The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm novel Chapter 99

Chapter 99: 099: Where was she?

~ ROSELLE ~

A few minutes after Ronan leaves for work, Irina walks into the room. Her light blue eyes narrow on me as she gives a slight bow, setting her medical bag on the table.

My mind hasn’t stopped replaying what Ronan said about killing Lycans. There’s no way I can sleep or rest. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is someone aiming a dagger at my chest. Or Ronan waking me up, yelling, "Hey, I know your secret." Then, in that soft tone of his, he looks deep into my eyes and says—and I quote—"As much as I love you, you’re a Lycan. Keeping you would mean betraying my people. Therefore... I have to kill you."

Fucking hell. My imagination is trying to kill me before Ronan ever gets the chance.

"How are you doing?" she asks, her voice gentle but professional. "Ronan called for me."

I nod, my throat tight.

"I’m... fine." I shake my head almost immediately. "No. I’m not. I’m far from fine. I’ve spent the last two days trying to bottle up a secret I don’t even know is true. I can’t sleep peacefully knowing I just found out I might be the very monster my husband-to-be is hunting. And... I’m living with him. I’m..." I let out a shaky breath. "You have no idea what that’s like, do you? I’m far from fine."

Irina shakes her head as she rises from the sofa.

"I know what it’s like, Rose. I know... we’re both carrying the same secret. I work with wolves every single day, and I’ve spent every second of my life being careful—making sure they never discover what I really am."

I scoff, my eyes narrowing at her for a moment before I look away. My gaze drifts to the ceiling as I rake both hands through my hair, desperate to claw it all out... desperate to wake up from this fucking nightmare. Any second now, someone would jump out and tell me, "Hey... it was all just a nightmare."

I sit there in silence for a while before she settles into the seat across from me. My thoughts race in every direction, trying to make sense of the truth.

I stand from my seat, letting out a shaky breath.

"I need you to run whatever lab tests you did again, Irina. Because I’m not a Lycan. I can’t be a Lycan. My father is the Alpha of the Westbrook Pack, and my mother, though she’s..."

"Dead," she finishes, stealing the breath from my lungs.

How did she know that? I stare at her, her blue eyes meeting mine with a strange mixture of sadness and resolve.

"How did you know?"

"Because your mother was a Lycan," she says quietly. "She fell in love with your father... and together, they had you. That makes you a hybrid, but Lycan genes are naturally dominant. Which means... you’re a Lycan."

My heart slams against my ribs.

"And somehow, in an attempt to protect you, they had your wolf suppressed."

My eyes widen as I remember the question I’d asked her before.

"You wanted to know the name of the chemical they used," Irina continues. "It’s called Lupraxin. A synthetic serum developed by Lycan scientists to inhibit the wolf’s neural pathways, leaving the human side in control. It’s rarely used because the effects don’t last forever."

She pauses, her gaze locking onto mine.

"Now your Lycan side is fighting against it. The serum is wearing off... and your wolf is trying to break free."

I feel my throat go dry. "And... how do you know all of this?" My voice comes out in a stutter.

Irina is silent for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper, she says, "Because... I’m your mother."

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

For a heartbeat, the world stops. I could believe anything, that the sky had fallen to the ground, that the moon had disappeared, but never, not in a million years, would I believe what Irina had just said.

"No..." I whisper, shaking my head. "No..."

My breathing turns ragged as I stumble back a step.

"My mother is dead. She... she died giving birth to me. That’s what I’ve been told my entire life."

Irina’s eyes glisten with pain. "I know that’s what you were told," she says softly. "But it isn’t the truth."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"By the Goddess... first, I’m a Lycan. Then you’re a Lycan too. You somehow know everything about me. And now..." I shake my head in disbelief. "Now you’re my what? My mother?"

Every thought is fuel for the fire—Warren’s cruelty, my father’s death, the years of isolation, and now this revelation that my mother was alive all along.

Where was she? My vision blurs red. My skin feels like it’s splitting. I try to fight it, try to push the transformation back down, but it’s too strong.

I lunge toward Irina without consciously deciding to, and she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she reaches into her medical bag with steady hands and pulls out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

"I’m sorry," she whispers, and then she drives the needle into my arm.

The world goes fuzzy almost immediately.

The burning sensation doesn’t completely disappear, but it recedes, like fire being doused with water. My bones stop rattling. My claws retract. The rage doesn’t vanish, but it becomes something I can contain, something that doesn’t threaten to explode out of my skin.

I feel weak. Devastatingly, bone-deep weak.

Irina guides me to the bed, and I collapse onto it like a puppet with cut strings. My body is shaking so violently I can barely breathe. I’m cold—so achingly, desperately cold that it feels like someone has submerged me in ice water.

I’m shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering, my muscles clenching and unclenching as my body tries to regulate itself.

The injection has stopped the transformation, but the aftereffects are almost worse than the transformation itself.

I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my middle, trying to generate warmth that won’t come.

Irina sits on the edge of the bed, her hand hovering near me like she wants to touch me but doesn’t dare.

"I know you’re angry," she says softly. "I know you have questions. I will explain everything, Roselle. But right now, you need to rest. Your body has been through a shock."

I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can do is shake and shiver and try to process the impossibility of it all.

The door suddenenly bursts open. Ronan stands in the threshold, and I can see the moment his expression changes from composed to absolutely feral. His grey eyes take in the scene in seconds: me, shaking and curled on the bed. Irina, sitting beside me with her medical bag open. The syringe on the nightstand.

"What the fuck is happening here?" His voice is deadly calm, which somehow makes it more terrifying than if he’d shouted.