บททั้งหมดของ The Alpha’s 90-Day Luna: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Mia Turner’s face was a mask of livid frustration as she and Blake retreated into the grand hall of the Pacific Crown Gala. After the humiliation George Benedict had dealt them on the red carpet, she felt like a cur who had been kicked in the ribs, desperate for a dark corner to lick her wounds."How did she outscent us, Blake?" Mia hissed, her voice a jagged whisper. "She knew the invitation was shredded. She was playing us the entire time, dangling our own arrogance in front of us while she mapped out a better trail."Blake’s eyes were fixed on my back as I walked several paces ahead of them. "She didn't just find a way in," he muttered, his pride bruising. "She was hunting us. She let us think we were the ones holding the leash so she could lead us right into this trap.""If she’s developed that kind of instinct," Mia retorted, "it’s only because you were too soft with your management. Mark my words—if we don't break her tonight, she’ll be the one leading the pack tomorrow."Riley

I woke up in the Vale Hills Estate with the sun hitting the silver fur rugs, feeling more like a queen than I had in years. The Pacific Crown Gala had been a triumph for me, but for the Turner siblings, the moon was about to set on their era of lies.Mia Turner had spent the night salivating, waiting for the Vale Media Group to descend like a pack of starving wolves upon my reputation. She assumed a powerhouse of that magnitude would shred any low-ranking model who dared "scheme" for a photo with the High Alpha. What she had forgotten was the nature of the man at the pinnacle.Connor was no one’s pawn. He had stood for that photo knowing exactly what she would try to do. He had laid the trap, and Mia, blinded by her own venom, had sprinted right into the jaws of it. By dragging the Vale name into her petty Studio war, she had committed the ultimate transgression.When the digital scrolls updated that morning, the headlines weren't about my "scandal." They were a public execution."EXP

The morning after the Pacific Crown Gala, the scent of my victory was still thick in the air, but the rot inside Turner Studios was only deepening. Blake was being cornered by the pack elders. They were losing faith; his inability to either break my spirit or bring me back into the fold made him look like a weak Alpha. He was becoming more useless to the studio than a stray guarding the trash, and his scent was sour with the stench of a failing leader.Several investors had already signaled their intent to pull their support. They openly mocked Blake during their Council meetings, leaving him to retreat to his office in a feral rage, smashing everything in sight. He didn't just hate me; he wanted to see my blood in the dirt.A moment later, the new recruits Mia had scouted—the young yearlings of the industry—arrived to sign their blood-oaths. When Blake saw Ariel, he felt a jolt of recognition. She was the winner of the recent regional hunt, a girl who moved with a raw, unrefined grac

The following sunrise, as Blake and Riley entered the Turner Studios den, they were greeted by a mountain of tributary gifts piled upon Blake’s mahogany desk. Riley’s eyes darted across the colorful wrappings, a cold pit forming in her stomach as she realized she had completely forgotten it was Blake’s naming day. In seasons past, she’d have meticulously planned a hunt or a private moon-ritual to keep him tethered to her side, ensuring I was left waiting like a discarded stray. But the winds had shifted. After tasting the forbidden adrenaline of her secret trysts with the Judge, Riley found she could no longer return to the mundane loyalty of the pack."Blake, my love, the pup has been draining my strength these last few suns," she purred, sliding her arms around his neck and tracing slow circles over his heart. "I haven't had the energy to track down a worthy gift for you." She knew exactly which buttons to press to soften his growl.Blake caught her hand, his voice dropping into a f

Despite the sudden storm of venom from the tabloids and the fractured howling of the public, I refused to let their noise disrupt my spirit. I traded my runway silks for a flowy, Bohemian maxi dress, letting the wind catch the fabric as I reclined on the deck of a private yacht. Connor sat across from me, shedding his usual heavy burden for a casual white linen shirt that made him look less like a king and more like a man at peace. I had severed my connection to the world, leaving my phone tucked away in a villa drawer; only my camera remained in my hand.Connor pulled me into his heat, his arms a familiar, grounding weight. At first, I sensed his worry—he thought I was masking my scent, pretending to be unbothered. But as he looked into my eyes, he saw only the calm of a predator who knows the terrain. I hadn't lost myself to the glitz of the city; I was still the wolf who knew how to survive the winter."Are you certain you don't wish to retreat to the Vale Hills?" he murmured again