The Alpha King's Contracted Luna (Ava and Grayson) novel Chapter 280

Chapter 280 

Chapter 280 

-Grayson’s POV- 

“Are you sure about this?” 

Ava’s voice was soft, careful, as if s 

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knew exactly how heavy this moment was for me. It took me a second to register her words before I turned to her. And when I did, despite everything–the weight pressing against my chest, the ghosts lingering in the air–I smiled. Just at the sight of her. 

I had been doing that a lot lately or at least for the past three days. 

Three days. That’s how long it had been since I almost lost her again. Since I put an end to the threat hanging over the realm once and for all. 

I exhaled slowly, turning my attention back to the house in front of me. 

The remains of it. 

Elaine had been right when she said I needed to confront my past to move on. Talking to my parents–or what was left of them–wasn’t going to change anything. Telling my father how much I hated that I became him, how I blamed him for making me like this, telling my mother that I wished I had never become like this… none of that would erase what was already written. 

I had to come here. To where it started. 

To where the hate first took root, before it festered and spread, before it grew into something so consuming that I didn’t even realize I had let it shape me. 

“You want me to go in with you?” Ava asked again. 

I dragged my gaze away from the house and shook my head. “I think I have to do this myself.” 

She nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. I knew she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Instead, she squeezed my hand one last time before letting go. 

I turned back to the house. 

The fire had taken almost everything. Almost. The structure was still standing, but it was a hollow shell of what it once was. The roof had caved in years ago, leaving jagged, blackened beams exposed to the sky. The walls were cracked, some sections barely holding together, others collapsed entirely, leaving gaping holes like open wounds. 

And yet, it still felt… imposing. 

Even after all these years, even as the vines crept up its broken frame and nature slowly tried to reclaim it, it still stood like it was daring me to step inside. 

I inhaled. 

Even now, even after so much time had passed, I could still smell the smoke. 

Not fresh, not like it had just burned–but old, settled deep into the bones of the house, into the very ground. A scent that would never truly leave. 

I forced my feet forward, stepping past the threshold. 

The moment I did, the past crashed into me. 

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10:30 Fri, 21 Mar 

Chapter 280 

Not just in memories, but in something deeper. Something tangible. 

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I could almost hear it–the distant echoes of footsteps, of laughter, of voices calling my name. I could almost see it, like the years hadn’t touched this place at all. 

The entryway had once been grand. My mother had kept the floors polished, the dark wood always gleaming. A chandelier used to hang above, casting a warm golden glow over the space. 

Now, the floors were scorched, covered in dirt and debris. The chandelier was gone–either melted in the fire or shattered beyond recognition. 

But in my mind, I was five years old again. 

And the house was alive. 

I could see my mother standing in the foyer, arms crossed as she smiled at me. She was beautiful–not in a delicate way, but in a way that made people stop and pay attention. She had a presence that filled every room she walked into. 

“Grayson,” She had said, amusement in her voice. “What have you done now?” 

I had been covered in mud, trailing it through the house as I ran to her, my little legs barely able to keep up with my excitement, “It wasn’t me!” I had laughed, though I had been the only one outside. 

She had sighed, shaking her head, but there was no anger there. No real disappointment. Just fondness. 

I blinked, and the vision shifted. 

The warmth vanished. 

Now I was eight. 

And 

my 

father was standing in that same entryway, his hand gripping my arm so tightly it ached. 

“You think the world is kind?” He had growled. “You think it’s going to treat you gently because you’re a child?!” 

I had tried to hold back my tears. He hated when I cried. Hated when I showed weakness. 

But it hurt. 

My arm hurt. 

“I don’t-” My voice had cracked, “I didn’t mean to- 

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“You didn’t mean to?” He had shoved me back, sending me stumbling. “Pathetic.” 

I had fallen to the ground. Not because he had hit me. Not yet. But because the weight of his disappointment had felt worse than a blow. 

The house had been warm once. Bright. But after that moment, the shadows had started to creep in. 

The laughter had started to fade. 

And then, another shift. 

I was twelve. 

Standing at the top of the grand staircase, staring down at my father as he spoke with the other Alphas 

His voice had been deep, commanding, full of confidence. The kind of voice that made men listen. The kind of voice that I 

had once thought I wanted to have. 

Until I realized what he was saying. 

Until I realized what kind of man he truly was. 

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I had gripped the railing, my knuckles white. That was the first time I had ever truly thought it–I don’t want to be like him. 

Something hit me suddenly, yanking me to another memory and a burst of laughter followed. 

I blinked, and the burned ruins faded away, replaced by a warm summer afternoon. 

Elaine. 

She was giggling, arms wrapped around my waist as she tried to pull me away from the top of the stairs. Her blonde hair was wild from running around outside, her cheeks flushed pink. She wasn’t older than seven, and yet she had always been the one dragging me into trouble. 

“Come on!” She whined, tugging insistently, “Before they find us!” 

I hesitated, glancing one last time toward the study where my father and his men were still talking. Their voices were low. serious. I wasn’t supposed to be listening. 

But Elaine didn’t care about any of that. 

She grabbed my hand tighter and pulled harder, her blue eyes shining with mischief. “You’re gonna miss it!” 

I sighed, but I let her drag me down the hallway, past the grand windows where golden sunlight streamed in, past the shelves lined with books we were never allowed to touch. 

She led me to the courtyard, where she’d set up a “trap” using two chairs, a blanket, and a pile of leaves. 

“This is gonna be perfect,” she whispered, crouching behind a bush. “When Liam walks by–boom! Leaves everywhere!” 

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You do know Liam twice your size, right?” 

Elaine just grinned, completely undeterred, “That’s what makes it funny.” 

I had laughed then. A real, full laugh that felt foreign now. 

She had been my light in that house, in that life. 

And then, like smoke, the memory faded. 

The air shifted, grew thick, suffocating. 

I was no longer standing in the courtyard with Elaine ‘s laughter ringing in my ears. 

I was inside the house.