Chapter 67: Chapter 66

I never imagined my life would spiral down to this—a waitress in a quiet, forgotten countryside diner, far removed from the future Luna I was destined to be.

The rhythm of my days here was relentless. No breaks, no rest, and the paycheck barely enough to scrape by. Once upon a time, I could have earned my monthly salary here in a single day as a lawyer, back when my life still had a sense of purpose, of direction.

Each day, I whispered the same lie to myself: I’m fine. I’m doing good. I’m moving on. But no matter how many times I said it, the words felt hollow.

Then, this morning, everything shifted. My heart stumbled when my eyes landed on someone—someone so familiar it felt like the past had reached out and grabbed me by the throat.

I couldn’t stop shaking as I stepped back inside the pizzeria. The chime above the door seemed louder than usual, but maybe it was just my fraying nerves. I caught a glimpse of him—Archer. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be him.

My heart pounded as I went behind the counter to grab a tray. The room felt suffocating, the air too thick to breathe. The other customers had all stopped eating, their heads bowed low, an unsettling hush falling over the diner.

“Katrina!” Madame Lavender hissed as she stormed toward me. “What are you doing? Bow down to the Alpha!”

Her voice barely registered. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Archer. Alive. Here. It made no sense. My grip on the tray faltered, and I slammed it down on the counter, ripping off my apron in one fluid motion.

I didn’t bow. Instead, the words spilled out of me before I could stop them.

“Why are you alive?”

Gasps rippled through the room like a shockwave.

“Mae!” Madame Lavender grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. Her whisper was sharp and panicked. “Do you have a death wish?!”

But Archer—no, the Alpha—smiled, a faint, almost amused curve of his lips.

“It’s alright, Madame Lavender.” His voice was smooth, commanding, but calm. He turned his gaze to me. “Can I borrow Katrina for a moment?”

“Katrina? Who’s Katrina?” Madame Lavender’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ah,” Archer said with an easy shrug. “Mae. That’s what you call her here, isn’t it? May I have a moment with her?”

Madame Lavender hesitated, glancing nervously between the two of us before nodding. “Yes, sure… Alpha.”

Archer didn’t wait for me to respond. He walked to the door, holding it open with an expectant look. My feet felt like lead, but I followed him outside, drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence.

The moment we stepped out, Madame Lavender appeared at the door, balancing a tray with a pizza and two glasses. “Enjoy your pizza!” she chirped, her voice overly cheerful as she set it down on a small table near us.

The door clicked shut, leaving us alone.

I crossed my arms, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. “This has to be some sort of sick joke,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re dead, Archer. I saw the reports. I mourned you. So… why?”

He leaned back against the railing, his expression unreadable. “You look good, Katrina,” he said, ignoring my question entirely.

“Don’t do that,” I snapped, my voice trembling with the weight of my shock. “Don’t pretend like this is normal. Answer me, Archer. How are you here? How is this even possible?”

He sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at me. “Katrina, there are things you don’t know—things I couldn’t tell you back then. I’m here because I had to be. Because I couldn’t leave you like that.”

“Leave me like that?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You died, Archer! I grieved for you! Do you have any idea what that did to me? And now you just show up—alive, acting like nothing happened?”

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t let them fall. Not yet. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and I took a shaky step back.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. “But there were circumstances… I couldn’t control them. I didn’t want to leave, but I had no choice.”

“No choice?” I spat. “You had no choice but to die? Stop talking in riddles, Archer! I deserve the truth!”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “The truth is complicated,” he said finally. “And I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. “Not ready to hear it? Are you kidding me? I’m standing here, looking at a ghost, and you’re telling me I’m not ready?”

“I’m not a ghost,” he said firmly, stepping closer.

“Then what are you?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Because you’re not the Archer I knew. The Archer I knew wouldn’t have done this to me!”

That was it. The dam broke, and the tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them, didn’t even try. My chest heaved with the weight of everything I’d held in for so long—the grief, the anger, the betrayal.

“Katrina,” he murmured, reaching out to touch my arm.

“Don’t.” I flinched away, shaking my head furiously. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to act like you care, not after this.”

He dropped his hand, his expression darkening. “I never stopped caring about you. Everything I’ve done—it was all for you.”

“For me?” I choked out, my voice thick with disbelief. “You think this—this nightmare—is for me? I can’t do this, Archer. I can’t.”

Without another word, I ripped off the waitress uniform I’d worn like a second skin for months, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the ground. Clad in the tank top and jeans I wore underneath, I turned and bolted, ignoring his calls behind me.

“Katrina! Wait!”

But I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, the cool night air biting at my tear-streaked face.