of the truth in them. I wish I had prepared better for this. For someone I've spent a great deal of the past five years searching for, I didn't have the words to answer her questions.

A part of me still feels this is all a dream, and I'll wake up to find she's still missing. I can't believe she's in front of me, speaking to me—no matter how cold the words might be—and looking very well. I want to reach out and touch her, make sure she's not a figment of my imagination. Instead, I tuck my hands into my pockets to prevent them from reaching out. This is hardly the time to initiate body contact, and if my instinct is right, I have no doubt she'll scream for help should I lay a finger on her.

"I'm deeply sorry, Rora. I was young and foolish. I wasn't thinking right."

Her eyes immediately flare in anger. "No, Lucien, you don't get to play the young and foolish card with me. Young and foolish would be going along with your father's every whim without a fight. What you did has nothing to do with age and maturity. Even a child cannot be that cruel. That was intentional. It was premeditated. You thought it through and decided that humiliating me was the best line of action, and you acted it out. So don't give me that crap and youthful exuberance. You were never like the regular youth to begin with."

Her outburst renders me speechless. I search my head for words to explain myself. I open my mouth a couple of times, but no sound escapes. I've never experienced this side of her, and I have no idea what to do with it. The Aurora I know is sweet, soft, kind, and understanding. The woman standing in front of me doesn't seem anything like that, and it scares me a bit. She glances at her wrist, her voice devoid of any emotion. "You have a minute left."

For some reason, the words have the same effect as being told you have just a minute left to breathe. "I was a fool. I was stupid, and I regret everything, every bit of it. I'm a different person now. Just give me another chance."

My eyes are wild. I'm breathless, and my chest is heaving. But she stands the perfect picture of cool and collected. "Time's up. Goodbye, Lucien."

My body springs into action as she turns, clasping my hand around her wrist to stop her. We both freeze, our eyes meeting at the point our skin touches. Charged sparks of electricity erupt from the spot, coursing through my body and sending a hum through me.

Aurora stills for a moment before blinking and tearing herself away from me, rubbing her wrist like she was burned by fire. She cast me one last look of accusation before fleeing into the restaurant.

I stand there, still dazed by the after-effects of our brief encounter. She lingers in the air like a perfume, and my body is still humming with excitement. A part of me is screaming at me to go after her and not leave till she gives an encouraging response lest she vanishes again. But the level-headed part of me that knows better hold still.

Whatever I expect will have to wait. The depth of my betrayal still weighs heavily in the air between us, and it'll take a while to undo the damage. But I'll be patient. It is enough to know where she is. I'll give her some time.

*******

"She has a four-year-old boy? Any records of a husband, past or present?" I query, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder while scrolling through the document my PI sent. I doubt the man at the restaurant is her husband. He showed very little possessiveness to be one.

"There's none. There's also no record of any past relationships. Just her, her son, and her job. She did have a couple of difficult years before her ascent into the corporate world," the PI replies, causing me to scroll back to the top of the file where records of her juggling between a food processing factory by day, a bar at night, and a private tutor during the weekends stare back at me. Guilt clogs my chest, tightening my windpipe and leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.

"Thank you, Jared. That'll be all for now." I turn off my phone and focus on the file in front of me. Veronica St. Claire, COO of the Pinnacle Group. Who would've thought she was hiding behind a fake name all this while?

In less than 24 hours, Jared managed to assemble a detailed report on her, including her workplace. Her success with clients and multiple awards in the finance sector is plastered on every page.

My chest swells with pride as I skim through her achievements. I hate that I was not there for any of them, but I'm glad she is living the life she always wanted and doing what she loves. I swipe to the next page to find details about her son. Jared said he was unable to get a picture or anything tangible, but he did get the basics like age, skin and eye color, and the general gist.

Are you married? Did you find someone after me? Did my actions drive you into the arms of some idiot who knocked you up and abandoned you with a child? A long string of questions filtered through my head, each pointing an accusatory finger at me as the sole cause of whatever encounter she had.

The thought of her being married burned like acid, but I wouldn't put it past her. If she managed to stay hidden for years and keep her son away from prying eyes, she'd certainly have no problem hiding a man. Perhaps she got divorced, or the husband died.

I calculate the time she had to meet a new man, wed him, and have his kid. Unless she met him immediately after she left Blackwood and had his child first, the timeline wasn't tallying. At the same time, Aurora is not reckless by any measure and hates to rush into things. Something is not adding up. Another thought pushes into my mind, one suggestive of a paternity I lacked the balls to explore, causing me to slam the laptop shut.

My heart is throbbing from processing too much information and coming up with more questions than answers. If I continue, I might just find myself in an Aurora-sized hole with no way out. Not that I would complain. It's far better than being apart from her, but I need answers.

I flip the laptop back on, her beautiful face staring back at me. I meant it when I told her she looked good. Every inch of her looked incredibly improved—like she underwent some sort of upgrading program.

From the picture you can tell how well she is. Her skin is lush and supple to the touch. Light tingles erupt in my palms, a reminder of when our skin touched.I know it's a picture, and it lacks emotions, but I can't bring myself to hold eye contact with it. The guilt and shame from my actions won't let me be bold about my intention. There's a very slim chance that she'll be interested in forgiving me, much less giving me a second chance. I mean, she acted like I burned her skin when I held her. She might flip me the bird and get a restraining order, but I intend to take whatever chances I get.

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