Alpha King Chases Abandoned Luna novel Chapter 347

Chapter 347

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“She’s being detained for 48 hours while I gather evidence,” I admitted. “Without proof of her crimes, I can’t-”

Evelyn’s face contorted with rage. With surprising strength for someone so frail, she grabbed the basket of venison and hurled it

at me.

“Forty–eight hours?” she shouted, her voice cracking with fury. “After what she did to my granddaughter? To me? To Olivia?”

Chunks of raw meat struck my chest and face, but I remained kneeling, accepting her anger as deserved penance.

“You’re still protecting her,” Evelyn accused, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. “Even now, knowing what she is, you

can’t bring yourself to punish her properly.”

I didn’t defend myself. There was nothing I could say that would justify my actions.

James’s words echoed in my mind: only vengeance and justice for Lily could ever begin to redeem me in their eyes.

After Evelyn’s strength was spent, I quietly rose to my feet. My gaze lingered on Olivia, who stood in the doorway watching the

scene unfold.

Her face was a mask of indifference, but I could see the pain beneath. My wolf whined with genuine sorrow at the mate bond

damaged perhaps beyond repair.

So many what–ifs. So many lost possibilities.

Without another word, I turned and left, my shoulders heavy with the weight of my failures.

Olivia, resolute, turned her attention to her mother, refusing to acknowledge me again.

(Victoria’s POV)

Forty–eight hours in Shadowfall Detention Center felt like an eternity.

The memories of my previous imprisonment here haunted me at every turn. The stench of unwashed bodies, the cold concrete

floors, the constant threat of violence–it was all sickeningly familiar.

I tried to keep a low profile, my wolf constantly submissive to avoid drawing attention. But my reputation had preceded me.

“Look who’s back,” sneered a burly she–wolf with a jagged scar across her face. “The Alpha’s little pet.”

The other inmates laughed cruelly, their wolves projecting dominance pheromones that made my wolf cower deeper within me.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” another taunted.

They forced me to serve them–fetching their food, cleaning up after them, performing the most degrading tasks imaginable. At night, they made me sleep near the filthy detention bucket, its stench making me retch repeatedly.

I desperately tried to contact Ethan through our pack bonds, sending frantic pleas for help. But he had blocked me completely.

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Chapter 347

The silence from his end was deafening.

Each minute dragged on in misery. I counted the seconds, clinging to the knowledge that this ordeal would end.

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When the guards finally released me, I stumbled out into the sunlight, my once–perfect appearance now a disheveled mess. My designer clothes were filthy, my hair matted, my skin bearing the marks of rough treatment.

I couldn’t bear my own scent–a mixture of fear, humiliation, and the detention center’s filth. I needed fresh clothes

immediately.

The Crescent Moon Mall was my only option. I hailed a taxi, not recognizing the driver until it was too late.

Martin Briggs–the same driver I had previously insulted–smiled coldly at me in the rearview mirror.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Ms. Frost. Fallen on hard times, have we?”

I ignored his taunts, focusing on the shopping ahead. But as we pulled up to the mall entrance, Martin rolled down his window.

“Hey, everyone!” he shouted to the crowd. “Look who’s here! That vicious Victoria Frost who’s been all over the pack news!”

Heads turned. Eyes narrowed. Recognition dawned on faces throughout the crowd.

The pack members, already inflamed by the recent scandals circulating through territory gossip channels, began to gather

around the taxi.

“That’s her!” someone shouted. “The one who pretended to be Little Orange!”

“She killed the Alpha’s daughter!” another accused.

Before I could retreat back into the taxi, someone hurled an egg that splattered against my shoulder. Then came more–food, garbage, insults raining down on me from all directions.

Clara Brown, a sanitation worker I’d once snubbed, dumped an entire bucket of cleaning waste over my head. The foul liquid soaked through my clothes, drawing howls of laughter from the crowd.

The Mall Security Guards stood by, watching with barely concealed amusement. They knew of my fall from grace and were content to let the crowd vent their anger before finally intervening.

Phones recorded my humiliation from every angle. Within minutes, videos were spreading throughout pack communication

networks.

I fled, sobbing, back to Rosewood Haven.

In my bathroom, I scrubbed myself raw, trying to erase the stench of public humiliation. When I emerged, rage overtook me.