The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 249: Chapter 249 You handled it perfectly

Ethan’s gaze darted between us, something desperate and broken flickering across his face.

"Aria, please—just five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. We can talk somewhere private—"

"No."

"I left Clara. I filed for divorce. I’m trying to make this right—"

"There is no making this right!" Her voice cracked, the calm facade shattering. "You lied to me for two years, Ethan. You used me. You made me believe I was your mate when you’d already chosen someone else."

Tears were streaming down her face now, and the bond flooded with so much pain I could barely breathe.

"And now you want me to *talk* to you?" she continued. "To give you another chance? After everything you’ve done?"

"I made a mistake—"

"You made a choice!" Aria’s voice rose. "Every single day for two years, you chose to keep lying. You chose Clara over me. Over the bond. Over everything the Moon Goddess intended."

She wiped at her eyes roughly, and I had to physically restrain myself from going to her. From pulling her into my arms and killing Ethan where he stood.

"So no," Aria finished, her voice going quiet. "We’re not talking. We’re never talking again. And if you come near me one more time, I won’t stop Damian from tearing you apart. Understood?"

Ethan looked gutted. Like she’d reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.

Part of me—a very small, very human part—almost felt sorry for him.

The rest of me wanted to make him suffer for every tear on Aria’s face.

"You heard her," I said softly. "Leave. Now."

For a moment, I thought he might actually be stupid enough to argue.

Then his gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "Aria, I’m so sorry."

She didn’t respond. Just turned away, her arms wrapped around herself.

Ethan stood there for another few seconds—hoping, maybe, that she’d change her mind.

She didn’t.

Finally, he left. Disappeared into the crowd without another word.

The moment he was gone, Aria’s knees buckled.

I caught her before she could fall, pulling her against my chest and wrapping my arms around her.

"I’ve got you," I murmured into her hair. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

She clung to me, her fingers digging into my jacket as she tried to steady her breathing. The bond pulsed between us—pain and relief and exhaustion all tangled together.