Alpha's Regret, Begging My Convict Luna Back Chapter 50

Aria’s POV

I tilted my head, yearning for the warmth of her touch to ease the ache, to make everything right again. But no touch ca, the air was empty and silent.

I woke up with a start, my stomach growling angrily as the cold draft of air from the cracked window hit my skin. The chill cut through , but I couldn’t quite bring myself to close it. The fever had overwheld , and I’d passed out in a haze of exhaustion and aching muscles.

I reached up to touch my forehead, feeling the searing heat that radiated from my skin. It was burning hot. My body felt heavy, like I was trapped in a shell that refused to move. I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling in a fog I couldn’t clear.

For a brief mont, I wished I could have stayed in that dream, that warm, comforting dream where nothing mattered and everything was still okay.

I longed to return to a ti before all these, the hardship, the constant cold shoulders, the endless slights. I wanted to go back to a ti when I was just a child, basking in my grandmother’s love, feeling safe.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I didn’t even notice it. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying. My wolf was too numb to feel much of anything, but still... the pain, the longing—it never really went away.

Then, through the haze, a thought broke through. The thought of Lana.

I had her, my daughter. I couldn’t afford to stay lost in these mories. If I gave up now, what would beco of her? Without a mother, Lana would face the sa cruelty that I had endured. She would be alone, unprotected, and a target for those who thrived on pain. I couldn’t let that happen, not to her.

Gritting my teeth, I propped myself up on trembling arms, fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to pull under. I can’t give in, I won’t.

With fierce determination, I dragged myself to the bathroom, my body protesting every movent. I soaked a towel in hot water and pressed it to my forehead, desperate for so relief.

I made several trips through the night, the fever breaking little by little, but the pain didn’t leave. I could feel it gnawing at , like a beast inside that wouldn’t stop prowling.

By the early hours of the morning, the fever began to break. I was still exhausted, my body weak and aching, but at least the heat had lessened.

Just as I started to fall asleep, a loud knock shattered the silence. The door rattled, and I flinched. My body felt like waterlogged cotton, weak, yet oppressively heavy. I dragged myself to my feet, every step a struggle, and stumbled toward the door.

When I opened it, I was t with Margaret’s wide eyes, her gaze flicking over with obvious disgust.

"What? Are you trying to die here?" she blurted out, her shock quickly turning into scolding. "What’s wrong with you?"

I shot her a cold glance, the words sticking in my throat, too heavy to form into anything sharp. I turned, too drained to deal with her, and tried to shut the door.

But Margaret wasn’t done. She barged in, furious. "What, you’re mute now? Can’t you hear talking to you?"

I didn’t respond. My throat burned with every word, but I finally rasped, "What do you want?"

Margaret eyed suspiciously, the concern in her voice barely masking her irritation. "What’s wrong with you?" she asked, like I was so problem to be solved.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at her, my gaze flat, my expression emotionless. I didn’t need to speak. My silence was enough to make her uneasy. I could feel it.

For a mont, Margaret’s face faltered, but she quickly steeled herself. "Today’s your grandmother’s morial," she said, her tone flat. Then, without another word, she stord off.

The weight of her words hit like a slap. The grief that I’d buried so deep inside began to rise, forcing its way to the surface, choking . I swallowed hard, the tallic taste of blood in my mouth, realizing I’d bitten my tongue.

I bowed my head, my heart tightening as the grief flooded in. It was all too much, too raw, too soon. I’d known my grandmother had passed, but hearing it like that... like she was nothing more than an event to Margaret, a scheduling conflict, made it all too real.

The world seed to close in on as I changed into plain black clothes. The grief, the frustration, the years of pain, it all swirled together. I didn’t have the energy to process it all, but I knew I had to move forward. I couldn’t be stuck in this.

Guided by muscle mory, I made my way to the old house behind the villa. Each step felt like I was walking further away from everything I’d ever known. The house that had once been full of warmth now felt like a tomb. The door creaked as I entered, and I felt the weight of everything I’d lost bearing down on .

But I was here now. For her, for my grandmother.

I stood in the ancestral hall, staring up at kate’s portrait. Her face was serene and kind. My heart twisted, a sharp pain cutting through , like a jagged claw scraping across my chest.

The loss hit with full force now, staring at her image, it finally sank in. I was truly alone. kate was gone, and I had no one left to turn to.

No one but myself.

A voice broke through my reverie. It was Sophia. Her voice, dripping with mockery, cut through the air. "Aria, if you hadn’t been so reckless, would Grandma have died?"