Todos los capítulos de Alpha's Regret: Chasing My Pregnant Luna: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

Ivy’s POVThe morning light slips gently through my curtains, painting soft golden stripes across the wooden floorboards.I am halfway through making breakfast when the front door bursts open.“Mom!” Mikel’s small voice rings down the hall before his little feet do, pattering rapidly over the floor. He barrels straight into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed pink from the chill outside, his tiny backpack bouncing against his back.In his hands is a crinkled paper bag from the corner sweet shop. He thrusts it up toward me with both hands, grinning so wide his dimples show.“I brought your favorite candies!” he announces proudly.I laugh, my chest melting in the way only he can make it. “Two scoops? Someone must have missed me a lot today.”“I missed you this much!” He stretches his arms out as wide as they’ll go, then tips forward and hugs my waist tightly

Ivy’s POVThe courtyard still hums from the echo of Alexander’s declaration when the teachers begin rearranging the stage.A bright banner unfurls across the railings that reads “The Couple’s Game!” in cheerful glittering letters. The children cheer, clapping their hands as the teachers wheel out the glowing game arena.I blink at the sight of it. The field is a huge circle bordered by shimmering light screens. Inside, gleaming stones hover like tiny suns. Every few seconds, one of the stones flashes and launches a pulse of light that splashes harmlessly across the protective boundary. It looks safe enough for the children watching, but clearly designed to test strength and speed.“Now,” Miss Olivia calls through her microphone, “each mother and father will enter as a pair. The task is simple. Protect your partner from the falling stones while hitting the moving bullseyes. The pair who finishes in t

Ivy’s POVThe morning sunlight slants through the alley behind the bakery, turning the flour dust in the air into drifting gold.Arla signs the delivery slip with her usual flourish, tongue caught between her teeth, while I stack boxes of ingredients beside the door. The scent of sugar and yeast fills the warm air, sweet and grounding.“Can you believe this?” she says suddenly, glancing at me with a grin. “All this time, the woman who helped me decorate cupcakes was secretly the Lycan King’s wife. I feel like I’ve been living in a royal drama.”I sigh, but there’s laughter tugging at my lips. “You’re exaggerating.”“Am I?” She lifts a brow. “Do you have any idea how many people in this city worship him? I mean, posters, collectible cards, news segments, the works. He’s like a walking legend. And you,” she pokes me lightly in the arm, “were

Ivy’s POVI lean over Alexander until my forehead nearly touches his.The hospital room is too white, too clean, too quiet for what he’s been through. The fluorescent light makes everything feel unreal, like if I blink hard enough, I’ll wake up back in the bakery with flour on my hands and his arms around me, steady as stone.But the steady rise and fall of his chest is real.So is the bruising along his temple. The faint burn marks on his forearm, now wrapped in gauze. The IV taped to his hand like a thin leash tethering him to this world. The severe stress his body has been under has slowed his natural lycan healing.I lift my fingers and brush his hair back from his face.It’s softer than I expected. Too soft for someone who carries storms in his bones.Without the usual sharpness in his gaze, without the tension in his jaw, he looks… younger. Almost unfairly so. Like the years that carved hi

Ivy’s POVThe hospital chair is too stiff and too narrow for sleep, but my body doesn’t care.My hand is still wrapped around Alexander’s when my eyelids finally grow heavy. The beeping of the monitors becomes a lullaby I never asked for. The room smells like antiseptic and faint smoke trapped in my hair, a reminder that the fire followed us here in invisible ways.I fight it at first. I tell myself I have to stay awake. That if I close my eyes for even a second, something will slip. But exhaustion is a tide.My forehead rests against the edge of the mattress. My fingers tighten around his, like holding on harder will keep him here.My lashes flutter.The white walls blur.The beeping stretches into something faraway …And then the sound is gone.Not replaced by quiet, but by something heavier.Damp.Dark.Cold seeping up through stone.I blink, and the hospit