Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Kira’s POV

The door handle turned with a soft, almost imperceptible click that felt as loud and jarring as a gunshot in the stillness. My heart surged violently, pounding so fiercely it seemed to fill my entire chest. I frantically scanned the dimly lit room, desperate for an escape route, but there was none. Trapped in this cold chamber alongside Kim’s preserved body, I was cornered with no way out. The secret door remained slightly open—the only exit—but closing it silently was impossible.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Without hesitation, I slipped behind a tall rack of scientific equipment nestled in the corner, pressing my back firmly against the cold, unforgiving wall. I struggled to steady my breathing, though my pulse thundered so loudly I was sure anyone entering could hear it. The eerie blue glow emanating from the preservation tank cast long, unsettling shadows across the floor. Kim’s suspended form inside the tank was a haunting reminder of the terrible secret I’d just uncovered.

The outer door creaked open. Through the gaps between the equipment, I spotted Dominic—Rocco’s Beta driver—stepping cautiously into the research room. He clutched a folder of documents, his face set in a serious, unreadable expression as he scanned the space. My muscles tensed instinctively when his gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar secret door.

Please don’t notice it. Please don’t come any closer.

Suddenly, a shrill ringtone shattered the tense silence. Dominic flinched, then reached into his pocket to answer his phone. His back was turned toward the secret door, his attention fully captured by the call. This was my chance.

Holding my breath, I slipped quietly out of my hiding spot and through the narrow opening of the secret door. Every nerve in my body screamed with tension as I gently pulled the door almost closed behind me, careful to avoid the latch clicking shut.

“Yes, Alpha. I understand,” Dominic’s voice was low and steady as he spoke into the phone. “The documents are on your desk. I’ll make sure Mrs. Blackwood remains comfortable.”

Mrs. Blackwood. The name twisted painfully in my mind. That woman had been dead for three years.

I crept along the shadows of the research room, using the tall bookshelves and scattered equipment as cover. My injured ankle throbbed sharply with every cautious step, but I bit back the pain, forcing myself onward. Just a few more seconds…

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