Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 129

Chapter 129

My fingers curled tightly around the edge of the doorframe as the holographic image of the woman in the red mask fully materialized before me. A chilling wave swept through my veins, freezing the blood in my body. That face—behind that mask—I had seen it somewhere before, and the memory hit me like a thunderclap.

I was submerged beneath the icy waters at the base of the cliff, my body battered and broken, yet my consciousness stubbornly clinging to existence. Through my half-lidded eyes, I observed her approaching the lifeless wolf form I had abandoned on the jagged rocks above. The red mask gleamed ominously in the pale moonlight as she knelt beside what she believed to be my corpse.

“She’s dead,” her warped voice announced to someone off-screen. “We can exploit Blackwood’s grief to our advantage.”

That moment struck me with the force of a physical blow. My jaw clenched so tightly it felt as if my teeth might shatter. It was her. It had always been her—the mastermind behind my supposed death, scheming to manipulate Rocco’s anguish for whatever twisted plan she harbored.

“Your vitals just spiked. Are you okay?” Andy’s worried whisper broke through my thoughts, close to my ear.

I forced myself to steady my ragged breathing, pressing my back firmly against the cold wall beside the slightly ajar door. “I’m fine,” I murmured, tasting the metallic tang of blood on my tongue. “Keep recording. I have to catch every detail of her scheme.”

The masked woman’s distorted voice echoed throughout the quiet library. “Project Phoenix has now entered its final phase. The upcoming step will be irreversible.”

She lifted her hand, and the holographic display shifted, revealing floating images of brain scans hovering before the assembled group. “Our experiments with consciousness transfer have achieved remarkable breakthroughs, but we need vessels of a far higher caliber.”

Dr. Mills—the woman adorned with the triangular pendant I had noticed earlier—rose from her seat and addressed the group. “Transfer stability has reached unprecedented levels—65% in our latest trials. However, stronger hosts are still essential to maintain integrity after the transfer.”

“Ordinary bodies serve only as temporary vessels,” the masked woman added, her voice unnervingly calm. “True power demands the perfect vessel.”

My mind raced to comprehend what I was hearing. Consciousness transfer? Vessels? What on earth were they attempting?

The meeting advanced to what appeared to be the most pivotal moment. The masked woman tapped a device on her wrist, causing a detailed topographical map to materialize in midair.

“During the next full moon, we will perform the final ritual at Moonstone Cave,” she declared, tracing a spot on the projected map with her finger. “This cave lies at the intersection of three major pack territories, maximizing the lunar energy we can harness.”

I burned every detail into my memory. Moonstone Cave—our organization had been hunting for their headquarters for years. Now, we finally had a concrete location.

“All core members must be present, bringing their designated materials,” she continued. “Security will be managed by Blackwood’s team.”

The masked woman clicked a remote, and the holographic display shifted to reveal photographs—at least a dozen faces. I recognized several missing Alpha wolves whose disappearances had been reported over the past year. Others appeared to be comatose patients, connected to various monitoring devices.

“These subjects have exhibited exceptional consciousness resilience,” she explained clinically. “Especially our most recent volunteers.”

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Volunteers? They were treating people—wolves—as mere lab rats. This revelation explained the missing Alphas that had thrown the wolf communities into turmoil.

To my surprise, Rocco’s brow furrowed deeply. His voice, low but resolute, cut through the room.

“Kira, your vitals are crashing,” Andy’s urgent voice sounded in my ear. “The compound is causing a severe reaction. You need to get out now.”

I wiped the blood trickling from my nose with the back of my hand. “One more minute,” I whispered stubbornly. “I need to confirm all attendees.”

Outside the library, muffled voices drifted down the corridor. “Someone reported suspicious activity in the east wing,” a guard said.

Time was slipping away. I forced my aching body to move away from the door, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through my muscles. The compound wasn’t just fading—it was turning toxic within me.

Barely had I reached the hallway when the library door swung open fully. Panic surged through me as I frantically searched for an escape route.

A cleaning closet stood just a few feet away. I slipped inside silently, heart pounding, just as footsteps rounded the corner.

“Search the entire area,” the masked woman’s commanding voice ordered. “Whoever was here can’t have gone far.”

I pressed myself flat against the back wall of the closet, clamping my hand over my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing. Blood trickled from my nose onto my fingers. The experimental compound was breaking down rapidly now, leaving my body wracked with agony.

Heavy footsteps drew closer. The closet door handle rattled sharply.

I held my breath, pain forgotten in the face of imminent danger.