Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Rocco’s POV

I found myself standing at the center of the room, encircled by the anxious faces of both my pack and members of the Hoggins family. The atmosphere was tense, charged with anticipation, when suddenly, a sharp, piercing squeal shattered the air. The sound blasted from the speakers, causing everyone to wince and instinctively cover their ears. Beneath my skin, my wolf stirred instantly, hackles rising as a primal alert surged through me.

“What the hell is that?” I muttered under my breath, eyes darting around the room as the screech faded into an unsettling silence.

Then, a distorted voice echoed through the sound system, cold and unrecognizable. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our show.”

Every head in the room whipped toward the enormous screen dominating the far wall. There, a figure cloaked in a black robe appeared, their face obscured by a bright red mask. The mask glowed faintly at the edges with unmistakable magical energy, making it impossible to discern any features or even determine their gender.

Dominic materialized at my side within seconds, his voice low and urgent. “Alpha, the security system’s been hacked. We’re tracing the signal, but it’s encrypted through multiple layers.”

I forced my face into a calm mask, refusing to reveal any hint of panic to my pack. “How long before you trace it?”

“We’re working on it,” he whispered.

Stepping forward, my gaze locked on the screen, I felt the room grow deathly quiet. Everyone there sensed the weight of the moment. Years of experience in business and leadership had taught me to never show weakness, especially when under threat.

“You have her?” I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of fury rising inside me.

The masked figure tilted their head in a fluid, almost unnatural motion. “I’m sorry, could you clarify?” Their tone was mocking, playful. “Which ‘her’ do you mean?”

A ripple of confusion spread through the crowd as worried glances were exchanged. My stomach clenched tightly. What could they mean by “which her”?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snapped, dropping any pretense of diplomacy.

The figure laughed, a sound warped by the magic protecting their identity. “Ah, I see the confusion on your face, mighty Alpha. Let me make things clear.”

The camera shifted away from the figure, revealing a chilling scene that made my blood run cold. The screen displayed a jagged cliff overlooking a rocky coastline. Suspended from the cliff by shimmering silver chains were two women.

“As you can see, I have your Luna,” the voice continued smoothly, “and your former mate.”

Shock rippled through the crowd in whispers. I barely registered the noise, my focus locked on the screen. My hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails bit into my palms.

On the left hung Kim, dressed in what looked like a ceremonial marking gown, her eyes covered by a blindfold. She thrashed wildly against her restraints, her cries raw and desperate. “Rocco! Help me! The silver burns! It hurts so much!”

On the right was Kira, also blindfolded and suspended by silver chains, but utterly still. Her face was pale and her breathing shallow. Unlike Kim, she made no sound, no plea for help. The resignation in her posture sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Someone needs to find that location,” I hissed to Dominic. He nodded sharply and stepped back, speaking urgently into his comm device.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Vanessa, Kim’s mother, pushing through the crowd toward the front. Her face was twisted with horror as she stared at the screen.

“Kim! Kira! Can you hear me?” she screamed, her voice breaking with fear and desperation. She collapsed to her knees, reaching out toward the screen. “Please, don’t hurt my daughters!”

Kim’s head jerked toward the sound of her mother’s voice. “Mother? Help me! I’m so scared!”

Kira only turned her head slightly toward Vanessa’s cries before going still again, as if surrendering to whatever fate awaited her.

Turning back to the screen, I demanded, “What do you want?” My voice was calm but laced with barely contained rage. “Name your price.”

The view returned to the masked figure. “Price? You think this is about money?” They chuckled darkly. “No, Rocco Blackwood. I want to play a game.”

An electric tension filled the room. The fear and anger radiating from the crowd matched my own, only magnified a hundredfold.

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