All Chapters of Alpha, Let's End This Bond!: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

ARIAThe morning air in the city didn’t care that I was a "rebel." It just wanted to freeze the marrow in my bones.I was standing in the middle of my tiny living room, shivering in a thin hoodie, when Nova banged on the door.She didn't just walk in; she stormed in, looking like a pack mule for a high-end thrift store. She dropped a heavy duffel bag on the floor with a dull thud."You’re a disaster," she said by way of greeting. "I knew you’d leave all your furs and designer coats at the mansion to make a point, but Aria, it’s literally thirty degrees outside."I wiped a smudge of dust off my cheek. "I’m fine, Nova. I’ve got blankets.""Blankets don't help when you’re walking to the grocery store." She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. She held it out to me, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "Take this."I opened it. A thick stack of twenties and fifties stared back at me. I looked up, confused. "What’s this?""Five thousand dollars," she said, waving off

ARIAThe apartment finally felt like it had some life in it, mostly because Eliana, Tasha’s daughter, was currently using a cardboard moving box as a drum set."I’m telling you, Aria, the kid has rhythm," Tasha said, leaning against my tiny kitchen counter and nursing a lukewarm coffee. "Either that, or she’s just trying to see how fast she can give you a migraine."I laughed, the first real sound of joy I’d made in days. "Let her play. It beats the silence."I was reaching for a stack of freshly bagged breast milk when the door didn't just open—it practically groaned on its hinges. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, charged with that familiar, ozone-thick scent of rain and mountain air.Luca."What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped, spinning around.He didn't answer. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week, his eyes dark and burning. Before I could even get another word out, he crossed the room in two strides. His hand

ARIAThe "Rusty Anchor" was thick with the smell of charred steak and ambition. It was the kind of place where people came to cut deals or get hammered, and right now, we were doing a bit of both."Look, the numbers don't lie," Tasha said, sliding a tablet across the scarred wooden table. "We focus on the niche markets—the pack-run businesses that are tired of the big-agency fluff. We give them authenticity. We give them edge."Brandon leaned back, his eyes scanning the spreadsheet. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, his leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. "It’s a solid play, Tash. The 'Midnight Media' angle? It’s catchy. And having Aria as the creative lead? That’s the real hook."I stirred my drink, feeling a hum of nervous energy. "I’ve already got three mock-ups for the initial launch. We aren't just selling ads; we're selling a voice."Brandon looked at me, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. "I’m in. I’ve been looking for a place to drop some 'fuck yo

ARIAI heard a sleek black SUV rolled forward like a predator marking its territory. My heart stopped. I knew that car. I knew that silhouette behind the wheel."Camilla said he was gone," I whispered, my fingers digging into my phone.I scrambled out of the mansion, and marched toward the SUV as the window slid down. Luca sat there, looking way too composed for a man who was supposed to be halfway to the northern territories."Going somewhere?" he asked. His voice was like low-grit sandpaper, rough and irritatingly calm."You’re supposed to be on a business trip," I snapped, reaching the driver's side. "How’s Adrian? Is his fever down? Camilla said he wouldn't stop crying for me."Luca stepped out of the car, his massive frame blotting out the moon. He didn't look like a man in a hurry. He looked like a man who had been waiting for a delivery. "Adrian is fine. There is no fever."I froze. The cold air hit my lungs, sharp and biting. "What?""I needed you here," he said, stepping into

ARIAThe guest room felt like a holding cell with better thread count. I spent the night staring at the ceiling, waiting for the digital clock to hit 6:00 AM so I could bolt. But at 5:30, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It wasn’t an alarm."Aunt Martha?" I whispered, my voice raspy from lack of sleep. "Is everything okay?"Aunt Martha only called from the hometown at odd hours if someone was dead or the taxes were overdue."Aria, honey," Martha’s voice was shaky, echoing with the static of a bad landline. "You won’t believe who just pulled up to my porch. I’m looking out the window right now. There’s a shiny new BMW in the driveway.""Did Uncle Joe win the lottery?" I tried to joke, but my stomach did a slow, ugly roll."No. It’s her, Aria. It’s your mother."The air left the room. I felt like I’d been punched in the solar plexus. "My... what?""She’s been gone twenty years, and now she walks in like she just went out for milk. She’s dressed in silk, asking where you are. Asking if