Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother (Seraphina and Damien) novel Chapter 240

Cobblestone 240

Seraphina’s Perspective

Six months had slipped by since I left.

Half a year living alone in this cramped little apartment with its dull beige walls and windows that never quite sealed shut.

Six months spent pretending that everything was okay.

My alarm buzzed, dragging me awake as it did every morning. I reached out, silencing it before the sound could fully register. The bed felt cavernous—too vast and empty—despite having grown accustomed to sleeping alone for these past six months.

The coffee maker had been set to brew automatically. I shuffled to the kitchen, poured a steaming cup, and stared blankly out the window. The world outside seemed just as tired as I felt inside.

This was my reality now.

The cycle was relentless: training facility. Home. Training facility. Home.

Scattered between those routines were the kids—the only bright spots, the only moments that felt genuine.

I sipped my coffee black, having long abandoned cream and sugar. Flavors blurred together; nothing tasted different anymore.

My phone buzzed. A message from Adrian.

**Adrian:** Can you pick us up after school today? Dad has a meeting.

Of course he did.

**Me:** Sure, buddy. I’ll be there at 3.

**Adrian:** Thanks, Mom.

I set the phone down, finished my coffee, and changed into my usual gear—black leggings, a sports bra, and a loose tank top. I tied my hair back, skipping makeup; no one at the facility cared how I looked.

The drive to work was automatic—turn here, stop there, park in my usual spot without thinking.

Jessica greeted me with a wave as I entered. “Morning, boss!”

“Morning.”

“You look tired. Late night?”

“Something like that.”

I wasn’t truly tired. Just… existing. Going through the motions, waiting for some elusive change without even knowing what form it might take.

The female warriors were already warming up in the main hall—stretching, running drills. The sharp sounds of fists striking bags echoed through the room.

This was my sanctuary now. The one place where I felt useful, where I could lose myself in the rhythm of training, fighting, and pushing these women to improve.

“Alright!” I clapped my hands to get their attention. “Let’s start with combinations. Jessica, you’re with Riley. Maya, you’re with Sophie. I want clean technique—no sloppy hits.”

They paired off immediately, moving fluidly—punching, blocking.

I circled among them, correcting stances, pointing out flaws, urging them harder when they slackened.

“Sophie, your guard is dropping! Keep it up!”

“Maya, you’re telegraphing again—I can see that punch coming from a mile away!”

This was something I could do. It made sense. Clear rules. Clear goals. No tangled emotions, no fractured marriages, no husbands who might have betrayed me.

The morning slipped away in drills and techniques.

By lunchtime, everyone was spent—sweaty, breathing heavily.

“Good work today,” I told them. “Take an hour. Then we’ll move on to ground work.”

They scattered—some to the cafeteria, others outside for fresh air.

I stayed behind, heading to the heavy bag in the corner. I began hitting it.

Left hook. Right cross. Left hook. Right cross.

The steady rhythm soothed me—mindless motion, impact, the burn in my muscles.

I didn’t notice him come in.

“You’re pulling your punches.”

Damien’s voice stopped me mid-swing.

I turned slowly.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching with those blue eyes that once made my heart race. Now, they only made me weary.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was flat.

“Lucas said you’ve been training alone at lunch. Thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re pulling your punches,” he repeated, stepping closer. “Your form’s good, but you’re not committing. It’s like you’re scared to actually hit something.”

I faced the bag again. “I know how to hit things, Damien.”

“I know you do. I’ve seen you fight. But right now? You’re just going through the motions.”

“So?”

“So…” He moved beside me, too close. “That’s how people get hurt—when they stop caring, when they stop focusing.”

“Maybe I don’t care anymore.”

The words hung between us, heavy and true.

He was silent for a long moment, then said, “The kids miss you.”

“I see them three times a week.”

“They want you home.”

“I am home.” I hit the bag harder. “This is my home now.”

“I heard Emma left.” I shifted the topic. “That she’s gone. Disappeared.”

He nodded stiffly. “She requested extended leave.”

“Did you pay her off?” I asked, voice sharp. “Like you wanted to?”

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She left before I could do anything. Just vanished. Nobody knows where she went.”

“Convenient.”

“Sera, I swear I had nothing to do with it. She just… left.”

I studied his face, searching for lies, any sign he was hiding something.

All I saw was exhaustion—and something that looked like genuine confusion.

“Okay,” I said at last.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I believe you. About that part, at least.”

Relief softened his features. “Thank you.”

We stood in awkward silence, the weight of six months pressing down on us.

“The kids want us to have dinner together,” he said quietly. “This Friday. All four of us.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “One movie.”

Lily squealed with delight. Adrian smiled—a small victory.

The movie was some bright, animated thing with happy songs and a simple story where everything worked out in the end.

Lily fell asleep halfway through, curled up between Damien and me on the couch.

Adrian made it to the end—barely.

“Bedtime,” Damien said softly. “Come on, guys.”

“I should go,” I began, standing up.

“Stay.” His hand caught mine for a brief moment. “Please. Help me put them to bed?”

I looked down at our joined hands, then up at his hopeful face.

“Okay.”

Together, we carried the kids upstairs—Lily to her room, Adrian to his.

I tucked Lily in, smoothing her hair and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Love you, Mama,” she mumbled, already half-asleep.

“Love you too, baby.”

Adrian was already in bed when I checked on him, reading as usual.

“Night, Mom.”

“Night, buddy.” I kissed the top of his head. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I closed his door softly and turned around.

Damien stood in the hallway, watching me.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For tonight. For trying.”

“It was for them. Not for you.”

“I know.” He stepped closer. “But still. Thank you.”

We stood there—too close, too familiar. The space between us charged with all the things we weren’t saying.

“I should go,” I said.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early.

I needed to burn off the frustration, the confusion.

The tangled emotions I couldn’t untangle.

But when I stepped into the main hall, something was different.

All the female trainees were gathered near the equipment room, chatting and laughing, their faces glowing with excitement.

I watched them for a moment, their energy contagious—happy, light.

Whatever they were discussing was clearly good news—the kind that made people smile.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I walked over, smiling at the group.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “What did I miss?”