The Alpha's Second Chance

Chapter 11- Regrets

Silas POV

I close the door to Lyras' room with a click that feels heavy, even to my own ears. I stand there for a few moments, my hand lingering on the handle. I want to go back into the room and explain everything to her, that I was reborn, that she is my mate, and that together we can avoid the oncoming disaster. But I fear that instead of pulling her closer, it would push her further away.

At the moment, I am just the man who has barged into her life and pulled her into an unfamiliar place for no real reason.

But in the car, when she mentioned that she had dreamed of me, Fenrir and I could not believe it. How could she have seen the future where we died, unless...

Unless mate was there that day. That could explain why we were able to finally see the truth about Sarah and the bond, as well as why the moon goddess answered our prayer. Fenrir says to me.

Do you think that is possible, buddy? But then why would she have said that it was a nightmare rather than being reborn?

Maybe to mate it was a nightmare; she lived it and was reborn, but the moon goddess did it in the form of a dream. After all, the mate is strong but needs support.

Yeah, the journal is kind of worrying. I do hope that we can help her. I admire the life she has built for herself and how far she has come, but it has also cost her a lot. I hope that over time she can come to rely on us. I say, heaving out a deep sigh.

As I walk down the flight of stairs and reach the bottom floor, I notice that Eli and Jax are waiting for me. They are leaning against the wall, the orange glow from their cigarettes casting a slight light over their hands. They do not speak as I descend the final steps, but they look at me with many questions swirling in their eyes. The main one, most likely being why I brought the girl back with me, although I would have thought that would have been obvious.

"The girl is settled?" Eli asks, his voice a low, gravelly scrape. He straightens up, his eyes tracking the tension in my shoulders.

"She is," I reply, heading toward the decanter of scotch on the sideboard. I pour a glass, the liquid amber catching the dim light of the dying chandelier. "But I find the method of her arrival... worrying."

Jax shifts his weight, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "Worrying, sir? You told us to find intel on her, and then you made an encounter happen. She came back here with you willingly. I do not really see the problem here with the girl. After all, she was what you wanted to acquire, right?"

"She is not an 'acquisition,' Jax," I snap, the ice in my glass clinking sharply as I turn on him. "I looked into her eyes tonight and saw a version of myself I thought I’d never see. I saw a man who takes because he can, not because he should. I saw a man who had to break a girl's world just to bring her into his own."

Eli steps into the light, his scarred brow lifted. "Then why do it? Who is she, Silas? Really? We’ve pulled her records—she’s a ghost. A dropout. A nobody with a jasmine scent and a bank account that wouldn't buy one of your watches. Why does a girl like that warrant a seat at your table? Why did you risk leaving the estate for her? Is she your mate?"

I take a slow sip of the scotch, letting the burn ground me. I look past them, into the dark corners of the hall where the portraits of my ancestors hung—men who had taken what they wanted for three centuries and never apologised for the wreckage they left behind.

"I had a dream once," I say, my voice dropping to a near whisper, barely audible over the ticking of the grandfather clock. "About a past life, and in that life, everything was ruined. All of our hard work, life as we know it, came to an end for us and our kind and all because of my so-called mate. But what made it worse was that the bond turned out to be fake. When I awoke, there was a countdown and a message- I had to find my true mate fast or the last six months lived would be the same as in that life. Only with the arrival of my true mate could the events of the past life be avoided."

I turn my gaze back to the stairs, "The file says that she is a nobody. But the way she carries the trauma of her past and the fire in her eyes, but has yet to turn into a monster... it is admirable and familiar. I believe that she is my mate, but I cannot come out and say it directly as she is a human." I continue to explain.

They both nod their head, understanding dawning on their faces. But I am tired after the past few weeks and just want to go to sleep in my own bed with my mate safely under the same roof. I dismiss them with a sharp flick of my hand and head to my bedroom, the room right beside my sleeping mate.

The guilt of the day and taking Lyra stayed with me as I stripped off my shirt and lay in the dark. I close my eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep, but my mind keeps returning to the room next door. I keep seeing her spilling that coffee—the way she looked so small against me, the way her scent had overwhelmed the smell of the rain and drove Fenrir wild. Her faint smell on me is still driving him wild. Even in our past life, he was never this animalistic towards Sarah.

I am finally drifting off, the edges of my consciousness fraying into grey, when the silence is shattered.

It is not a loud noise, but one that sets the hairs on my arms ablaze and has Fenrir up and tearing to come out. A scream. A pained scream fills my room and ears, making me whimper in shared pain. Through the bond, I can feel Lyras' fright and pain. I am surprised at how clear the feelings are. Humans and werewolves' bonds are known to be a lot weaker until they have completed the bonding and mating, yet her emotions, I can feel as if they are my own.

My bare feet slap against the cold ground as I race from my room to hers.

I throw open the door to her room, the sudden bright light from the ceiling momentarily blinding me. But what breaks me is the sight that meets me once my eyes focus.

There, in the middle of the big bed, lies Lyra. She is thrashing under the covers, her body arching in agony with silent or pained screams coming from her constantly. She is calling for someone, a name I do not recognise, but I notice that she is clawing at the air as if she is fighting invisible flames.

But then her motions change, and so do her screams. They are now replaced with cries for help, begs to be spared and screaming about a wolf in front of her.

She really was there that day. Fenrir mutters.

Really? I ask, horror filling me. Then that would mean that my mate had watched me die in front of her, and then was killed by those two monsters right afterwards. Do you think they knew we were mates? I ask.

I think so. Why would they have bothered killing a human? Fenrir answers sadly.

I come back to focus on Lyra, her movements becoming more irrational, and if she is not careful, then she will be hurt soon.

I move close to her bed, moving around the bed and sitting in the chair near the window, hoping that my presence alone will be enough to calm her.

Fenrir is whimpering at the sight of her, wanting to be released and curl around her to protect her.

"Lyra," I whisper.

She bolts upright, her eyes wide and glassy, staring through me into a past I cannot reach. The fear radiating off her is so thick that I can almost taste it.

I don't leave. I can't. I stay there, a predator that has now turned protector, watching my mate break.