Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 1

POV: Seraphina

Hope was a fragile, tender thing, a flickering candle I'd shielded against the wind for three long years. Ever since the rogue attack that had forced my inner wolf into a protective slumber to save us, my mate bond with Damian had been a hollow echo. He had become a king of ice, ruling our pack and our home with a cold distance that froze my heart daily. But for the last two months, the ice had begun to thaw. A fleeting touch of his hand as we passed in the hall, a shared glance over dinner that lasted a second too long, the ghost of his old smile when he watched our son.

Each tiny gesture was a spark I secretly fanned into a roaring flame of hope within my chest. I still loved him, the Alpha of the Blackwood pack, with a fierce, unwavering devotion that defied his coldness. And tonight, on our fifth anniversary, after weeks of this gentle warming, I let myself believe the man I married was finally returning to me for good.

I decided to surprise him. Leaving the steak to marinate and the wine to breathe, I drove to the Pup Creche early. Nico would be thrilled. A special dinner with both his parents was a rarity, a treasure. Seeing his father smile at him was the only thing that could sometimes coax our son out of his recent volatile moods.

I pulled into the lot, my heart fluttering with a nervous, giddy anticipation, and then it stopped. Completely.

Through the large glass window, I saw them. Damian. Our son, Nico. And a woman with hair like spun moonlight, laughing as she knelt to adjust Nico's collar. My husband, my mate, watched her with an unguarded softness in his eyes I hadn't seen directed at anyone in years. It was a look that starved me, a look I craved more than air itself.

Nico, my sweet, often sullen boy, was transformed. He was beaming, hopping from one foot to another with a pure, unadulterated joy before launching himself into the woman's arms for a hug. This was a side of him I never saw, a vibrant happiness he never, ever shared with me.

My breath hitched as his small, clear voice drifted towards me, a dagger coated in poison, twisting in my gut. "Sylvie, I wish you were my mommy!"

My mind fractured. Sylvie. Not "Miss Sylvie," just… Sylvie. The intimacy of it screamed of familiarity. How long had this been going on? Months? Years? Was this the real reason for my son's tantrums, for the way he glowered at me when I asked him to brush his teeth, only to glow for a stranger? Desperate, I reached for the silent void where our mate bond used to be. Nothing. Just the familiar, aching emptiness.

My trembling fingers dialed his number. He answered on the second ring, his voice clipped and distant. "Sera?"

Later, huddled in the cold guest room, sleep was an impossible luxury. My ears strained, catching every sound, every creak of the old house. I heard a door open. Then her voice, a sultry whisper carrying down the hall, designed to be heard. "Damian, I've missed you so much…"

A soft, feminine giggle followed. It was a sound of victory. Then, a low moan of pleasure that was not my own.

I scrambled from the bed, my bare feet silent on the cold floor, and pressed my ear against the wall that separated us. My blood ran cold.

The rhythmic, unmistakable creak of the headboard began.