The Alpha's Biggest Regret

CHAPTER 3: The Locket’s Cold Truth

I left the blue room behind, my bare feet slapping softly against the polished floorboards of the East Wing. I did not run. I kept my posture straight and my chin high, moving through the halls of my own home like a ghost. The sweet, cloying scent of jasmine perfume stuck in the back of my throat, refusing to wash away.

I reached my bedroom and shut the door. The silence of the room wrapped around me, but it offered no comfort. The image of the gold rose locket burned behind my eyelids. Delroy’s grandmother’s locket. The heirloom I had spent a week searching for in the freezing mud, while my mate stood safely under a canopy and lied straight to my face.

My inner wolf paced in tight, frantic circles. She whined, scratching at the walls of my mind, confused by the betrayal of our mate. But I shoved her down. I could not afford to fall apart. Paranoia was a disease, but certainty was a weapon. I needed facts.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a thick wool sweater and heavy dark trousers. I splashed freezing water on my face from the washbasin, letting the cold shock my system into sharp focus. I wiped my face dry. The woman staring back at me in the mirror did not look like a broken Luna. Her silver-gray eyes were cold, clear, and focused.

I stepped out of the room and headed downstairs. The packhouse was busy with the mid-morning rush. I nodded to the Omegas sweeping the grand hall, keeping my expression entirely neutral. I walked toward the back of the estate, intending to check the patrol logs in the main office.

As I passed the open glass doors of the ground-floor terrace, a small voice caught my attention.

"Look."

I stopped. The terrace was hidden from the main path by a thick wall of climbing ivy. I stepped closer to the stone archway, keeping my body concealed behind a large pillar.

Rowan was sitting on the stone bench, bundled in a thick coat. He was holding up a small, carved wooden wolf.

"I see it, pup," a deep, familiar voice rumbled.

Delroy. He had told Beta Bradley he was going straight to the training grounds. Yet here he was, sitting on the terrace in the middle of the morning.

"Daddy, look," Rowan repeated, holding the toy higher.

My chest tightened so fiercely that my ribs ached. My breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen behind the cold stone, waiting for Delroy to correct the boy. I waited for my mate to tell the child to call him Alpha.

Instead, Delroy chuckled. It was a rich, warm sound that he rarely used anymore. "You have to be careful, Rowan. What did your mother and I tell you? When we are in the big house, you must call me Alpha."

"Alpha Daddy," Rowan giggled, climbing onto the bench and throwing his arms around Delroy’s neck.

"Close enough," Delroy murmured softly. He kissed the top of the boy’s dark hair, holding him close.

The ground beneath my boots seemed to vanish. The reality I had built for the last seven years collapsed entirely. Every late night working at the desk. Every extra border patrol. Every sudden diplomatic trip to the human towns where I was left behind to manage the pack. It was all a lie.

I pressed my hand flat against the rough stone pillar to keep my balance. I did not cry. The tears simply refused to come. The deep, crushing sadness that had been weighing on me all morning burned away in an instant, leaving behind a freezing, crystal-clear focus.

I turned my back on the terrace and walked straight toward the front of the estate.

Delroy’s private study was located at the end of the main hallway. The heavy oak door was always shut tight. I reached for the brass handle and turned it. Locked. Only the Alpha and his Beta possessed the key to this room. But I was the Luna. I knew the secrets of this house better than anyone. I knew that Delroy kept a spare key hidden in the corridor for emergencies.

I walked to the tall bookshelf standing ten feet away from the study door. My hands did not shake. I reached up to the third shelf and pulled down a thick, red leather-bound encyclopedia. I opened the hollow cover. The heavy brass key dropped into my palm, cold against my skin.

I returned to the study, sliding the key into the lock. It turned with a heavy, satisfying click. I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind me, locking it again from the inside.

The study smelled intensely of Delroy. Pine needles, rain, and old paper. The scent used to bring me comfort when I brought him hot tea during long winter nights. Now, the smell simply turned my stomach.

I walked directly to his massive mahogany desk and started pulling drawers open.

The top left drawer held patrol schedules and supply requests. The top right contained maps of the territory and sealed letters from neighboring packs. The bottom left was full of empty ink bottles and spare quills.

I grabbed the handle of the bottom right drawer and pulled. It did not budge. Locked.

I knelt on the woven rug, tracing my fingers along the edges of the dark wood. I closed my eyes and flared my wolf senses, taking a slow, deep breath. Beneath the heavy scent of pine and dust, I caught it. Jasmine. The faint, sickly sweet smell of Róise’s perfume clung specifically to the wood of this drawer.

I stood up and scanned the room. An iron letter opener rested near a stack of ledgers on the edge of the desk. I grabbed it.

I wedged the flat edge of the iron opener into the narrow gap above the locked drawer. I pressed down with all my weight, channeling my Lycan strength into my arms. The wood groaned in protest. I shoved harder, twisting the iron.

With a loud, sharp crack, the locking mechanism snapped.

I pulled the drawer open. Inside the dark cavity sat a small, polished teakwood box.

I lifted it out and set it in the center of the desk. It was secured with a small brass padlock. I did not care about hiding my tracks anymore. I grabbed a heavy bronze paperweight shaped like a howling wolf and brought it down hard on the padlock. The cheap metal shattered.

I flipped the lid open.

A stack of letters sat neatly inside, tied together with a dark green silk ribbon. Beside the letters was a folded piece of thick, cream-colored parchment. Resting on top of the pile was a pair of tiny, hand-knitted baby socks.

I pulled the ribbon loose and unfolded the top letter. The handwriting consisted of elegant, flowing loops.

My dearest Delroy,

The nights in the town are too quiet without you. I wear your grandmother's gold rose every day, keeping it hidden beneath my collar just like you asked. It rests right over my heart.

I stared at the ink. The date at the top corner of the page was from two years ago. I set it aside and opened the next one.

Schuyler is leaving for the border tomorrow. He suspects nothing. He thinks the child I carry is his. When the time is right, we will be together. You promised me.

My stomach plummeted. It was not just cheating. Delroy had betrayed his own Beta. He slept with his closest friend's mate and let Schuyler believe the child was his. He allowed a good, loyal man to die on the border believing a lie. The deception was so vile, so thoroughly rotten, it made my skin crawl.

I dropped the letter. I reached for the thick parchment at the bottom of the box and unfolded it.

It was a formal birth record from a private clinic in the human territory.

Mother: Róise Reilly.

Father: Delroy Brooke.

Date of Birth: November 14th.

I traced my finger over the date. November 14th. The exact date Delroy had missed our mating anniversary because he was supposedly handling a severe trade dispute in the human city.

The paper slipped from my fingers, landing softly on the polished wood of the desk.

For seven years, I gave this man everything I had. I skipped meals to ensure the pack was fed during harsh winters. I stood in the freezing rain to resolve disputes between aggressive warriors. I smiled through the painful, quiet nights when he told me I was barren, accepting the total blame for our empty nursery. I let him comfort me. I cried into his chest, apologizing over and over for my broken body.

And he just stroked my hair. He held me while he secretly raised a son with another woman.

My hands clenched into tight fists. My nails bit into my palms so deeply that drops of warm blood welled up, but I did not feel the pain. The grief evaporated completely. What rushed into the empty space was a freezing, protective fury.

My inner wolf stood up, baring her sharp teeth. The loyalty bond—the magical tie that bound my soul to Delroy—snapped. It did not break slowly. It shattered into a thousand pieces, dissolving into nothingness.

I was not going to cry for him. I was not going to beg for his love.

I reached out, gathering the letters into a neat pile. I would take them. I would stand in the center of the grand hall and show the entire pack exactly who their Alpha truly was. I would expose every lie he ever told.

I folded the birth record and shoved it deep into the pocket of my trousers.

Just as my fingers brushed the green ribbon to tie the letters back together, a shadow fell across the mahogany desk.

I froze.

I had been so consumed by the letters that I did not hear the door unlock. I did not hear the heavy footsteps approaching the desk.

"I've been looking for you," a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

I turned my head slowly.

Delroy stood there. His broad frame completely blocked the exit. His blue eyes dropped from my face, scanning the broken padlock, the shattered wood of the drawer, and finally resting on the letters scattered across his desk.

The silence in the study stretched, heavy and dangerous.

Delroy reached behind his back and pushed the heavy oak door until it clicked shut.

"What are you doing, Evie?" he asked, his voice dropping into a dark, terrifyingly calm pitch.

I stood up, holding Róise’s letter tightly in my hand. I looked my Alpha directly in the eye, and for the first time in seven years, I felt absolutely nothing for him.

"I'm reading about your son," I said.