Todos los capítulos de Alpha's Regret: Chasing My Pregnant Luna: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Alexander’s POVMy jaw clenches as my mind goes over the latest problem at hand. The guards at the palace already sent me the note that Ivy received.The message was clear, come alone to the Eastern Valley or else …the entire kingdom would be at risk.My mind is still churning when the second message reaches me, delivered by a guard whose fear I can smell before he even opens his mouth, sharp and acrid, cutting through the air like blood.“She’s gone,” he says, voice shaking despite the discipline hammered into him since childhood. “Her Majesty, Miss Ivy … she was taken.”For a fraction of a second, the world narrows to a single, blinding point.I have faced war councils where tens of thousands of lives hung on my decisions, have stood on battlefields soaked so thoroughly in blood that the earth itself reeked of iron for weeks afterward, and yet no

Ivy’s POVThe air at the entrance of the Eastern Valley feels heavier than anywhere else in the kingdom.It presses against my skin as if it knows what lies ahead, as if it is to warn me away. The land here is scarred, stripped bare by ancient magic and violence layered upon violence, the ground cracked and darkened like something once alive that has long since given up.This is where Alexander stood not long ago.I can almost see him here, broad shoulders squared, expression carved into that dangerous calm he wears when the world demands everything from him at once. The thought tightens my chest until breathing hurts.I step forward …… and Stefen appears beside me.He does not startle me. Somehow, I was expecting him.“My Queen,” he says quietly, his voice steady, respectful, and threaded with something that sounds dangerously close to worry. “I must ask you to reconsider.”

Third POVChaos does not arrive all at once.It creeps in first, subtle and insidious, like the faint tremor beneath Jacob’s boots that his mind refuses to acknowledge. For a fraction of a second, he convinces himself it is nothing more than the echo of magic dissipating from the valley, the dying aftershocks of Alexander’s reckless power.Then the air changes.It is not merely sound that reaches him, but presence; a disciplined, suffocating weight that presses down on his senses and makes his skin prickle. Scent floods the valley, sharp and unmistakable, and Jacob’s breath stutters as recognition slams into him with brutal clarity.An army.His heart slams violently against his ribs, fury and disbelief tangling so tightly they become indistinguishable. His gaze whips across the battlefield just as shadows peel themselves away from the terrain, soldiers rising from concealment with terrifying synchronicity, banners

Ivy’s POVVictory does not come with a roar.The moment Alexander’s mother and father fall, the fight around us seems to lose its voice. The clash of steel falters. The shouts die in throats. Even the wind feels as if it hesitates, afraid to intrude upon the raw, jagged grief that rips through the air.Alexander is on his knees.I have seen him wounded. I have seen him furious. I have seen him near madness and near death. But I have never seen him like this; his spine bowed, his hands braced against the ground as if the weight of the world has finally, truly landed on his shoulders.I move before I think.I am beside him in seconds, dropping to my knees, pulling him into my arms as he trembles with the deep, internal shudder of a man who has just lost the last fragile thread tying him to his past.“She chose,” he says hoarsely, almost to himself. “She chose.”I press my forehead to h

Alexander’s POVI do not mean to find it.That is the truth of it.Ivy’s apartment in Morestone is quiet in the comfortable way lived-in places are, carrying her scent in every corner; warm, familiar, grounding in a way my palace never was before she filled it with herself. We are here only for a short visit, a promise kept to Arla, to the bakery, to the life Ivy built when she thought she would never come back to mine.I was only looking for the spare linens she mentioned and it brought me to a door I have never entered before.It is locked. The wood is old, the handle worn smooth by use, as though it has been opened and closed many times … just not recently.I grip the handle in my hand and give it a slight jerk. It is no match for my strength and immediately swings inward.I ready myself to go inside and grab what I need when … my world tilts.For a long moment, I simply stand ther