Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 31

POV: Seraphina

I didn't sleep. I lay in the wreckage of the bed, the torn silk of my nightgown a cold, damp second skin, and waited for the dawn. My body was a landscape of pain, a dull, throbbing ache in my bones and a deeper, more specific agony that pulsed low in my belly. It wasn't the pain that woke me from the half-conscious stupor I'd fallen into. It was the cramping.

A sharp, vicious twist seized my abdomen, so intense it stole my breath and made my vision swim with black spots. I curled into a tight ball, my hands flying to my stomach, a primal, terrified instinct taking over. The pain was rhythmic, a cruel, tightening fist that would clench, hold me in its grip until I thought I would scream, and then slowly, mockingly, release, only to gather its strength and strike again. This wasn't the pain of bruises or torn muscles. This was a deep, internal alarm, a warning bell of something terribly, terribly wrong.

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I stumbled out of bed, my legs shaking, and made my way to the bathroom, collapsing onto the cold tile floor just as another wave of agonizing cramps hit me. I was plunged into an icy, terrifying certainty. The violence of last night had broken something inside me.

Just then, my burner phone, which I had managed to hide under the mattress, vibrated with a single, sharp buzz. I crawled back to the bed, my movements clumsy and pained, and retrieved it. A new encrypted message. From Jax.

"Dawn approach. Operation is a go. Ready for extraction."

My brother. My rescue. He was coming. In just a few moments, this would all be over. I stared at his message, and all I could think about was the reflection I had seen in the bathroom mirror just a moment ago. A woman with wild, bruised eyes, a split lip, and the unmistakable marks of a brutal assault marring the skin of her neck and arms. The woman in the mirror was a victim, broken and violated.

"Plan compromised. Minor delay. Unforeseen business matter concerning father's assets requires my signature. Critical for post-transfer stability. Give me two days. Will advise."

It was a plausible, professional lie. Jax would understand the logic, even if he hated the delay. He would trust my judgment.

My thumb pressed down on the send button, dispatching the final, necessary lie.