The Alpha Who Never Loved Me (Serena and Kieran) novel Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Kieran

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I walked out of the house, pulled the door shut behind

Serena was tied to the bed in the room upstairs; she was not going anywhere. The knots were firm, the fabric was gentle enough not to bruise her wrists, the door was locked. She was safe. She was furious but she was staying.

The question sat in my skull, sharp, persistent: the baby.

She told me it was not mine.

But I did not believe it. Serena would say anything to get this divorce; she would burn the house down if she thought the ashes would set her free. I knew her.

She would not give herself to another man; the woman I married carried pride in her bones, loyalty in her blood, even when that loyalty was no longer directed at me.

Cora pressed against my ribs; the bond hummed between us,ghin but warm, steady. If she gave herself to nother52

man I would fool it. The bond would freeturo, the throad

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would snap, Cora would howl with a grief that cracked my ribs apart.

None of that happened.

The baby was mine.

Jenna knew things; she spent time with Serena, flew to visit her, kept secrets from me. If anyone knew the truth, she did.

I drove to the Alpha house, walked inside, found Jenna in the living room.

She saw me before I reached her; her eyes went wide, she jumped to her feet, turned for the hallway.

I was faster. My hand closed around her arm before she made it three steps.

“Why are you running?” I asked.

“Because you’re looking at me like a psychopath.” She tugged against my grip. “Of course I’m running.”

“If you don’t have anything to hide, why are you scared?52

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“Nobody can tell with you whether they have something to hide or not.” She stopped pulling, stood still, crossed her free arm over her chest. “What do you want?”

“I want to ask you one question.” I held her gaze. “Who is the father of Serena’s baby?”

Jenna’s mouth opened. A word formed on her lips, then she pressed them shut.

My grip tightened on her arm. “Speak.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice dropped. “I think it’s you.”

“Serena keeps telling me it’s not mine.” My jaw ached from the pressure behind my teeth. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know much.” Jenna swallowed. “But when I went

to visit Serena, I saw her with Misha.”

The name cut through my chest, sliced through my composure, left a wound that bled hot into my stomach. My grip moved from her arm to her shoulders; my fingers dug in.

“You saw my wife with another man,” I said; my voice 3/8

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was low, controlled, a dam holding back a flood, “you

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never bothered to tell me.”

“I didn’t think it was anything!” Her voice climbed. “But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe, I don’t know, maybe he could be—”

My hand moved to her throat; my fingers closed around her neck before I registered the action. “Don’t joke about something like that.”

“I’m choking-” she gasped, “I’m not joking- I saw them together, Kieran-”

I released her. She stumbled back, grabbed her throat, coughed before running up the staircase away from me.

I turned, walked out of the room.

The hallway blurred around me; my pulse hammered in my ears, my fists clenched at my sides. Misha. The man who told me there was nothing between the two of them.

How could he be the father?.

No.

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The baby was mine. I knew it in the marrow of my bones;

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Cora knew it, the bond knew it, every cell in my body rejected the alternative.

But knowing was not enough. I needed proof.

I could call a doctor, bring one to the house, run a paternity test while Serena lay tied to the bed.

Or I could go to Misha myself, look him in the eye, ask the question that burned a hole through my chest.

I quickly drove to the hospital.

The receptionist directed me to Misha’s office; I walked down the corridor, pushed through the door without knocking.

Misha looked up from his desk; his eyes widened for half a second, then his face smoothed into a polite, measured calm.

“Alpha Thawthorne.” He set his pen down. “What brings you here?”

“I need a doctor to run a paternity test,” I said.

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Misha’s brow rose. “Of course. I can arrange that

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immediately.” He paused. “Is this about your mistress, her child?”

My jaw tightened. “My life is none of your business.”

“Fair enough.” He reached for his phone, then stopped. He looked at me, set the phone down.

I looked at him; the question clawed at the inside of my throat, scraped its way up.

“Are you the father of Serena’s child?” I asked.

Misha held my stare; his face did not change, his posture did not shift.

“My life is none of your business,” he said.

The words were my own, thrown back at me, a mirror held up to my mouth. My blood roared; my vision narrowed, my hands balled into fists at my sides. Coral snarled, loud, vicious, pressing against my teeth.

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