Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Kira’s Perspective:

The cold wind whipped fiercely past my ears as I plummeted downward, the night air biting through my soaked clothes. For a fleeting instant, I felt as if I were floating—weightless and liberated from all burdens. Then, everything blurred—the rush of movement, the sharp sound of fabric tearing—and suddenly, powerful arms encircled me tightly.

Rocco had shifted partially, just enough to summon the reflexes and strength needed to catch me mid-fall. The force of his body crashing against mine knocked the breath right out of my lungs. A searing pain exploded across my chest as we tumbled to the ground, his larger frame absorbing most of the impact.

We landed hard. My head snapped backward violently, and for a brief moment, darkness swallowed my vision.

When consciousness returned, I found myself being carried. Rocco had shifted back into his human form, though his shirt hung in tatters from the strain of the partial transformation. His expression was rigid, jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched visibly. He didn’t meet my eyes. Not a word escaped his lips.

I didn’t resist. What was the use? I had failed at dying just as I had failed at everything else. My body felt unbearably heavy, each shallow breath burning in my chest. The metallic tang of blood lingered on my tongue.

Darkness crept at the edges of my vision as Rocco strode through the doors of the werewolf medical center. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights stabbed at my aching eyes. Voices buzzed around me—urgent, worried—but they seemed distant, as if underwater.

“What happened?” a voice demanded.

“Just help her,” Rocco growled sharply.

I was gently laid on something soft—a gurney, I realized hazily. Figures in white coats swarmed around me. One face sharpened into focus: Chris Miller, Rocco’s personal doctor. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by tight concern as he checked my vitals.

“Pulse is faint,” he reported to someone I couldn’t see. “Blood pressure’s dropping.”

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the possibility that maybe, after all, I would die. The idea no longer frightened me; it was just another fact, like noting the coldness of the night or the color of the sky.

Time lost meaning. I drifted in and out of awareness while they worked on me. Eventually, I was moved to a private room where the lighting was softer, gentler on my throbbing head.

Chris was studying a monitor when I fully came back. Rocco stood by the window, his back to me, his silhouette dark against the night sky beyond.

“Her blood moon antibody levels are dangerously low,” Chris said, his tone professional but laced with worry. “This is troubling, Alpha. These antibodies are crucial for werewolf self-healing and transformation. She shouldn’t be this debilitated from a simple fall.”

I almost laughed bitterly. A simple fall? I had deliberately leapt from a fifth-story balcony in a desperate attempt to end my life.

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