All Chapters of Broken by his Luna The Alpha king second chance : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

POV Kristen The wine glass slipped from my hands! It hit the marble floor and exploded .... red everywhere, like something had been murdered .... and I just stood there, barefoot in the kitchen doorway, staring at the mess I'd made. The wine spread across the white marble, filling them like it had somewhere to be.The mess was not the glass. It was in our bedroom.My brain was still catching up. My feet had already stopped working. I could hear them .... laughter, low and breathless .... and my wolf, Mira, had gone completely silent inside me. Not sleeping. Not calm. Gone. No warning. No growl. Just .... absence, where she'd been a warm and constant presence my entire adult life.I forced myself to take one step forward. Then another. My bare feet were cold on the floor and I noticed that distantly, the way you notice small sensations when your mind is refusing to process the large ones.The bedroom door was open. I hadn't even touched it. Derrik always left it open because he said

POV Kristen I did the only reasonable thing a person could do when the Alpha King of all werewolves told her she was his.I laughed in his face.It came out wrong .... too high, too sharp at the edges, the kind of laugh that sounds like it's made of something other than humor and might tip into something else entirely if you're not careful with it. I took two large steps backwards and put a parking meter between us, which would not stop an Alpha King from doing anything he'd decided to do but gave my hands something to grip."I don't belong to anyone” ," I said. "I stopped belonging to anyone three years ago. I gave that up voluntarily and I have not regretted it once. So whatever this is .... whatever bond you think you're feeling .... I need you to go get it in some other place, because I am definitely the wrong person for it."Dylan Cole watched me the way a man watches a puzzle he has already solved and is simply waiting patiently for the pieces to show you where they go.It was

POV KristenDerrik was standing outside my apartment building when I came home from picking up Eli.I stopped dead on the pavement twenty feet away, Eli's warm hand wrapped around two of my fingers.Then Derrik shifted his weight, and my body remembered everything.Three years. I had spent three years doing the deliberate work of becoming someone who wasn't afraid of anything. And within two seconds, my body forgot all of it.My hands went cold. Mira, who had been humming with that new warm frequency ever since the diner this morning, went abruptly, completely still.Derrik looked .... different. He'd always been handsome. Broad shoulders, the easy physical confidence of a man who had never once doubted his right to occupy the space he was standing in. He still had all of that. But there were lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there before. Good, a cold part of me thought that I wasn't proud of and didn't try to stop . Good. Let it cost you something. Let it cost you

POV Kristen I wake up before Eli does.That never happens. For three years, my son has been the alarm clock I never set ..... his small feet hitting the floor, his voice calling Mommy before his eyes are fully open, the sound of him pulling his stuffed wolf off the pillow and dragging it across the hall. But this morning I am awake long before any of that. Come to dinner. Tomorrow. Six o'clock.I do not regret sending it. That is what frightens me. I keep waiting for the regret to arrive … What is here instead is something quieter and much harder to dismiss. Something that sat down in my chest last night and has not moved.That is the thing I am not ready to name.I get up before the grey becomes light. I do not turn on the kitchen lamp. I move through the apartment the way I have moved through everything for three years ..... quietly, carefully, taking up only the space I need. The kettle. The mug. The small routine of a life I built from scratch in a city that did not know my name

POV Kristen. I make spaghetti because Eli will not negotiate about food.That is simply the truth of him. He has opinions about everything ..... which sock goes on which foot, which stuffed wolf sleeps on which side of the pillow, whether the bathroom light stays on or off during his bath ..... but food is where he draws his firmest line. Spaghetti, scrambled eggs, and the specific brand of yogurt with the blue lid. Everything else is subject to a look that would make a grown man reconsider his choices. I learned this about my son before he had words for it. I have not fought it since.So spaghetti.I stand at the stove and stir and listen to the sounds coming from my living room ..... Eli's voice, continuous and unhurried. And underneath it, quieter, steadier Dylan 's voice. Answering. I stir the sauce and I listen. We sit down at 6:20. The table is small ..... it fits two adults and one child if nobody needs elbow room, which Eli does not because he is three and his elbows are th