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The Luna He Lost: Alpha's Endless Regret Novel Cover

The Luna He Lost: Alpha's Endless Regret

Omega Lyra is forced to sew a wedding dress for the woman replacing her. On the wedding eve, Alpha Kyle's loss of control leads to the bride's death, and Lyra is framed for the crime. Bound as Kyle’s nominal Luna, she endures three years of torment and isolation. Driven to despair by Kyle’s coldness and his bond with Rhea, Lyra flees. After awakening hidden Alpha powers and being rescued by Beta Darren, she must now find her sister and claim her place in the world.
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Chapter 6

Lyra

As soon as I arrived back at my sister's place, drenched from head to toe, Mira hurried toward me with a towel.

"Where have you been? You're going to catch a cold at this rate!" she exclaimed, gently wiping my hair.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile onto my lips. "I just. needed some air."

Her hands paused for a fraction of a second. Mira looked at me closely, her eyes searching my face. I knew she saw it-the stiffness in my smile, the way my gaze wavered-but she didn't push. She never did.

"I already applied for a job," I added quickly, as if that alone could erase the heaviness pressing on my chest.

She hesitated, guilt flickering across her expression. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head and gave a small chuckle. "Don't be. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for troubling you and Damon."

The words sounded light, but she knew better.

Mira always did. Though she didn't know the details-didn't know about Kyle's refusal, about the bond still tying me down-she stepped closer and squeezed my hand anyway.

Family never needed explanations. They simply stayed.

"I'll take a bath," I said softly, changing the subject before my voice could betray me.

She nodded. "Come eat later. I cooked your favorite."

The corner of my lips lifted, and I nodded gratefully before heading upstairs.

After finishing my bath, I went downstairs and found Mira pacing back and forth in the living room, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

I was about to ask what was wrong when she noticed me. Her eyes lit up instantly, and she rushed over, pressing the phone into my palm.

"It's for you," she whispered, excitement barely contained.

Before I could ask anything, a composed, professional voice came through the line.

"Good afternoon. This is Mr. Zane's secretary from Howl Entertainment Corporation. May I speak with Lyra Vale?"

My heart skipped.

"Yes-this is Lyra Vale," I replied, suddenly aware of how fast my pulse was racing.

"We've reviewed your application earlier today," she continued. "Mr. Zane would like to invite you for a personal interview."

An interview.

The word echoed in my mind.

"The interview will be conducted by Mr. Zane himself," she added calmly. "Please arrive tomorrow at six o'clock sharp."

I swallowed.

Alpha Zane-someone who rarely involved himself personally-was willing to meet me.

"Yes," I said quickly. "Thank you. I'll be there."

After the call ended, I stared at the phone for a moment, barely breathing.

Then Mira let out a squeal.

"You did it!" she cried, pulling me into her arms.

"I-It's just an interview," I said, though my voice trembled.

"Lyra," she said, her voice breaking as she held me tighter, "do you know how rare that is?"

I did. And that was what made my chest ache.

We laughed and cried at the same time, clinging to each other as joy finally spilled over. Mira wept openly, and I felt my own eyes burn.

In that moment, everything Kyle had taken from me-every cold word, every silent punishment-felt distant.

This was love.

Grieving for your sorrow. Rejoicing in your happiness.

And as my sister held me, all the heartache he left behind was softened-if only a little-by the warmth of family.

~

Early in the morning, I left Mira's apartment wearing the neat formal clothes I had borrowed from her.

The fabric felt stiff against my skin, unfamiliar-like I was stepping into a role I hadn't fully accepted yet.

The moment I entered Howl Entertainment's building, the receptionist from yesterday looked up. Recognition flickered across her face.

"Interview?" she asked, her smile polite but distant.

"Yes."

She tapped something on her screen, then gestured toward the elevator bank. "Top floor. Elevator D."

My heart thundered with each passing floor.

By the time the doors slid open, I could already feel it-the pressure in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Alpha territory.

The top floor was all glass and steel, the city stretching endlessly beyond the windows.

Power lingered here, not loud but absolute, vibrating through my bones. Every instinct I had recoiled and bowed at the same time.

A tall man stood waiting outside the office doors. When our eyes met, his gaze flicked briefly to his watch, then back to me with pointed precision.

"Lyra Vale?"

"Yes."

"You're early." There was no warmth in his tone-just assessment.

"I prefer it that way."

Something shifted in his expression. Not quite approval, but acknowledgment. "Alpha Zane will see you now."

The doors opened before I could steady my breathing.

The office was nothing like Kyle's-no clutter, no lingering musk of dominance meant to overwhelm. It was minimal, composed. Controlled.

Every surface gleamed. Every angle deliberate.

Zane stood by the window, a cup of black coffee in hand, his back turned to me. Sunlight carved sharp lines across his shoulders, but he didn't move.

"Miss... Vale," he said without looking. His voice was quiet, cutting.

That brief pause when he addressed me seemed to signify something, but before I could dwell on it, his reproach followed swiftly: "You're late."

I blinked, glancing at the time on the wall. Early by three minutes. "The elevator stopped on every floor."

"Excuses." He still didn't turn. "How very omega of you."

The word landed like a blade between my ribs. I forced myself to breathe evenly, to keep my voice level.

"Good thing I'm not one, then."

That earned his attention.

He turned slowly, gray eyes settling on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

It wasn't just appraisal-it felt as though he was peeling layers away, seeing far more than I had offered. His gaze lingered on my face, my posture, the borrowed clothes that didn't quite fit.

"Interesting," he murmured, setting his coffee down with deliberate care. He took a step closer. Then another. "Do you know why you're here?"

"For an interview."

"Among hundreds of applicants." Another step. He stopped just inside my personal space-not quite threatening, but close enough to test. "Most with credentials far exceeding yours."

My throat tightened, but I held his gaze. Refused to step back.

"Then I assume you're looking for something credentials can't provide."

His brow arched, faint amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what would that be?"

"Someone who won't waste your time pretending to be impressed."

The silence that followed felt charged, electric. His eyes narrowed slightly, reassessing.

"Do you know what I expect from my assistant?" he asked, voice dropping lower.

"To keep up."

"And can you?"

I tilted my chin up a fraction. "We'll find out."

The air shifted-subtle, dangerous. His gaze sharpened, something predatory flickering beneath his calm exterior.

For three heartbeats, he said nothing.

Just watched me with the focused stillness of a wolf deciding whether to chase.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped back.

"You're hired," he said. "Trial basis."

Before I could process it, he continued. "Tonight, you'll accompany me to the Lunar Crest Banquet."

My breath caught.

Lunar Crest.

"Council members. Alphas. Investors." His tone remained even, clinical. "You'll observe, take notes, and speak only when necessary. Consider it your first test."

Lunar Crest. Moonfang's allied circle. The very people who would recognize my face-or worse, my name.

My chest tightened, but I forced my expression into calm resolve.

There's no way I'm going to let those people make me miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"I understand."

"Good." He moved back toward his desk, dismissing me with the gesture. Then paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "You'll wear what's been prepared for you. Everything will be sent to your address."

Prepared? I opened my mouth to question it, but his expression stopped me.

"I expect you to represent Silvercrest appropriately," he added, each word precise as a scalpel. "Do not disappoint me."

"I won't."

The corner of his mouth lifted-not quite a smile, but something close. Something that suggested he found my confidence either admirable or amusing. Perhaps both.

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