Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Kira’s Perspective:

The salty breeze was growing stronger, and the crashing of the waves became a constant, thunderous backdrop as Ethan lifted me effortlessly away from the car. The gravel beneath his feet soon gave way to firmer, packed earth, uneven and rugged, as we moved deeper toward the shoreline. The scent of saltwater filled the air, sharp and invigorating, mingling with the damp chill that crept into my bones. The unmistakable feeling of the ocean’s edge surrounded us—wild, untamed, and cold.

Ethan finally set me down onto a hard, jagged surface. The impact stole my breath and sent a sharp ache radiating through my side. I gasped, clutching my ribs, trying to steady myself.

“Doc,” Ethan called out calmly.

A cold shiver ran through me. Someone else was here. I strained to hear, picking up the faint, steady rhythm of measured breathing just a few feet away. The darkness behind my blindfold felt suffocating, pressing in on me from all sides.

“What… what do you want from me?” I whispered, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Why am I here?”

No immediate response came. Instead, I heard footsteps—soft but purposeful—approaching slowly. They stopped right in front of me, and I felt the weight of a presence looming overhead. Even through the blindfold, I sensed their shadow stretching across me. My heart pounded violently, threatening to burst from my chest.

“Is this about Rocco?” I tried again, desperation creeping into my tone. “About the Blackwoods? Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

A calm, unfamiliar voice answered, different from Ethan’s. “Your existence has been problematic from the start.”

A hand reached out and touched my chin, firm yet gentle, lifting my face upward. I flinched violently, a small whimper escaping before I could stop it.

“Who are you?” I asked, my throat tightening with fear. “What do you want?”

Silence. Then the sound of footsteps circling me like a predator stalking its prey. I focused all my senses, desperate to gather any clue.

Beneath the fear, my wolf instincts caught something subtle—a faint herbal scent clinging to the person’s hands. Medical herbs, the kind used in werewolf treatments.

“Are you going to kill me?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

A short, cold laugh echoed. “Nothing so simple.”

I shifted slightly, wincing as the ropes bit deeper into my wrists. “I’ve already broken the bond with Rocco,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “He’s free to be with Kim now. What more do you want?”

“Nice try,” the voice replied smoothly. “Fishing for information won’t work with me.”

Panic clawed at my chest. “Please,” I whispered, voice cracking. “At least tell me why I’m here. What did I do to deserve this?”

“You have no right to make demands,” the voice said, now directly in front of me, cold breath brushing my face.

I recoiled instinctively, heart hammering wildly. Whoever this was had masked their natural scent with chemicals and herbs—clever. They knew I would try to identify them by smell.

Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang, the shrill sound making me jump. He stepped away to answer, his footsteps fading slightly.

Seizing the moment, I cautiously flexed my fingers, searching for the partial cut I had made in the ropes earlier.

A sudden, searing pain exploded through my chest, forcing me to gasp and double over. The Bondbreak Syndrome was flaring again, each wave more intense than the last. I bit my lip hard to stifle a cry, tasting blood.

“Calm down,” Ethan said firmly but gently to Dr. Green. “Let’s get some air.”

I heard them both leave, their footsteps fading into the distance. My heart was still racing from Dr. Green’s explosive words. What did he mean about the child? Why such raw emotion?

Alone in the darkness, I tried to steady my breathing. The blindfold felt like a suffocating weight, every breath bringing the sharp, musty scent of mold mixed with saltwater that burned my nostrils. My mind replayed Dr. Green’s words over and over: “That wasn’t her child.” The pain in his voice was deeply personal, unsettling.

My chest ached fiercely. The Bondbreak Syndrome throbbed with every heartbeat, like a slow, twisting knife between my ribs. Sweat trickled down my neck, making the rough rope around my wrists chafe even more painfully.

I forced myself to focus.

The rocky ground beneath me was cold and unforgiving, dotted with patches of coarse grass. The wind whipped around, carrying the relentless roar of waves crashing far below. I could taste salt on my lips and feel the occasional spray lifted by stronger gusts.

“Blackridge Cliffs,” I whispered to myself, the realization sending a chill through my entire body. “This is the edge of werewolf territory.”

A perfect place for a kidnapping. Or a murder. The cliffs were infamous for “accidents”—werewolves who had fallen to their deaths over the years. No one would question another broken body lying among the rocks.

Slowly, I twisted my wrists, feeling the rope give a little where I had cut it earlier. Not enough to escape yet, but progress. I needed to be ready for when the moment came.

Suddenly, the sound of a car approaching made me freeze. Then came other noises—someone struggling, fabric ripping, angry curses.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” a sharp voice snarled, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground nearby.

My blood turned to ice. That voice… No. It couldn’t be.