The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna-Chapter 19 Who Is The Recognized Luna

Gamma Levi, ever attuned to her moods as her bonded Gamma—the one meant to stand beside the Luna when her mate failed—could feel the weight of her sorrow.

He sensed how she was slowly retreating into herself again, the walls going up, the light dimming. And though fury burned inside him each time Beta Greg strutted into her office with his cruel smirk, he was powerless to act. Addison wouldn’t let him.

She always stopped him before things could escalate, especially when Beta Greg made it clear he was willing to strike. To protect her Gamma from harm, Addison bore every barb, every humiliation alone—silently choosing pain over risking someone else’s safety. freewebnσvel.cøm

The emotional torment dragged on until, for reasons unknown, Beta Greg finally pulled back after a week. But by then, the damage had already been done. Addison was mentally drained, worn down to the point where all she wanted was to walk away—from the relationship, from the pack, from everything.

Yet just as she reached her breaking point, the entire pack plunged into a flurry of activity, preparing for the arrival of a group of important visitors.

Claire took center stage in the preparations, stepping confidently into the role of Luna—as though it were already hers by right. She oversaw arrangements with grace and ease, while Alpha Zion busied himself issuing commands, bolstering the border patrol, and tightening security to ensure no rogue or vampire dared approach during the visit.

With his attention consumed by duty and Claire, Zion had even less reason to look for Addison.

Meanwhile, Addison, who had been cast aside and stripped of responsibility, became the target of whispers and glares. The pack saw her idleness not as forced exile, but as proof of laziness and incompetence. Rumors spread that she had dumped her duties onto Claire, fueling further disdain from the very people she once led.

No matter what Addison did, she was always cast as the villain in everyone’s eyes, while Claire was painted as the graceful, kind, and selfless Luna. The comparison between them never ceased, and with every passing day that Addison remained idle—forced or not—the contempt and disapproval from the pack deepened.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Luna..." A soft knock echoed at the office door, followed by the quiet creak as it opened. An omega stepped inside, head bowed low in deference.

"Luna Addison, Mistress Claire is feeling a bit fatigued after personally managing the banquet preparations for our upcoming visitors," the omega said, voice low and overly formal, as if walking on eggshells. "She’s requesting your assistance. Please follow me..."

The omega didn’t lift her gaze once, her eyes fixed on the floor as she remained in a bow—clearly uncomfortable, as though merely being the bearer of this message was an offense in itself.

Addison didn’t protest. Without a word, she rose from her seat and quietly followed the omega out of her office. The lack of resistance startled the omega, who quickly rushed to catch up and lead the way.

They ascended to the third floor, where preparations were underway for the visiting dignitaries. The hallway buzzed with activity, omegas scurrying about as they decorated the guest rooms under Claire’s meticulous direction.

Claire stood at the center of it all, giving out orders with authority and confidence, as if she had always been the Luna of the pack. When Addison arrived, Claire didn’t even glance her way. She continued issuing commands, acting as though Addison didn’t exist.

It was clear—this was a show of dominance. Claire had called her there only to make a point, to let everyone see who truly held the reins now.

But Addison said nothing. She didn’t argue or demand recognition. She merely stood there, quiet and still, enduring the silent humiliation without complaint. After all, what good would it do to throw a tantrum? It wouldn’t change anything. If anything, it would only give the others more reason to hate her.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Addison had already emotionally checked out from this pack. Her heart was tired, worn down by rejection and disappointment. She was simply waiting for the inevitable moment when Zion would finally bring up dissolving their mate bond, rejecting her officially.

Until then, she existed in silence, in the spaces between what used to be hope and what had now turned to numb acceptance.

She had cried herself to sleep too many nights while Zion stayed by Claire’s side, never once returning to their shared room—not even for a moment. The three days and three nights they had spent together felt like nothing more than a cruel illusion... one she had desperately convinced herself was real.

Addison stood by while looking outside of the window, her gaze unfocused, lost in the emptiness outside. She wasn’t looking at anything—just staring, her mind elsewhere, numb to the noise and movement behind her.

Suddenly, Claire’s voice rang out, calling her name. But Addison didn’t respond. She hadn’t even heard her.

Annoyed by the lack of reaction, one of the omegas—Claire’s self-appointed favorite, known for her arrogance and cruelty—stepped forward. Without warning, she kicked the back of Addison’s knee, sending her crashing to the floor. The force of it caught Addison completely off guard.

But the fall wasn’t the worst part.

At some point, unnoticed by anyone, the omega had scattered tiny shards of broken glass on the floor. And as Addison’s knee hit the ground, the glass dug deep into her skin. A sharp, searing pain shot up her leg, but she clenched her jaw and said nothing. No scream. No gasp. Just a wince as she endured it in silence.

Blood slowly trickled from the fresh cuts, staining the floor beneath her.

But Addison didn’t move. She didn’t look up. She didn’t retaliate. She simply stayed where she was, swallowing the pain, her pride, and whatever remnants of hope she still had left.

Addison bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth as it trickled past her tongue. Her eyes burned, turning red with unshed tears—not from weakness, but from the sheer effort of holding everything in.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet Claire’s.

That same smug look still lingered in Claire’s eyes, even as she wore the mask of innocence—pretending to be the delicate, misunderstood white flower. But the moment the loud thud of Addison’s body hitting the floor echoed down the hallway, Claire feigned concern, rushing over with exaggerated urgency.

"A-Addison, are you alright?!" she gasped, reaching out a hand in mock sympathy. "Please forgive my attendant, she didn’t mean it. She just doesn’t like anyone showing me disrespect. Don’t worry, I’ll have a proper talk with her later... I’ll make sure she learns."

Addison didn’t respond. She didn’t have the strength—or the interest—in playing along.

She tried to get up, wincing as the pain in her knees screamed through her body. Her legs trembled, and she stumbled again, falling hard onto the glass-strewn floor.

Another sharp cry of pain escaped her throat as the shards dug deeper into her flesh. Blood welled up and began to run freely down her legs, dark red rivulets staining her pale skin.

It took everything she had to rise again. When she finally stood upright, her knees were a mess of blood and glass, her face drained of color. The pain was blinding. Her body trembled—not from weakness, but from the effort it took to remain standing in front of those who would rather see her crawl.

But Addison didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. She simply stood, silent and bleeding, her pride intact even as her body screamed for mercy.