Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Rocco’s Perspective

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I navigated the winding road toward the Hoggins territory. My mind kept circling back to Kira’s maddeningly composed demeanor earlier that morning. When I had casually mentioned my dinner plans with Kim, she hadn’t even flinched. No flicker of jealousy, no trace of pain—just that icy, distant look in her eyes that sent a surge of frustration through me. How could she remain so detached when everything between us felt like it was unraveling?

My gaze flickered repeatedly to the silent phone resting on the passenger seat beside me—three times in as many minutes. Damn it. She should have reached out by now. In the past, Kira would have called within an hour of me leaving, whether to nag me about some trivial thing I’d forgotten or simply to hear my voice. But today? Nothing. Not a single message, not a missed call.

I snatched up the phone, scanning the screen for any notifications. The blank display seemed to mock me with its emptiness.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, tossing the device back onto the seat. What was I even hoping for? That she’d suddenly care about me dining with Kim? That she’d plead with me not to go? The thought made me feel foolish.

I forced myself to refocus on the road ahead. This meeting was crucial—too important to be derailed by Kira’s unexpected indifference. The military alliance between the Hoggins and Blackwood families had endured for three generations, a steadfast shield protecting our shared borders from encroaching rival packs. My warriors patrolled their northern frontier; their soldiers guarded my southern lines. The balance depended on trust and unity.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. My heart leapt, and I nearly slammed on the brakes. Quickly pulling it out, my hopes crashed when I saw it was only a stock market alert. Not Kira.

Why did I even care so much? She had made it perfectly clear this morning that she didn’t give a damn about who I was with or what I did.

Pulling up to the massive, ancient oak gates that marked the entrance to Hoggins territory, two guards immediately approached. Upon recognizing me, they bowed their heads respectfully and stepped aside.

“Alpha Blackwood,” they greeted in unison.

I nodded curtly in return, driving down the long, winding driveway. William Hoggins’ estate lacked the sleek modernity of my own mansion, but its weathered stone walls and imposing architecture spoke volumes about the family’s proud military heritage—solid, unyielding, and formidable.

William was already standing on the front steps when I arrived.

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