Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 56

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Chapter 56

Kira’s Perspective

I clawed desperately at the heap of collapsed earth before me, my fingernails splintered and bleeding from the relentless digging. Every handful of dirt I shifted sent sharp, shooting pains radiating up my arms, but I refused to stop. My father’s life was on the line, and I had to break free. The tunnel collapse had trapped me in suffocating darkness, the air growing thinner with every ragged breath I took.

Just as my strength began to wane, my fingers scraped against something different—a faint glimmer of light piercing the blackness.

“There’s a way out,” I whispered to myself, a surge of hope flooding through my veins.

Ahead, a narrow gap had formed where the packed earth had loosened—a tiny slit of escape.

I dug frantically, widening the opening until weak morning light spilled into the tunnel. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I squeezed through the narrow gap, emerging onto a jagged rocky ledge. The sudden brightness blinded me momentarily, and I blinked rapidly, trying to gather my bearings.

I found myself standing on the edge of a cliff marking the farthest border of the werewolf territory. Below, a rushing river carved its path through the wild landscape. Far off in the distance, the faint outlines of human civilization shimmered—freedom within reach. Behind me, the sounds of pursuit grew louder, footsteps crunching closer through the underbrush.

The cliff dropped steeply, at least thirty feet down to the churning, frothing water below. My stomach twisted with fear at the thought of jumping, but the approaching footsteps left me no choice.

Instinctively, I tried to shift into my wolf form. As a wolf, I’d be stronger, more resilient against the icy water, and better equipped to survive the fall. Closing my eyes, I focused all my energy on the transformation that had once come so naturally. I felt the familiar burning sensation beneath my skin—the telltale tingling of the shift beginning—but then it stopped. Instead, a searing pain ripped through my muscles, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Please, please,” I begged my body silently, willing it to cooperate. I tried again. My nails lengthened slightly, my canines began to extend—but then the change reversed painfully. The Bondbreak Syndrome had progressed further than I had realized. My wolf was slipping away from me. I was losing my connection.

Tears of frustration stung my eyes as the footsteps behind me grew louder and more urgent. I had no choice but to jump—human, weak, vulnerable, and sick.

“For Dad,” I murmured, drawing a deep breath before launching myself into the empty air.

The impact with the water stole the breath from my lungs. Ice-cold currents wrapped around me like thousands of knives, stabbing relentlessly. The shock was nearly overwhelming, threatening to drag me under, but my survival instinct flared, forcing me to fight toward the surface. I gasped desperately for air as the powerful current swept me downstream.

“God, it’s freezing,” I chattered between teeth clenched in cold.

Every attempt to swim toward the shore was thwarted by the river’s strength. My limbs grew numb, muscles weakening under the relentless chill. Several times, the water dragged me beneath the surface, and each time, it became harder to break free.

Finally, my flailing hand found a low-hanging branch. Pain shot through my shoulder as I clung to it, summoning every ounce of remaining strength to pull myself toward the bank. When I finally collapsed onto the muddy shore, I lay there gasping, my clothes soaked and heavy, my body trembling uncontrollably.

But as I looked up, I saw it—the boundary line, just beyond the tree line. So close.

I forced myself to stand, legs wobbling beneath me. Freedom was within reach. Step by painful step, I staggered forward, each movement weighed down by waterlogged clothes.