Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47

“Why?” I finally managed to croak out, my voice rough and strained.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard that I had spoken. “Alpha Blackwood’s orders. He was very adamant that we figure out what’s affecting your health.” Her tone dropped to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. “Between you and me, he seemed genuinely worried about you.”

I turned my gaze away from her. “He’s not worried about me. He’s worried about dragging out my suffering.”

The nurse’s smile faltered, uncertainty flickering across her face. “I… I’m sure that’s not—”

“When am I allowed to leave?” I cut her off sharply.

“Oh, not anytime soon, I’m afraid. They’re still running evaluations on your condition.”

I closed my eyes, shutting her out, desperate to escape the sterile room and the coldness of their concern. Eventually, she left, and I was left alone with the heavy silence and my swirling thoughts.

An hour later, the tests began—blood draws, scans, physical exams checking my reflexes and my ability to transform. I went through the motions mechanically, answering questions when prompted, moving limbs as instructed. None of it seemed to matter, as long as I remained trapped in Rocco’s world.

By afternoon, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. They left me alone to rest before the final round of tests scheduled for moonrise. I lay flat on my back, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind of everything.

The door opened abruptly, without a knock. Rocco stepped inside, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit. His expression was unreadable as he approached my bedside.

“You look better,” he said, though the casualness in his voice suggested he didn’t truly care.

I studied him carefully, noticing the dark circles shadowing his eyes. Had he even slept? The thought that he might be suffering too sparked a small, spiteful flicker of satisfaction inside me.

“If I had a terminal illness as a werewolf,” I said, my voice deliberately light, “would you consider letting me go?”

His eyes narrowed sharply. “What terminal illness?”

“Just hypothetically,” I clarified, watching his reaction closely. “If I were dying, would your thirst for revenge still matter? Or would you let me have peace in my final days?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes, something I hadn’t expected. Before he could respond, the door opened again and Chris entered, holding a tablet in his hands.

“I have the test results,” he announced.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, voice dangerously soft. “No illness. No physical cause for your weakness. You’re perfectly healthy.”

The bitter irony stung so sharply I could almost taste it. The tests couldn’t detect Bondbreak Syndrome, and somehow, I was the one to blame.

“Just like your father,” he continued coldly. “A hypocrite.”

Heat surged through my skin, anger flaring fiercely. How dare he say that? After all he’d done—betraying me, replacing me, torturing me—he had the audacity to stand there and judge me?

A scream built in my throat, desperate to break free. I wanted to throw the tablet at his flawless face. I wanted to scream the truth about what was happening to me—how my wolf was slipping away day by day, how the pain sometimes stole my consciousness, how I was literally dying from his betrayal.

For a moment, I considered telling him everything when I saw a flicker of guilt cross his features. But I was glad I held back.

“You caught me,” I said flatly. “Congratulations.”

His jaw clenched tightly. “What happened to you? Where’s the sweet, kind Kira I marked as my mate? The one who cared for everyone, who couldn’t tell a lie to save her life?”

I met his gaze steadily. “You killed her, Rocco. You killed her when you betrayed her with her own sister. You killed her when you let your pup die inside her womb. You killed her when you chose revenge over love.” I paused, a strange calm washing over me. “So thank you for that, at least. The old Kira was weak. This one isn’t.”