Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Kira’s Perspective

“Fuck me.”

Those words weren’t mine, yet they rang loud and clear inside my head, reverberating with brutal clarity. I stood frozen in my bedroom, one arm halfway slipped into the sleeve of my jacket. I had been rushing to make it to my prenatal appointment at the medical center when that sudden, searing sensation hit me—a scorching pulse coursing through our bond, but it wasn’t meant for me.

Oh god. No, this can’t be happening again.

My vision distorted, twisting and pulling as if someone were dragging me sideways into a dark, endless tunnel within my mind. It was that terrifying mate bond surge again—the strange connection where I could sometimes feel Rocco’s emotions. But this time, it wasn’t just feelings. No, it was far worse.

Please, make it stop. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to—

But my mind refused to obey. Images crashed over me with unbearable sharpness, each one more devastating than the last.

Rocco. My mate. My husband. The father of my unborn pup.

He was naked, his muscular form moving with relentless rhythm over another woman. His hands gripped her thighs tightly, spreading them wide as he thrust into her with raw, brutal force. The bed frame slammed against the wall with every movement, the sound pounding in perfect sync with my wildly beating heart.

“Harder,” the woman moaned, her voice hauntingly familiar. “Don’t hold back.”

A sick twist gripped my stomach as I finally saw her face. It was… me? No. Not exactly. The features were an exact mirror of mine, but her body was fuller, more vibrant—pregnancy had left me exhausted and swollen, but this woman radiated vitality.

No. No. No.

My knees gave out, and I clutched the dresser to keep from collapsing. This can’t be real. My chest tightened painfully, constricting my breath until I was gasping.

The room spun wildly around me as nausea surged, bile rising in my throat. In my vision, Rocco’s hands kneaded the woman’s breasts roughly, his mouth sucking hard on her nipples while she arched beneath him. His teeth grazed the curve of her neck—right where my mating mark was—and she responded by wrapping her legs tighter around his waist, her hips rising to meet each of his thrusts.

“Your pussy is so much better,” he growled into her ear, and the bond between us trembled violently.

Those words cut through me like sharpened blades. I doubled over, a strangled sound tearing from my throat—a mix of sob and scream—as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen, like a silver knife plunged deep into my womb. I gasped, clutching my belly as the vision mercilessly continued, each detail etched with cruel precision.

The bond between us—our sacred mating bond—was unraveling. I could feel every spiritual thread snapping, one by one, like live wires being severed. Each break sent electric agony surging through my body.

This can’t be happening. Alpha mates are forever. The bond is sacred. These thoughts tumbled helplessly through my mind as another contraction seized me.

He promised. He swore before the moon goddess. He marked me.

I staggered toward the door, my medical training kicking in despite the emotional wreckage threatening to consume me. Something was terribly wrong with the pup. At just two months, my pregnancy was still fragile—even with the accelerated werewolf gestation.

My hands shook so violently that gripping my car keys felt like an impossible task. Our pup. Our baby. Tears streamed down my face, blurring everything around me. Please, little one, hold on.

Inside the car, I gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, trying desperately to focus on the road ahead instead of the relentless, haunting vision of my husband with… who was she? The resemblance was uncanny. Could it really be…?

“Oh, yeah, just like that, Kim,” Rocco groaned inside my head. It was her. I hadn’t seen her in years.

Another wave of pain crashed over me, and I felt something warm trickle down my thighs. No, no, no. Not my pup. Please, no.

“Stay with me,” I begged, pressing one hand to my abdomen. “Please, baby, don’t leave me too. I can’t lose you both. I can’t—”

Through the bond, I sensed Rocco’s pleasure building. His movements became more urgent, his breathing ragged and harsh. The woman—Kim—was crying out beneath him, her nails leaving angry red marks down his back.

“I’m close,” she gasped, and he growled in response.

Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the searing pain until I could barely see the road. The medical center loomed just ahead, its sleek, modern building a beacon of fragile hope. My wolf instincts screamed at me to hurry, to save our pup.

“Kim, yeah…” Rocco roared as he climaxed, the sound echoing cruelly through our bond.

“You’re joking,” I laughed bitterly, hysteria edging my words. “That rare disease from the old pack tales? The death sentence?” I shook my head fiercely. “No. Run the tests again. That’s not— I can’t have—”

“It’s real, and it’s serious,” Lucas said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression grim. “When a mate bond breaks violently—especially during pregnancy—it can trigger a cascade of physiological failures.” His voice softened. “With herbal treatments, you might have one to two years. But the treatment will be painful—similar to human chemotherapy. It will temporarily suppress your wolf abilities.”

I pressed my fists to my temples, desperate to block out his words. This couldn’t be happening. Not all at once. My husband, my pup, and now my life?

“And without treatment?” I whispered, barely able to speak.

“Six months to a year, at most,” he replied quietly. “Each werewolf is different. You’ll gradually lose your abilities until you become human, then…” He didn’t need to finish.

I stared down at my hands, expecting them to tremble, but they were oddly still. The shock was so complete it bypassed terror and landed in a strange, numb calm.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I whispered. “My father’s still in a coma. The Silverstone pack has suffered enough.” They can’t know. Dad can’t know. Not if he ever wakes up.

Lucas nodded reluctantly. “I’ll keep your confidence.”

With trembling hands, I reached for my phone and dialed Rocco’s number. Maybe if I told him about my condition, about losing our pup… would he even care? Would it matter to him that I’m dying?

“Kira.” His voice was cold, clipped, businesslike. “What is it?”

Before I could answer, a woman’s laugh echoed in the background. “Rocco, come back to bed. I’m not done with you yet.”

The voice—so much like mine, yet full of life and happiness—made my decision for me.

“I lost our pup, and I want a divorce,” I said flatly, surprised by the steadiness in my voice when everything inside me was crumbling.

There was a pause. Then a cold chuckle. “Playing games, Kira? Fine by me. I’ve been waiting for this.”