The Alpha’s Regret Under the Blood Moon

By the time Adriana finally sat down and peeled back the fabric around her ankle, the bruising had deepened into an angry shade of purple. The swelling was far worse than before. Walking on it earlier—out of stubbornness more than necessity—had clearly made it deteriorate.

A sharp breath escaped Dr. Donovan, who was reviewing patient charts beside her. “That looks bad,” he muttered, then immediately waved over a passing nurse. “Go inform Alpha Reed. If his future Luna limps around like this and we ignored it, we’ll all hear about it later.”

Adriana’s head snapped up. “No—wait, don’t call him—”

But the nurse had already hurried down the corridor before she could finish.

She exhaled, shoulders sagging. After a brief hesitation, she reached for her communication stone and sent Nathanie a message.

[Someone noticed my ankle and sent a nurse to tell you. I tried to stop them. Please don’t make a fuss over it.]

She stared at the screen afterward, waiting for the faint glow that would signal his reply.

Nothing came.

When the nurse returned several minutes later, her steps were slower this time. She avoided Adriana’s eyes at first.

“Alpha Reed said he’s aware,” she began carefully. “But… Lady Olivia is in his office. They’re talking. He didn’t say he would come.”

The room seemed to grow smaller.

Adriana kept her gaze lowered, focusing on the edge of her desk as though the grain of the wood required intense study.

“He must be occupied,” she said quietly. The words felt like they scraped her throat on the way out.

Her stone vibrated in her palm.

A voice message.

She opened it almost instantly.

Nathanie’s voice came through—steady, composed, distant.

“Got it.”

Two simple words.

No concern. No question. No instruction to rest.

Just acknowledgment.

It felt as though every wolf in the infirmary could hear the emptiness in it.

Before the silence grew too suffocating, the receptionist called out from the front.

“Healer Adriana? A patient is requesting you.”

The excuse came like a lifeline.

“I’m coming,” she replied, rising too quickly and wincing as pain flared through her ankle.

The need to escape the room—escape their sympathetic glances—felt painfully familiar.

The last time she’d wanted to disappear this badly had been during her engagement feast.

That evening had been meant to mark the formal announcement of her union with Nathanie before the pack elders.

He had arrived late.

Hours late.

“Something urgent came up at the infirmary,” he had said, as though she hadn’t spent the entire evening answering polite but pointed questions alone.

For her, it had been a milestone.

For him, an afterthought.

Later, whispers had reached her ears. He had been seen leaving the territory early that afternoon—with a woman.

She hadn’t needed clarification.

She knew.

Now, adjusting her white healer’s coat over her shoulders, she forced herself forward despite the pain.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into duty. Patients came and went. She cleaned wounds, prescribed herbs, issued instructions.

She didn’t allow herself to think.

Only when dusk settled beyond the infirmary windows did she finally sit back.

As she stood, agony shot up her leg, nearly buckling her knees.

She glanced down.

The swelling had worsened, puffed and discolored.

She hadn’t even treated it.

A tired sigh left her lips as she lowered herself back into her chair.

Nathanie had said he would pick her up.

She decided to wait.

The corridors gradually emptied. Voices faded. Night-shift wolves replaced the daytime staff.

Still no sign of him.

No message.

No call.

The silence pressed heavily against her chest.

Finally, she pushed herself upright again, determination overriding sense.

She would go to his office.

She managed only a handful of steps before her ankle throbbed so violently that cold sweat broke across her skin.

She leaned against the wall, breathing shallowly.

This was pointless.

With trembling fingers, she retrieved her communication stone and called him instead.

He answered quickly.

“Yes, Adriana?” His tone was calm—neutral, almost casual.

For a second, she wondered if he truly didn’t remember.

If the promise had meant so little.

She swallowed, pride burning in her throat.

“You told me earlier you’d come for me after your shift,” she said softly. “I’m still here.”