Filed to story: Alpha’s Regret After His Pregnant Luna’s Death (Evelyn & Declan)
Evelyn’s POV
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My head buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. My wolf let out a low, distressed whine inside me. This house… this was the first real home Lana and I had had in a while. The first place where we didn’t sleep with shoes by the door in case we needed to run.
And now-
Now we were losing it.
Because of me.
Peter was in this mess because of me. How could I possibly tell him not to sell? What right did I have?
My savings… my grandmother’s inheritance… everything felt like sand slipping through my fingers.
He must’ve seen my guilt written plainly on my face. Peter reached out and gently patted my shoulder, his touch warm and soothing to my wolf.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly.”The house might be old, but it’s a well-decorated little villa, and the location’s great. Once it’s sold, things will ease up for me.”
Ease up for him, but cost everything for me.
“But after that,” he continued,”we’ll probably have to rent a temporary place.”
He forced a tired smile, one that made my chest ache.”I’ll do my best to give you and Lana a better life. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”
I opened my mouth, ready to shake my head.
Stay with him?
What did that even mean?
I was grateful to Peter, deeply. He’d been my anchor when my world kept collapsing. But stay? Live under the same roof again? Keep dragging him deeper into the mess my life had become?
My wolf shifted uneasily beneath my skin, sensing my turmoil.
“I was actually planning to start looking for a new place soon… somewhere I could move to with Lana,” I began.
But the moment my gaze met Peter’s eyes, the rest of my sentence dissolved in my throat. They were bloodshot, tired, worn down in a way I’d never seen before.
I froze. My wolf let out a small, sympathetic whine.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I murmured instead.
Peter nodded slightly, as if forcing himself to accept the half-answer.”After the house is sold, we can move into one of the firm’s apartment units,” he said.”It has three bedrooms. We could even set up a little play area for Lana.”
He tried to hide it, but I heard it, the hint of longing in his voice. My werewolf hearing didn’t miss the tiny break between his words, the soft exhale of hope he was trying to smother.
Everyone from the firm lived in that building Peter spoke of. If they saw me and Lana living and eating with him under the same roof… they’d assume we were a family.
My chest tightened. I didn’t know what to say. My silence stretched between us like a thick fog.
Peter took that silence as acceptance.
A flicker of happiness, small, tired, but real, lit his eyes. But just as quickly, something else shadowed his expression.
Peter let out a soft, humorless laugh.”Even if it’s just temporary,” he said quietly,”I’m really glad.”
For him, that small amount of closeness was enough.
The auction details were finalized, and a few minutes later, Peter got another call which he answered briefly and told me he needed to go somewhere.
I stood by the window and watched him walk to his car. His back was straight as always, but the ease he once carried, the smooth, polished confidence of the rising star attorney that everyone admired, was gone.
Now he moved like a man carrying a boulder on his shoulders.
My heart ached.
My wolf pressed against me, grieving quietly for him.
*****
In the past few days, Peter had barely been home during the day. He was constantly out, handling calls, meetings, paperwork, doing some damage control. He was too busy to even spend a last peaceful night in the house we were losing.
That night, the sky had already darkened when I realized he still hadn’t come back.
A quiet unease crept into my chest, prickling beneath my skin.
My wolf paced restlessly within me. Something was wrong.
Peter wasn’t the type to stay out late without warning.
Even if we would soon go separate ways, I couldn’t shut off the worry tightening around my heart.
I finally sent him a message, checking in.
His reply came a minute later. It was short, clipped and tired.
[Just sleep first.]
The words sat cold on my screen. Something in them felt off.
And even as I tried to lie down, my wolf refused to settle. I was bothered, seriously worried about Peter. For some reason, I could feel something was wrong.
A few minutes later, while scrolling through the lawyers’ group chat, a video caught my eye and my breath froze.
Evelyn’s POV
It was Peter.
He was sitting in a VIP room at some downtown bar, the entire place drowning in spinning neon lights, too bright and too loud even through a screen. The air looked thick with cigarette smoke and cheap cologne. My wolf immediately bristled, ears flattening at the chaotic energy spilling from the footage.
Peter sat at the center of it all.
Even with the dim lighting, I could see the flush on his cheeks. He was drowning himself in alcohol.
Peter never drank like this.
My chest tightened. My wolf let out a low, uneasy growl.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Clinton? Not going to give us the courtesy of a toast?” a man with a swollen beer belly sneered. His voice oozed smugness through the speakers as his eyes swept over Peter like he was prey cornered in a den.
Predator instincts prickled along my spine. My claws burned beneath my fingertips.
Why are you letting them talk to you like that, Peter?
Another woman leaned forward, swirling her champagne like she was stirring poison into it.”We genuinely admire your talents, Mr. Clinton,” she purred, her tone soft but dripping with ice.”Now that you have lost everything, We’d love to help you. But the way you’re brushing us off? It’s honestly disappointing.”
I froze.
Lost everything, what the hell did she mean by that.
Peter’ lashes lowered, casting a shadow over his expression. Even through the screen, I sensed his exhaustion… and something worse. Resignation.
Under the weight of their mocking gazes, he lifted a glass and swallowed it in one gulp.
The moment the alcohol hit, I could see the subtle twitch at the corner of his eye. The burn must’ve hit hard. Peter was never good with alcohol, always avoiding it unless absolutely necessary.
What was happening? I wondered trying to process everything.
Another glass slid in front of him, pushed forward by a manicured hand tipped with blood-red nails.
The woman smiled sweetly, venom shimmering in her eyes.”Mr. Clinton,” she said, leaning in close,”let’s see more of that sincerity, shall we?”
Her breath fogged the air between them, warm and cloying.
Even through the shaky phone recording, it made my skin crawl.
Peter didn’t move, he didn’t flinch.
Lights blinked across his face cold blues, violent reds, like the world around him was spinning faster than he could keep up.
Glass after glass appeared in front of him, lining up like soldiers waiting for the execution command.
Everyone else went still.
No one picked up their drinks.
All eyes were on him.
My claws slid out before I even realized it, tips scraping lightly against the phone case.
Peter… what are you doing?
