Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 7

POV: Seraphina

The blood roared in my ears, a rushing tide of fury that drowned out everything else. I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just moved.

I stormed through the halls, the encrypted message a toxic glow on my phone's screen, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble floors. I found him in the grand sitting room. He was standing by the fireplace, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, laughing at something Sylvie had said. She was curled on the sofa, looking up at him with adoring eyes. They looked perfectly content, a king and his consort, radiating a warmth that felt like a mockery while my people were bleeding out.

"You!" The word ripped from my throat, raw and accusatory, sharp enough to cut through their cozy atmosphere.

Damian's smile vanished instantly. He turned, his body going rigid, his eyes narrowing into icy slits. "What is the meaning of this, Seraphina? Have you forgotten how to conduct yourself?"

I didn't flinch. I shoved the phone in his face, my hand shaking with a rage so profound it was almost clarifying. "Kael is dying. He's nineteen years old, and he's dying because you wanted to teach my father a lesson about respect."

He glanced at the screen, his expression unreadable, before setting his glass down on the mantel with a deliberate, echoing click. "The actions of an Alpha have consequences. Perhaps your father should have considered the welfare of his warriors before he chose to challenge me with his emotional theatrics."

"Challenge you?" I laughed, a harsh, broken sound that held no humor. "He begged you to save my dignity! He acted like a father protecting his daughter, and in return you act like a monster! You're letting men die, boys die, over your wounded pride!"

Instantly, Damian's entire focus shifted. The cold, ruthless Alpha vanished, replaced by a man filled with tender, urgent concern. He broke eye contact with me as if our conversation was a minor annoyance that had already been dismissed and forgotten.

"Sylvie," he murmured, his voice softening to a velvet purr. He was at her side in a second, his large, strong hand gently taking her arm. "It's alright. Come, let's get you some air."

He began to lead her away, his back to me, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the vast, silent room. He didn't look back. He didn't offer one more word. My rage, my grief, my people's lives—all of it was less important than her perfectly timed, feigned headache.

The cold of the marble floor seemed to seep up through the soles of my feet, chilling me straight to the bone. As they reached the doorway, he shot a final, dismissive glance over his shoulder at me.