Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I held the small slip of paper tightly in my hand, the coordinates inscribed in Dominic’s precise handwriting. My thoughts spun wildly, each scenario darker and more unsettling than the last.

Could Lyra truly be gone? And what role could my father possibly have played in her death? The Derek Silverstone I knew was a man who dedicated his life to helping others—he would never harm anyone, especially not a young female wolf. The very idea seemed absurd.

“We’re nearly there, Ms. Silverstone,” Dominic’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

“Thank you, Dominic,” I murmured, slipping the paper with Lyra’s coordinates carefully into my pocket. I wasn’t going to push him for more details—he’d already risked enough by handing this over.

The car veered onto the long, twisting driveway leading up to the Blackwood mansion. I recalled the first time I had laid eyes on it—the grand stone edifice nestled at the forest’s edge, its windows aglow with a warm, inviting light. Tonight, under the cold moonlight, it appeared stark and forbidding, more a fortress than a home.

“Luna, would you like to come inside?” Dominic, Rocco’s beta, asked politely, opening the door for me.

I shook my head gently. “No, thank you. I’ll wait out here.”

He nodded and disappeared into the house.

My gaze drifted to the towering Moon Maple tree dominating the side garden, its silver leaves shimmering softly in the moonlight.

During full moon season, Rocco used to gather these leaves to brew Moon Tea for me. I remembered how carefully he selected only the finest, most perfect leaves, his strong hands tender as they brushed against the delicate silver foliage.

It was hard to reconcile the man who once brewed tea for me and wrapped me in his warmth on cold nights with the cold, calculating Alpha standing before me now—someone who seemed to look right through me instead of at me.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the rough bark of the Moon Maple. It felt coarse beneath my touch, its life force subdued now that the full moon had passed. The tree was beginning to wither, much like my connection to Rocco, much like the wolf inside me.

“Rocco,” I whispered, sensing his presence before I heard his voice.

“Hmm?” His tone was flat, devoid of emotion.

I turned to find him standing a few feet away, his tall silhouette outlined by the soft glow from the house. Even in the dim light, I could see the hardness in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw.

“I want to have your Moon Tea one last time,” I said, surprised by the steadiness of my own voice.

His brows knitted together in a frown. “The moon season is over. Don’t waste my time.”

“Please?” I begged quietly, hating how desperate I sounded. But I needed this—for closure, for some semblance of peace.

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face—a shadow of the Rocco I once knew. Did our three years of marriage mean nothing to him?

“You must truly hate me, don’t you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to myself.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, his icy blue eyes unwavering.

I swallowed hard. “Then… would it make you happy if I died?”

I heard his heart skip a beat. The question seemed to catch him off guard, his expression softening for just a moment before hardening again.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But it’s just tea. Come inside.”

In the kitchen, Rocco moved with practiced ease, pulling a small wooden box from a cabinet. Inside lay dried Moon Maple leaves, carefully preserved from the last full moon season.

I watched silently as he prepared the tea, his movements precise and controlled. The thought that he once did this for me—out of love—made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the Bondbreak Syndrome.

“The tea is ready,” he announced, setting a steaming cup before me.

The familiar aroma of Moon Tea—earthy and sweet with a hint of wildness—washed over me, stirring a flood of memories. Nights spent curled against Rocco’s chest, his arms wrapped around me as we shared this sacred drink. Mornings when I’d wake to find he’d already brewed a fresh pot, a silent gesture of his love.

I took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through me. It didn’t taste quite the same as it had in those happier days.

“Dominic told me you changed your mind?” I asked, reminding myself of the reason I was here. “I need the money now, and we can dissolve our bond before the Moon Goddess later.”

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