Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 56

POV: Seraphina

The next phase of my torture was a silent, daily ritual. Every evening, just as the sun began to set, the lock on my door would click open, and Damian would enter. He wouldn't touch me. He wouldn't shout. He would simply pull a chair to the center of the room, sit, and begin his report.

"The grain reserves in the Thorne territories are down to a three-week supply," he'd say, his voice a casual, conversational monotone that was more chilling than any roar. He'd watch my face, his eyes searching for a flicker of pain, a crack in my composure. "One of your father's border patrols was ambushed by rogues last night. Without the silver-infused healing herbs from the alliance, two of the warriors died from their wounds. One of them was very young, I hear."

He would detail the suffering of my people with a cruel, detached precision. He spoke of food shortages in the lower villages, of the rising dissent among my father's vassals, of the slow, grinding starvation of a proud pack brought to its knees. He was trying to flay me with the suffering of others, to force me to break under the weight of my guilt.

When the reports failed to elicit the tears he craved, he brought in a new weapon: our son.

But every time the pain threatened to overwhelm me, every time a sob rose in my throat, I felt it. The low, guttural growl deep within my consciousness. It was my wolf. She was awake now, a creature of pure, incandescent rage. Her fury met my despair, transforming it into a diamond-hard resolve. She was the anchor in my storm, the iron in my spine.

So I would meet Damian's gaze, my eyes cold and empty. I would listen to my son's poisoned words and feel nothing but a chilling pity. My refusal to break, my dead, silent calm, was a constant, maddening puzzle to him. I could see the frustration building behind his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. My endurance was becoming his torture.