Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163

The husky voice, rough and low, filled the tense silence, carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore. It was Viereira speaking, her words laced with a bitter edge, recounting the torment she had endured. Despite the raw emotion in her tone, I forced myself to maintain a calm expression, carefully masking the turmoil inside as I listened intently to her confession.

“The war, the long years spent at the phares before I found a way back… All I ever wanted was to honor my father’s memory,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. A cold, uneasy shiver ran down my spine at her words.

“What did I find when I returned?” Her face darkened, shadowed by a painful memory. “My brother, my pure-blooded Alpha brother, entangled with a half-blood. Not just involved—preparing to be mated. Planning a wedding.” She spat the words out like venom, each syllable dripping with disgust.

A surge of anger welled up inside me, fueled by confusion and disbelief. “So this is about my bloodline? You tried to kill me because I’m not a pure-blood?”

Lyra let out a hollow laugh that echoed eerily against the cave’s stone walls. “It’s not just that!” she snapped. “I saw him with you—the way he looked at you…” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying a deeper hurt. “The way he touched you. The smile he reserved only for me before.”

My stomach twisted painfully as realization dawned. This wasn’t merely about purity of blood. It was about possession, jealousy, and a twisted attachment to Rocco that transcended ordinary sibling love.

“You need help, Lyra,” I said softly, my voice steady but filled with concern. “This isn’t normal. It’s not healthy to feel this way about your own brother.”

To my surprise, she nodded slowly, almost resigned. “Normal? I’ve known I wasn’t normal since I was a child. It’s the Blackwood ‘gift.’” She made air quotes around the word gift, her tone dripping with bitter sarcasm.

“What do you mean?” I asked, though a sinking feeling told me I already suspected the truth.

“Mental illness runs in our bloodline,” Lyra explained, her voice turning coldly academic. “Especially after trauma. Mother had it, I have it…” Her eyes gleamed with a strange intensity. “And Rocco…”

My breath hitched. “Rocco?”

“You think he’s immune?” Lyra laughed softly, a sad, hollow sound. “My brother buries it all deep inside. Controls it, suppresses it. But the darkness is always there, lurking beneath the surface. The more he tries to keep it down, the worse it gets when it finally breaks free.”

I recalled the fleeting moments when I’d glimpsed something unsettling in Rocco’s eyes—a coldness, a shadow of something frightening that vanished almost immediately. I had convinced myself it was my imagination. Had I been witnessing the same instability that had completely overtaken Lyra?

“Let’s get back to your plan,” I said, steering the conversation away from Rocco. “You planned your own death. Why?”

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