HEARTS OF DIVINE RUIN (The MoonGoddess and The AlphaKing)

Alex lay still in the empty room, his eyes closed, every muscle tense with restraint. He had been awake when Luna slipped away, feeling the bed grow cold beside him. Her movements were soft, almost ghost-like, as she moved with the silence of a hunted creature. He didn't dare open his eyes, didn't dare stop her, because he had sensed it—the fear radiating off her like a tangible force. It gripped him, twisted his insides, leaving him paralyzed.
The truth he had tried to bury tore through him now. 
She knew. Knew what he had done. Knew he had been there the night everything fell apart for her. And yet, even as she left, she hadn't confronted him. 
Instead, she was running again, like she always did, but this time, it felt final. He stayed there, rooted to the bed as she slipped further and further out of reach, her scent lingering long after she was gone.
When he finally opened his eyes, the empty room was suffocating. The sheets beside him were cold, a silent, mocking reminder of everything that had gone wrong between them. Sitting up slowly, his gaze drifted to the door left slightly ajar—a gaping wound in the quiet space. She had been right there, so close, but she'd left without a word. Her silence sliced through him deeper than any blade.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, low and broken. 
Coward, he thought. Not her—but him. 
He had stood by, hiding in the shadows, while they shattered her world. And now, when she was right beside him, he had done the same. Let her walk away when every part of him screamed to stop her, to fight for her. 
His hatred for her, the rage he had harbored for so long, was gone. In its place was something far more unbearable—a hollow, gnawing emptiness that clawed at his chest.
He had wanted to make her suffer, to punish her for what she represented. He had wanted to hate her. But now, staring at the empty space where she should have been, all he felt was regret. Regret for not seeing her pain sooner. Regret for believing, even for a moment, that stripping her of her divinity would be justice. What they had done to her—it wasn't punishment. It was a desecration.
And he had been part of it.
With a growl, Alex pushed himself out of bed, his movements sharp and restless. He stormed to the door, yanking it open as if hoping—praying—that she would be on the other side. But the hallway was empty, the quietness echoing with the sound of his own ragged breathing. His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, claws digging in as if urging him to find her, to fix this. But what was right anymore? He had stood by as they shattered her, and now, when she needed him most, he didn't even have the courage to reach out.
"Luna," he breathed, her name a plea, a vow, a promise. Without a second thought, he bolted down the stairs, his mind racing. He couldn't let her face whatever nightmares haunted her alone. Because the truth was, it wasn't just about protecting her. He needed her.
He needed the fierce, stubborn goddess who defied him at every turn, the one person who looked at him not as a broken Alpha, but simply as him. And now, she was slipping away, running deeper into the darkness that surrounded them both.
If he lost her again... if she was gone for good this time... there would be nothing left. Nothing but an emptiness that would devour him whole.
He had let his anger blind him, and now it was too late. Standing alone in the cold hallway, the memory of that night when they took everything from her haunted him. 
He had played his part, convinced himself it was justice. But now, the more time he spent with her, the more everything blurred. The hatred that had fueled him was crumbling, leaving behind only a terrifying uncertainty.
The council had stripped her powers because they deemed her dangerous, a relic of a bygone era. But now, standing in the emptiness, Alex felt his resolve falter. It hadn't just been a decision—they had feared her. Feared what she could become. And now, she was running—from him, from the truth, from everything.
"Luna," he whispered again, his voice rough. He didn't care what it took, didn't care what price he had to pay.
Alex's thoughts drifted back to the first time he saw her again in that small town. She was standing bruised and battered, her hair wild, yet wearing a faint smile like she was almost... happy. Relief had washed over him in a way he hadn't expected. 
She was alive.
 But Mortal.
 And that reality had shaken him to his core.
Seeing her so vulnerable, stripped of her power, hadn't brought him the satisfaction he thought it would. Instead, guilt gnawed at him. Every bruise and scar on her skin felt like his doing. He had been part of it, the reason she was bleeding and broken, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. But even then, he hadn't stepped forward. Because at that time despite the guilt, despite the regret, he still had harbored anger.
When they met again at the coffee shop, he had tried to cling to that anger, throwing words at her to justify the years of pain. But it felt hollow. She hadn't fought back, just watched him quietly, as if waiting. 
And it infuriated him. 
The truth was, he didn't know if he could let go of his hatred—or if he wanted to. So he had let her walk away again.
He would find her.
Because if he didn't... he would be the one lost forever.