Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 170

KG (40)

A fresh tremor suddenly shook the narrow passageway, as if to underline the urgency of my warning. Dust and tiny stones cascaded down around us, settling on our shoulders and hair. The confined space felt even more oppressive with the debris falling like a silent threat.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Rocco reached out and grabbed me. “There’s no room for pride now,” he said firmly, his voice steady and commanding. Before I could voice another objection, he had lifted me effortlessly into his arms.

My body stiffened immediately, resisting the closeness I hadn’t allowed since everything had shattered between us. His chest pressed firmly against my side, his arms curled securely beneath my knees and around my back. That unmistakable scent—pine mixed with something uniquely Rocco—hit me with surprising intensity, stirring memories I wasn’t ready to face.

“Put me down, Alpha Blackwood,” I said, my voice taut with tension and defiance.

He ignored my words, pressing forward with swift determination through the dark tunnel. “You know this is the only way,” he insisted.

I tried to keep my body rigid, desperate to minimize any contact, but the rhythm of his strides made it impossible. “I’d rather crawl,” I whispered stubbornly.

“And I’d rather not die because you refuse to accept help,” he countered sharply. “We don’t have the luxury of stubbornness right now.”

Another violent tremor shook the passage, sending more rocks tumbling down. One struck Rocco’s shoulder, but he barely flinched, instinctively shielding me with his own body as he quickened his pace.

“This changes nothing,” I said coldly, even as my body betrayed me, beginning to relax involuntarily against him.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Despite all the years of anger, betrayal, and heartbreak between us, my body remembered him. The warmth radiating from him, the steady thump of his heartbeat pressed against my side—my body recognized every detail, even as my mind fought to reject it.

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Memories clawed their way to the surface—of times when he had carried me before, when those arms had meant safety instead of betrayal—but I shoved them away mercilessly.

“I think I see light ahead,” he said suddenly, his pace quickening with renewed hope.

I peered forward and caught sight of it too—a faint, grayish glow filtering through the tunnel’s end, unmistakably moonlight. A surge of hope lifted my spirits, even if only momentarily, dulling the ache of discomfort.

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