Hiding the Alpha's Twins: His Wolfless Luna
Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Dominic’s POV

“What does that even matter? I’m unlucky enough to be marrying Samantha as it is.”

The words echoed in my mind, sharper now than the day I had spoken them on our wedding day, and I saw the broken look in her eyes, the way her shoulders had slumped as though carrying a weight too heavy to bear. I had been too blind to see it then, or I just did not care. I was too consumed by my own bitterness and resentment to realize that I had been the one breaking her.

I ran through the woods as the cool night air whipped against my face. The revelation of my children’s existence surged through me like a storm, leaving me breathless, and excited, but at the same time, the regret was consuming me like a fire determined to turn me into ashes. Devon and Diana were mine. Mine. And yet, Samantha had kept them from me, hiding their existence for six years. But I understood, or perhaps, I wanted to because I knew that I had done her wrong, but I also thought that I had the right to know, and the twins had to right to know who their father was. Did she tell them that their father was dead? Had they been seeing Killian as their father figure already?

I told myself I was furious at her deception, but the truth gnawed at me from the inside out. The anger was only a mask for what lay beneath, regret, shame, and a pang of festering guilt that I had tried to bury for far too long.

By the time I reached the manor, my legs were shaking, but my thoughts refused to settle. The house stood silent in the darkness with its windows gleaming faintly in the moonlight. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of wood polish and lingering embers doing little to calm the chaos in my head.

Dropping onto the couch in the dimly lit living room, I buried my face in my hands. The truth was undeniable now.

Samantha had stolen six years of their lives from me, and yet... I had driven her to it, hadn’t I?

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling as memories clawed their way to the surface.

The day we married had been a day of duty, not love. My mother had orchestrated it, seeing Samantha as the perfect Luna for our pack. I had not disagreed outright, but neither had I embraced the idea. She had been so young, so in love with me, and so eager to prove herself, and I had barely looked at her.

After the ceremony, I had thrown myself into my responsibilities as Alpha, convincing myself that my indifference toward her did not matter. I had been cold, dismissive, treating her as nothing more than a figurehead for the pack. I remembered the way she had tried, time and time again, to connect with me, bringing me meals to my office, asking about my day, tending to my wounds, and even suggesting plans to strengthen the pack.

And how had I responded? With silence. With excuses. With outright dismissal.

I closed my eyes and felt the weight of my failures pressing down on me. I could still see her face the night I had come home late from a pack meeting, reeking of alcohol and exhaustion. She had been waiting in the living room with her eyes red from crying.

"Do you even care, Dominic?" she had asked with a trembling voice. "Do you even care about this marriage, about us? Or am I just another obligation to you?"

I had not answered her. Instead, I had brushed past her, mumbling something about being tired. I had heard her muffled sobs as I climbed the stairs, but I had not stopped.

And then there was Olivia.

Olivia had always been there, lingering on the edges, offering sly smiles and subtle touches. Samantha had seen it, of course she had. She had confronted me about it once, or twice, multiple times, her voice shaking with anger and hurt, but I had dismissed her accusations, telling her she was being paranoid.

That had been the final straw, hadn’t it?

The next morning, she was gone.

I rubbed my temples, the ache in my chest growing stronger with each passing moment. I had failed her as a husband, as a mate. And now I had failed my children without even knowing it.

Devon and Diana.

I could not stop picturing them, the way Devon had shielded his sister during that council meeting, the way Diana had smiled up at me with those mischievous eyes that were so much like my own. How had I not seen it sooner?

But even as I burned with the desire to claim them as mine, fear clawed at the edges of my resolve. What if Samantha had poisoned them against me? What if they saw me as the monster she had fled from?

I could not lose them. Not now.

The first rays of dawn were creeping through the windows when I finally pulled out my phone. My hands shook as I dialed her number with each ring tightening the knot in my stomach. I had to talk to her. I needed to.

When she answered, her voice was cautious, guarded, and groggy, I might have woken her up from sleep. “Dominic?”

“I know the truth,” I uttered immediately without beating anymore around the bush. “About the twins. About us. We need to talk, Samantha.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought she might hang up. But then she spoke, with her voice barely above a whisper as I heard in the background how she shifted perhaps on her bed. “Where?”

“Somewhere private,” I said. “I don’t want the children involved. Not yet.”

Another pause, then, “Fine. Tell me where and when.”

I exhaled, relief and anxiety battling for dominance. “I’ll visit, tomorrow at noon.”

“Okay,” she replied softly, and the line went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand with my heart pounding. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Six years had been too long, and I had lost so much already, but I was not going to lose them. Not my children. Not my family.

No matter what it took, I would make this right.