The Alpha Who Never Loved Me (Serena and Kieran) novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Serena’s pov

I didn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined Kieran and that woman in bed together.

My wolf howled inside me, clawing at my chest but I just lay there in our bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of his car in the driveway.

It never came.

By three in the morning, I'd checked my phone forty-seven times and I finally accepted what my wolf had known for hours.

He wasn't coming home.

In five years of marriage, Kieran had never spent a night away from me. Not once. Even during the worst pack disputes, even when he had to drive three hours after a late meeting, he always came back. He'd slip into bed smelling of coffee and exhaustion, pull me against his chest, and fall asleep with his face buried in my hair.

I used to think it meant something.

Now I understood. It wasn't love that brought him home, it was obligation, the same sense of duty that made him marry me in the first place.

But Sophie was back and duty wasn't enough to compete with whatever she made him feel.

A sound escaped my throat, a half sob, half growl. I pressed my face into the pillow and screamed until my voice gave out.

My phone rang.

I grabbed it, thinking maybe he was calling to explain, to apologize, to tell me it was all a misunderstanding—

It was my father.

"Serena." His voice was strained, "It's your mother, she's had a heart attack. We're at St. Michael's."

I felt my whole world grind to a stop.

"I'm on my way."

I was up and running. I didn’t stop till I was running through the hospital corridors.

My father met me outside the ICU, he looked worse for wear.

"She's stable," he said before I could ask. "The doctors say she'll be okay."

I collapsed against him and he caught me, holding me up the way he used to when I was small.

"What happened?"

"She was cleaning this morning and she fell." His voice cracked. "If I hadn't been there—"

"But you were." I squeezed his arm. "She's going to be fine."

He nodded, but his eyes were distant.

I understood. After everything we'd lost, our pack was decimated by rogues, our territory absorbed, our people scattered, my mother was all he had left. Her and me.

When they finally let us see her, she was awake. Her eyes found mine immediately, and her face crumpled with guilt.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

"Mom, don't—"

"Your anniversary." She reached for my hand, "I ruined your anniversary. You should be with Kieran, not stuck here with me."

The mention of his name sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest and my wolf whimpered.

He nodded and stepped closer, his hand finding the small of my back in a gesture that probably looked affectionate to everyone watching.

My parents certainly thought so. I caught my mother smiling at us from her bed, relief softening her features. Her daughter was happy, at least one good thing had come from the fall of Blackthorn Pack.

Kieran had married me for strategy, not love. When the Wandering Wolves attacked and left my pack in ruins, his father saw an opportunity. A marriage alliance would absorb what remained of Blackthorn, expand Crimson's territory, and position Kieran, newly appointed as Alpha as a merciful leader who protected the weak.

I'd known all this.

But we'd grown up together, Kieran and I. We'd played in the same forests, trained with the same warriors, and attended the same pack gatherings. When he looked at me on our wedding day, I thought I saw something real in his eyes.

I'd been a fool.

The return of his first love had stripped away every illusion. Sophie was back, and she'd brought proof of what Kieran really felt.

"Serena?" Kieran's voice cut through my spiral. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I turned to face him and froze.

There, just below the collar of his shirt, was a smear of pink lipstick.

He'd come to the hospital wearing her lipstick. He hadn't even bothered to shower before playing the devoted husband in front of my family.

I caught the faint, floral scent of another woman's perfume and my stomach heaved.

The pink figure haunted me like a ghost, reminding me of our bond, my decade-long crush, and how our five years of so-called marital bliss were so fragile.

"Excuse me," I managed, and fled to the bathroom.

I barely made it to the toilet before I was sick. I threw everything up with only one thing in mind.

Divorce.