Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kira’s Perspective

The chill of the bathroom tiles pressed uncomfortably against my bare feet as I stood motionless, fixated on the mirror before me. But though my eyes were locked on my reflection, I barely registered the face staring back—hollow, worn, and broken. The shower I had just taken failed to wash away the lingering scent of the hospital or the emptiness gnawing at my chest.

How had I lost everything so quickly? Just within a few fleeting hours?

Without thinking, my hand moved to my stomach—now flat, empty. The life I once carried was gone. No growing child. No future as a mother. Only a vast, aching void.

“Why?” I whispered softly, my voice trembling as I addressed the reflection. A single tear traced a cold path down my cheek. “Why did you do this, Rocco?”

The bond between us had shattered—snapped like a fragile thread. That once constant, warm connection that had tethered us together was now silent, leaving a deafening void in my mind.

I gripped the edge of the sink, barely steadying myself as a wave of weakness crashed over me. Bondbreak Syndrome. Even as a werewolf medical researcher, I had encountered it only twice during my residency—a rare, almost mythical affliction that most wolves never witnessed in their lifetimes. Yet now, it was eating me alive from within.

I had sacrificed everything for him—my promising career in werewolf medical research, my independence, my dreams—all surrendered to become the perfect Luna for the Blackwood pack. I had believed it was worth it because I loved him, and I trusted he loved me in return.

“What a cruel joke,” I muttered bitterly, splashing cold water onto my face in a futile attempt to wash away the pain.

When we first met, Rocco had been different—gentle, even. Though he was the Alpha heir to one of the most powerful pure-blood families, his pursuit of me was tender, making me feel cherished, protected, loved.

“You’re the one, Kira,” he had whispered the night he marked me. “My wolf has never wanted anyone the way it wants you.”

Lies. Every word of it.

For the first two years, I believed we were happy. At least, I thought so. Then I became pregnant, and everything shifted. The late nights at the office became more frequent, his passionate kisses turned mechanical, and the scent of him on our sheets faded as days stretched between his visits to our bed.

But it wasn’t just anxiety. It was betrayal.

I closed my eyes, feeling the restless stirring of my wolf within me. She was weakening, growing quieter with every passing day as the syndrome advanced. Soon, she would vanish completely, leaving me human before death claimed me.

What was the point of fighting anymore? We had lost everything.

That dark thought slipped in before I could stop it. My mate, my unborn pup, my health, my future—all vanished in the span of a single day.

But I still had one thing left—my father.

The shrill ring of the phone shattered my spiraling thoughts. I stumbled out of the bathroom, nearly collapsing as my legs threatened to give way beneath me. The caller ID displayed the number of the werewolf medical center.

My heart skipped a beat. “Hello?”

“Ms. Silverstone? This is the nurse from Silver Crescent Medical Center. Your father’s condition has suddenly deteriorated. Dr. Bennett has ordered emergency treatment protocols.”

“I’m coming right away!” I said, my voice shaking as panic surged through me. I scrambled to pull on clothes, my hands trembling.

I drove recklessly, speeding far beyond the limit, silently praying to the moon goddess—though I no longer trusted her. Please, not him too. Don’t take everyone from me.

Thirty minutes later, I burst through the doors of the medical center, my breath ragged and uneven. The sterile scent of silver-infused antiseptic stung my nostrils as I hurried toward the special treatment wing reserved for werewolf patients.

Outside the treatment room, I paced nervously, my mind racing.

Dad had been in a coma for nearly a year after being found unconscious from silver poisoning. No one knew how it had happened—just another tragic mystery that had befallen the once-proud Silverstone family.

“Please be okay,” I whispered, my throat tight with fear. “Please, Dad. I can’t lose you too.”

I had already lost so much—my mate, my unborn pup, my health. If my father died now, I wasn’t sure I could find the strength to carry on.

After what felt like an eternity, a nurse approached, clipboard in hand. “Ms. Silverstone? I need you to authorize payment for today’s treatment.”

I took the clipboard, eyes widening as I saw the figure. The emergency silver toxin neutralizer alone cost $15,000, not including the daily care fees for a comatose werewolf.

“Is there a problem?” The nurse’s tone was gentle but firm.

“No,” I whispered, signing my name with a shaking hand. “No problem.”

At the payment counter, the administrator’s fingers clicked rapidly over the keyboard. “Your total outstanding balance is $147,832. How would you like to handle payment today?”

My stomach dropped. I transferred the last of my savings—just under $5,000—and watched my account balance shrink to $987.50.

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