The Alpha King's Contracted Luna (Ava and Grayson) novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227 

Chapter 227 

-Grayson’s POV- 

“If I had known you’d be so gloomy, I would have brought you chocolates and flowers.” 

I didn’t bother looking away from the window. The sky outside was a dull shade of gray, thick clouds rolling over each other as if they, too, were restless. Maybe a storm was coming. Maybe it wasn’t. I didn’t really care. 

Lately, I found myself saying less and less. It wasn’t that I had nothing to say it was that the only person I wanted to say anything to wasn’t here. Ava. 

I wanted to tell her everything. How sorry I was. How much I missed her. How much I wanted- 

I stopped. My jaw clenched as I forced the thought to fully form in my mind. 

I wanted the baby. 

I wanted the baby. 

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I exhaled sharply. The weight of it settled deep in my chest, heavier than anything I’d ever carried before. 

And then–click. 

I snapped my head toward the sound, my eyes narrowing at Carter, who stood by the doorway, his phone raised. 

“Did you just take a picture of me?” I asked, my voice low, dangerous. 

A slow grin spread across his face, “Yes. And I’m naming it Grayson Blackwood, Lost in Thought. A rare sighting, really. Never thought I’d see the day.” 

My glare sharpened, “Get out.” 

He waved a dismissive hand and strolled inside, completely ignoring my words as he sank onto the sofa. “Oh, please. Just only one who has come to visit you? You must have really pissed off everyone admit that you’re happy to see me. Am I the this time.” 

I didn’t reply. Just turned back to the window. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a beat. 

I scoffed, “I’ve known you long enough to know you always have an agenda. So why don’t you stop wasting both our time and just tell me what 

you 

want?” 

Carter pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I’m genuinely hurt, Grayson. I thought we were friends.” 

I shot him a look. 

He sighed. “Fine. Your problems have become my problems. Remember when you told me to stop looking for the sister?” 

I went still. My fingers curled into the sheets at my sides, but I didn’t say anything. 

Carter studied me, then smirked. “By the way you’re staring at me blankly, I’d say you already know who she is so I guess my 

ahead investigation wsd in vain even though I found her. It’s 

go 

My jaw tightened. 

15:02 Sun, 23 Feb 

Chapter 227 

林命39% 

But Carter wasn’t done, “However, my little investigation has now put me on the radar of the psychotic maniac who wants you dead. So congratulations–now I have a target on my back too.” 

“So what?” I muttered, “You need protection?” 

Carter let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, “No. I need reassurance that you actually have a plan to fix this mess. Because I like being alive.” 

“Congratulations,” I said dryly. “You’ve just won the award for Selfishness of the Year.” 

+5 

Carter grinned. “And you’ll be right next to me, receiving the award for Stubbornness. Let’s not start throwing stones in glass houses, Grayson. I need a damn plan.” 

Before I could respond, a deep, thickly accented voice cut through the room. 

“I told you Mr. Blackwood is not allowed to have visitors.” 

Carter and I both turned toward the door. 

A tall doctor stood there, his crisp white coat a stark contrast against his dark complexion. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression stony as he frowned at Carter. 

But Carter–being Carter–only smiled in return, as if he hadn’t just been caught breaking the rules. 

He spoke in flawless Italian, his voice smooth and charming. “Le mie scuse, dottore. Dovevo discutere qualcosa di importante con il signor Blackwood. Ora me ne vado.” (My apologies, doctor. I had something important to discuss with Mr. Blackwood. I will take my leave.) 

My eyes flicked between them as the doctor’s expression barely softened. But he gave Carter a begrudging nod. 

With an easy, practiced grace, Carter pushed himself off the sofa, giving me one last glance before strolling toward the door. “Try not to be too miserable, amico. I’ll be in touch.” 

And then he was gone. 

The Doctor turned his sharp gaze to me and let out a breath, muttering something in Italian before stepping closer. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, switching to English. 

I didn’t answer right away. 

Because honestly? I didn’t know how I felt but I was sure he was asking me regarding how I was physically feeling. 

Instead, I muttered, “Fine.” 

He scoffed. “Certo. Of course. Because a man who was shot three times always feels fine.” 

I gave him a deadpan look. 

He sighed and began checking my vitals, asking routine questions I barely paid attention to. My mind was elsewhere–stuck on the conversation with Carter. 

Damien was after him too. 

Damien. 

Just the thought of his name sent a sharp wave of fury through me. That bastard had ruined too many lives already. And now he was planning something. 

15:02 Sun, 23 Feb 

Chapter 227 

38% 

But Carter wasn’t done, “However, my little investigation has now put me on the radar of the psychotic maniac who wants you dead. So congratulations–now I have a target on my back too.” 

“So what?” I muttered, “You need protection?” 

Carter let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, “No. I need reassurance that you actually have a plan to fix this mess. Because I like being alive.” 

“Congratulations,” I said dryly. “You’ve just won the award for Selfishness of the Year.” 

Carter grinned. “And you’ll be right next to me, receiving the award for Stubbornness. Let’s not start throwing stones in glass houses, Grayson. I need a damn plan.” 

Before I could respond, a deep, thickly accented voice cut through the room. 

“I told you Mr. Blackwood is not allowed to have visitors.” 

Carter and I both turned toward the door. 

A tall doctor stood there, his crisp white coat a stark contrast against his dark complexion. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression stony as he frowned at Carter. 

But Carter–being Carter–only smiled in return, as if he hadn’t just been caught breaking the rules. 

He spoke in flawless Italian, his voice smooth and charming. “Le mie scuse, dottore. Dovevo discutere qualcosa di importante con il signor Blackwood. Ora me ne vado.” (My apologies, doctor. I had something important to discuss with Mr. Blackwood. I will take my leave.) 

My eyes flicked between them as the doctor’s expression barely softened. But he gave Carter a begrudging nod. 

With an easy, practiced grace, Carter pushed himself off the sofa, giving me one last glance before strolling toward the door. “Try not to be too miserable, amico. I’ll be in touch.” 

And then he was gone. 

The Doctor turned his sharp gaze to me and let out a breath, muttering something in Italian before stepping closer. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, switching to English. 

I didn’t answer right away. 

Because honestly? I didn’t know how I felt but I was sure he was asking me regarding how I was physically feeling. 

Instead, I muttered, “Fine.” 

He scoffed. “Certo. Of course. Because a man who was shot three times always feels fine.” 

I gave him a deadpan look. 

He sighed and began checking my vitals, asking routine questions I barely paid attention to. My mind was elsewhere–stuck on the conversation with Carter. 

Damien was after him too. 

Damien. 

Just the thought of his name sent a sharp wave of fury through me. That bastard had ruined too many lives already. And now he was planning something. 

2/4 

15:02 Sun, 23 Feb 0 

Chapter 227 

I needed to act. Soon. 

I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed when the doctor started touching the bandages, ut then his voice broke through my haze. 

“You need rest, Mr. Blackwood.” 

I let out a humorless laugh. 

Rest? 

There was no rest for a man like me. Not when the storm was still coming 

“Cristo santo!” 

The curse in rapid, startled Italian made me snap out of my thoughts. 

I turned to the doctor, frowning at the sheer shock on his face. His usually composed expression had shattered, his dark eyes wide as he stared do, his mouth slightly open like he had just seen something impossible. 

My gaze dropped. 

That was when I saw it. 

The bandage he had been unwrapping was now discarded to the side, and where an open, brutal wound should have been- there was nothing. No stitches. No angry, inflamed flesh. Not even the faintest trace of a scar. 

My body had healed.