Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Chapter 32: Chapter 32 - All you do is create chaos and destruction

A young boy, no more than six was thrashing violently in the backseat of a sleek black sedan, his small body bucking against the leather as though the car itself were his enemy.

His face was flushed a deep, painful red, tears soaking his lashes and streaking down his cheeks unchecked.

Tiny fists slammed against the seat, against the door, anywhere they could reach, his screams raw and desperate, echoing through the underground garage with a panic that clawed at the chest.

A woman stood frozen by the open door. She was dressed in immaculate designer clothes, tailored, flawless, expensive, but her composure had completely unraveled.

Her hands shook as she hovered uselessly, whispering pleas that went unheard, her face drawn tight with exhaustion and fear. Seraphine did not hesitate.

She moved instantly, her heels striking the concrete as she rushed forward, every instinct honed by years of crisis response snapping into place. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm and steady, low, controlled, grounding. ”Is he injured?”

The woman shook her head quickly and lowered her sunglasses, revealing eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights and endless tears. ”No... no. He has a neurologic condition, a brain injury which causes these episodes.”

Her voice cracked. ”There’s no cure. He screams until he exhausts himself, and nothing I do helps, nothing.”

Seraphine’s chest tightened, a familiar ache blooming beneath her ribs, but training overrode emotion. She crouched beside the boy, careful not to crowd him, her presence deliberate and assured.

She spoke softly, not to silence him but to reach him, her words slow, rhythmic, paired with measured breathing meant to give his frantic body something else to follow.

Her hands moved with practiced precision, applying gentle pressure at calming points, guiding sensation, redirecting focus away from the storm raging inside his mind. She did not restrain him, just anchoring him.

Gradually, the screaming faltered, and the boy’s fists loosened, fingers trembling before finally unclenching.

His body sagged against the seat, breaths coming in broken hiccups, then slowly, miraculously, beginning to even out. The panic ebbed, leaving behind exhaustion and fragile quiet.

The woman stared in stunned disbelief. ”How... how did you do that?”

Seraphine reached into her bag and pulled out a notepad. She wrote swiftly, efficiently, her pen scratching with purpose. ”I can’t prescribe directly,” she said, her tone firm but gentle, ”but take this list to his pediatrician.

These are management options, sensory regulation therapies, behavioral protocols, adjunct medications. They won’t cure the condition, but they can reduce the agitation and frequency of episodes.” She tore the page free and handed it over.

The woman accepted it like a lifeline, fingers trembling as though afraid it might vanish. Her carefully constructed composure finally shattered. ”Thank you,” she whispered, tears spilling freely now. ”You don’t know what this means.”

Seraphine gave a small nod, her gaze lingering on the boy, now quiet, his storm temporarily stilled. Then she stepped back, allowing the mother to close the car door, restoring a fragile sense of safety.

Corvine had watched everything in silence, a faint smile curving his lips, not of amusement, but recognition. This was Seraphine. He had seen her do this countless times over lifetimes in years, most of them children including Bryan.

The smile faded as the memory of her lost child struck hard, uninvited, and cruel. If only he had not hated her then. If only he had chosen differently, he might have found another way.

By the time realization fully settled in his chest, Seraphine was already walking away. He followed, careful to keep his distance.

The moment Seraphine stepped into Ashkael Holdings, she felt disoriented. It was her first time inside the tower, and the sheer scale of it was overwhelming.

The building rose like a monolith of power, glass and steel cutting into the Manhattan skyline.

It was the tallest tower around, and everyone inside seemed to move with purpose. Men and women in tailored suits walked briskly, phones pressed to ears, eyes forward, lives dictated by schedules and ambition.

She spotted the reception desk and approached without hesitation. ”I’m here to see Voren Ashkael.”

The receptionist, barely older than a teenager froze. Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at Seraphine, clearly shocked by how casually the name had been spoken. Still, professionalism won out. ”Ninetieth floor,” she said after a beat. ”Speak to his secretary.”

”Thank you,” Seraphine replied, already moving.

She slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. Five other occupants stood inside, silent and rigid. Corvine stepped in at the last second, squeezing in unobtrusively, careful not to draw attention, not speaking a word.

When the doors opened on the ninetieth floor, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The chaos of the lower levels vanished, replaced by quiet control and muted authority.

A woman in business attire, glasses perched neatly on her nose, looked up and smiled politely.

”How may I help you, ma’am?”

”Voren Ashkael,” Seraphine said evenly. ”Tell him Seraphine Walker is here.”

The secretary stared at her as though she’d grown a second head. She checked her tablet quickly. ”I just reviewed his schedule, and you don’t have an appointment.”

”Tell him anyway,” Seraphine said, her voice sharp with resolve. The secretary hesitated, wanted to refuse, but something in Seraphine’s posture, her unflinching gaze, unsettled her.

With visible reluctance, she pressed the intercom. ”Okay... yes... fine,” she murmured before cutting the line.

Moments later, she looked back up. ”I’m sorry. He says he doesn’t have any business with you.”

Seraphine went still, her mind raced, calculating consequences. The space was too controlled for chaos, too public.

This wasn’t pack territory, but rather the city. One wrong move and law enforcement would be involved. ”Alright,” she said coolly. ”I’ll wait until he comes out.”

The secretary considered telling her that Voren was in a long meeting and wouldn’t emerge anytime soon but decided instead to let the woman wear herself out.

Seraphine sat on one of the visitor couches. Corvine joined her quietly, taking her hand in his, grounding her without a word. Afraid to say anything that might ignite the fury simmering beneath her calm exterior, he remained silent.

An hour passed, then a door opened. A man exited Voren’s office, followed by the unmistakable sound of Voren Ashkael’s voice. ”We’ll meet at the Sovereign Circle.”

Seraphine rose instantly, crossing the space in long, purposeful strides and stopped directly in behind him. ”Voren Ashkael,” she said, her voice slicing through the air, ”how do you sleep at night knowing all you do is create chaos and destruction?”

The entire floor froze, conversations died, and movement ceased. Every gaze locked onto Seraphine as the silence thickened, heavy and electric, while they waited to see how Voren Ashkael would respond to the woman bold enough to challenge him in his own domain.