Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 137

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POV: Seraphina

The silence in the medical center was thick and heavy, a stark contrast to the howling storm outside. My father lay in the bio-stasis pod, still and pale, a king sleeping in a tomb of glass and steel. Three years. Three years he had been like this, trapped in the endless twilight between life and death, all because of one man's wounded pride. The rage from the warehouse had receded, leaving behind only the familiar, bitter ache of grief.

Jax stood beside me, his own fury from his confrontation with Damian having cooled into a grim, protective stillness. Killian was on my other side, a silent, unwavering pillar of support. We were an island of quiet sorrow in the heart of the storm.

Suddenly, a shrill alarm cut through the room. Not the island's intrusion alert, but a medical one, emanating from the console connected to my father's pod. Red lights flashed across the screen, and a stream of complex bio-data scrolled too quickly to read.

The chief physician from the Vance team, a stern-faced wolfess named Dr. Aris, rushed into the room, her eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and disbelief.

"What is it?" Jax demanded, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the blade he always wore.

"His soul-frequency," Dr. Aris stammered, her professional composure completely gone. "It's… it's surging! The resonance… it's off the charts! It's reaching the threshold for consciousness! I don't understand, the stimulants we've been using are meant to be gradual… this is… this is a miracle!"

She frantically tapped at her console. "He's waking up. By the Goddess, he's actually waking up!"

My heart stopped. Hope, a feeling I had just brutally extinguished within myself, came roaring back with the force of a tidal wave. I surged forward, pressing my hands against the cool glass of the pod, my eyes locked on my father's face.

"Dad?" I whispered, the name a prayer on my lips.

As if hearing my voice across the void, his eyelids fluttered. Then, slowly, painstakingly, for the first time in three long, agonizing years, Marcus Thorne opened his eyes. They were hazy, unfocused, but they were open. He was back.