Alpha's Regret: Claiming My Stolen Twins

Seraphina’s POV

Days dragged by like chains around my ankles. Each morning brought the same suffocating weight, the same empty conversations, the same careful dance of avoidance.

My mother faced me in our usual training spot, deep in the forest where no one could witness my growing abilities. The lessons had become a lifeline, the only time I felt anything resembling control.

These powers weren’t simple wolf traits. They reached beyond healing wounds or enhanced senses. I could bend the wind to my will, shift objects without touching them, accomplish things that should have been impossible.

"Focus, Seraphina. Let the energy flow outward. Stop holding back," my mother instructed.

I concentrated and felt the familiar rush as wind whipped around me, creating a protective barrier. My hands began to glow with that strange pale light, cold as winter air, beautiful and terrible at once.

This strength belonged to me. This power made me whole in ways nothing else could.

Yet beneath the surface, everything crumbled.

Julian and I had perfected the art of mutual invisibility. When I entered a room, he found urgent business elsewhere. If I spotted him in the hallway, I turned and walked the opposite direction. We moved through our shared life like strangers, our silence heavy with unspoken accusations.

Elena and Theo suffered the most. Their innocent questions cut deeper than any blade. "Mama, why does daddy eat all his meals at work now?" "Did you and daddy have a fight?" "When is he coming home to sleep in your room?"

I crafted elaborate lies about Alpha responsibilities and important pack business, but children see through adult deceptions. They absorbed our tension, their worried glances following me around the house. Julian still spent time with them each afternoon, reading stories and playing games, but even those moments felt strained. The children watched us both with anxious eyes, sensing the fracture we tried to hide.

My heart broke knowing they were casualties in our war, but facing Julian felt impossible.

Sunset filtered through the trees, marking the end of another training session. I sank onto a fallen log, muscles aching from exertion, that intoxicating power still buzzing beneath my skin.

My mother settled beside me, adjusting her clothes with nervous fingers. She studied the forest floor instead of meeting my gaze.

"Seraphina," she began quietly. "I need to apologize."

My spine went rigid. Not this again.

"Stop," I snapped, shooting to my feet. The energy crackling through me made everything feel sharp and dangerous. "Don’t start with the apologies. I’m done rehashing ancient history."

She looked up, startled, then heartbroken. "That’s not what I meant."

A shuddering breath escaped her. "Julian came to us. He explained what happened. About your pregnancy."

"What?" The word barely escaped my throat.

"He told the pack leadership, Seraphina. About the baby you lost. He’s devastated. He asked us to give you space, but he felt the circumstances needed explaining. I’m sorry you endured that pain alone."

Understanding crashed over me like ice water.

The sympathetic glances from pack members. The gentle touches from older women. The forced kindness everywhere I went. They weren’t seeing their Luna anymore. They were seeing a broken woman, a tragedy to pity.

Rage erupted inside me, pure and consuming.

"He told them?" My voice came out deadly calm. "He shared my private devastation with everyone? My grief is now gossip for the entire pack?"

He had stripped me naked emotionally. He had taken my most sacred wound and made it public knowledge, probably to gain sympathy as the patient Alpha dealing with his unstable mate.

I despised him. The hatred burned so bright it nearly blinded me. This was my story to tell, my pain to share when I chose. Not his tool for managing pack politics.

"I don’t want to hear another word," I hissed, turning away. "This conversation is over."

My mother rushed forward, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Seraphina, please listen. Keeping all this anger inside will destroy you. It will ruin everything you still have."

Laughter erupted from me, harsh and bitter. I whirled to face her, my eyes probably blazing with that strange light.

"Everything is already ruined," I spat. "And you know what? I’m fine with that. The woman who got destroyed, who lost her child before ever holding them, she’s gone forever."

I stepped closer, challenging her to contradict me.

"That woman was pathetic. She forgave everyone who hurt her, abandoned her, betrayed her trust. She kept getting wounded because she never learned to stop giving second chances."

My chest heaved with the force of this revelation, this cold certainty about who I had become.

"This woman," I pressed a glowing finger against my sternum, "doesn’t forgive. Ever. She refuses to be weak, and she will never be hurt again."

My mother reached for me again, tears streaming down her face. "Seraphina, don’t say that. You need to let yourself heal—"

"No," I cut her off ruthlessly. "Your job is teaching me to control these abilities. Nothing more. Don’t pretend to be mother of the year now, because you failed at motherhood then and you’ll never be my mother now."

The words hit their target perfectly.

"Focus on magical training and leave the life advice to someone qualified. If I survived all the pain you caused me as a child, you can certainly handle some honest words now."

I watched the hurt spread across her features, saw the genuine anguish flood her eyes, witnessed the raw wound my words opened.

And I felt nothing. Not guilt, not regret, not even satisfaction.

It was terrifying and liberating at once. She had made me cry endless tears. Now it was her turn.

I stormed from the clearing, leaving my mother alone with her grief.

I needed air and purpose. Something productive to channel this energy.

The main pack house had been converted partially to shelter the Zenith Fang survivors. These women had lost everything—mates, children, entire worlds. They needed comfort, not chaos.

I forced myself to calm down before entering, wiping fury from my expression. They deserved my strength, not my breakdown.

The common room felt heavy with quiet desperation. Several women sat together without speaking, staring at nothing. Their physical wounds had healed, but their emotional devastation was bottomless.

I moved between them, offering what little I could.

"How are you managing today?" I asked Sofia, whose mate died protecting her escape.

She could only shake her head wordlessly.

"The pack is here for you," I told the group. "Whatever resources you need, whatever support helps you heal. You’re safe now."

I discussed counseling options, small daily goals, the importance of finding hope in darkness. I tried to sound like a beacon of light, but inside I felt like a complete fraud.

How could I encourage hope when mine lay buried? How could I offer comfort when my defining characteristic had become cold, unforgiving hatred?

I stayed until full darkness fell, exhausted from pretending to be whole.

Finally, I dragged myself toward the house I shared—used to share—with Julian and the children. Lights glowed warm through the windows. I could hear muffled children’s laughter.

I pushed through the front door, ready to paste on a tired smile for Elena and Theo, prepared for another evening of Julian’s conspicuous absence.

But when I stepped into the living room, I froze completely. My breath caught in my throat.

Two people sat there who I never expected to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.

Seeing them shattered every defense I had built. It meant I could stop being the strong Luna. I could stop being the unforgiving wolf. I could just be Seraphina again.

The anger I had cultivated for days crumbled instantly. My cold mask dissolved completely.

"Oh, God," was all I managed.

Ma looked up, her expression shifting from gentle amusement with the children to fierce maternal concern. She stood immediately.

Before either could speak, I dropped my bag and ran. I threw myself into Pa’s arms while Ma wrapped us both in her embrace.

And I shattered.

Not just tears, but complete breakdown. Deep, wrenching sobs that tore my throat raw. A week of stored pain, betrayal, and exhaustion poured out like a dam bursting.

I clung to their familiar warmth and scent, my only safe harbor in this storm. I cried for the baby I lost, the marriage that died, and the innocent woman I would never be again.