Alpha Damon (Sienna) novel Chapter 64

Damon:

The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft beeping of the monitors attached to my father.

This was the only sharing sound that I could hear throughout the past few days. This and his breathing.

For the past few days, this infirmary had been my second home. I had spent hours sitting in this damn chair, watching over him, waiting for any sign that he was going to pull through. Hoping that he would just wake up, that he would get out of this situation, that he would stand strong again as I have always known him.

And finally, he did.

His eyelids fluttered before they slowly opened, revealing the sharp, calculating eyes I had grown up fearing and respecting. He looked around the room for a moment, trying to process what was going on, trying to process the situation that he was in. But I did not care right now. All I cared about was the fact that he had opened his eyes.

A slow exhale left my chest, a weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying lifting slightly. “Father.” I allowed myself to whisper as I voiced out my pain.

His gaze met mine, his expression unreadable before a small, knowing smirk played on his lips. That’s Mark that told me that this was a situation and a reaction that he was satisfied by.

“Where’s your mother?” he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. “I hope that you’ve been taking care of her.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “She’s outside. She’s been worried sick. I’ve done my best to try and take care of her, but you know that she can be a little stubborn sometimes.”

He chuckled, actually chuckled, as if the entire situation was nothing more than an inconvenience. “You act like I died, son.”

I scowled. “You were damn close. Do you know how concerned we all were for your safety?”

He hummed in response, shifting slightly in bed. “I might be getting old, but I’m not weak, Damon.”

The irritation that had been simmering within me for days spiked at his nonchalant attitude. Old, but not weak? The man had been shot. He had been bleeding out on the conference room floor while I barked orders and tried to keep him alive.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my emotions down. There was no use in arguing with him now. There was no use being angry with him now.

The door creaked open, and I turned to see my mother stepping inside. The second she laid eyes on him, whatever anger had been festering in her vanished.

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” she whispered, rushing to his side.

He chuckled again, though this time softer, as she cupped his face, inspecting him like she was making sure he was actually real. To make sure as if he had woken up. She wanted to make sure that this was not a dream.

“You look like hell,” she muttered, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Flattering,” he mused.

She sniffled but quickly wiped at her face, regaining her composure. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Kael. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’ll do my best,” he teased, but his voice was warm. Mother leaned in and connected her lips with his. He smiled into the kiss before she pulled away to rest her forehead against his own.

I watched the exchange in silence, something bitter curling in my gut.

This was what love looked like.

Despite the years, despite the power struggles, my parents were partners. They had always been a team. My father was ruthless, calculating, but he never dismissed my mother’s place beside him. He was always respecting her. Every single word that she said meant something to him. Everything that she told him to do. Everything that the two of them agreed to do together, they were just a team together. It was them against the world.

And she, despite her anger and sometimes suffocating control, had never wavered in her loyalty to him. She was always in love with him, just as he was in love with her.

It wasn’t what she said that made me tense.

It was the way she said it.

The venom in her tone.

The underlying implication that there was something, someone, who shouldn’t be in this pack.

My lips pressed into a thin line.

I already knew she was furious about Sienna still being here.

I already knew she blamed her for what had happened to my father.

But the reminder still settled like a weight on my chest.

I turned away from them, ignoring my father’s knowing stare.

“I need to handle something,” I muttered.

I didn’t wait for a response.

I walked out, leaving my mother to tend to him, and myself to deal with the mess waiting for me outside this infirmary.