Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Kira’s POV:

The question lingered in the air between us, simple yet shattering: “If I die?”

For a fleeting second, Rocco’s eyes widened—not with anger, but with something far more vulnerable: perhaps shock, perhaps fear. His grip on my wrists slackened just enough to give me a sliver of hope.

A fierce pain seized my chest, the agony I’d been suppressing suddenly crashing over me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t hold back the violent cough that wracked my body, and with it came a spray of blood that splattered across Rocco’s immaculate white shirt, painting it with vivid crimson spots like scattered stars.

He stared down at the stain, his expression frozen in disbelief. Without a word, he released me completely.

I didn’t pause. Summoning the last of my strength, I shoved him away and stumbled through the bathroom doorway, my lungs burning as if torn apart from within. Each breath felt like fire as I staggered across the suite’s living room, the pain intensifying with every step.

God, it hurt so badly. The syndrome was worsening, exacerbated by Rocco’s harsh punishment. I pressed my hand against my chest, desperate to hold myself together even as tears blurred my vision and blurred the edges of the room.

Through the haze, I noticed the sliding glass door leading to the balcony was slightly ajar. Cool night air and pale moonlight spilled inside, casting silvery shadows across the floor. Freedom. An escape—one way or another.

I moved toward the door, the cold air biting through my soaked clothes and sending violent shivers coursing through my weakened body. Behind me, I heard Rocco’s footsteps quicken.

“Kira, stop!” His voice cracked with a tone I hadn’t heard in months—genuine concern.

I turned to face him, standing at the threshold of the balcony. The moonlight illuminated his face, highlighting the turmoil within—anger still simmered, but beneath it lay unmistakable fear.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warned, backing onto the balcony’s edge.

The chill of the night air bit through my drenched clothes, but I barely noticed anymore. Above us, the full moon hung bright and clear, bathing everything in its cold, ethereal glow. I found myself staring up at it, a strange calm settling over me despite the storm raging inside.

“If you’re still angry about your sister’s death,” I said, stepping backward toward the railing, “I can make it right. I can pay the price with my own life.”

Rocco’s face drained of color. “What are you talking about? Get away from there.”

Without hesitation, I climbed onto the railing, my movements steadier than they had any right to be given my weakening state. Looking down, the world below seemed peaceful, distant, final.

“Kira, get down!” Rocco’s voice cracked, laced with desperation bordering on panic. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Balancing precariously on the railing, the wind whipped my wet hair across my face. The moonlight made my skin look ghostly pale—fitting, since I was already half a ghost, wasn’t I?

“I loved you from the first moment I saw you,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. “Remember when you saved me during that storm? That’s when I knew you were my mate.”

I searched his face, hoping to find a trace of the man who once looked at me with devotion instead of hatred.

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