The Wolfless Luna's Revenge: Returning With His Secret Twins Chapter 25

Dominic’s POV

The phone rang three tis before Liam picked up.

"Alpha," he uttered. He knew better than to expect a casual conversation when I called.

"I need answers, Liam," I said, pacing the length of my office. My mind felt like it was tearing itself apart with a tangle of suspicion, mories, and unanswered questions. "Did you find anything about the twins yet? Who their father is?"

A pause. Too long. And it ticked my nerves.

“We’re digging, Alpha," Liam replied. "Killian’s pack records are airtight. No ntion of the twins in any formal capacity. It is like they do not exist on paper."

I slamd my hand down on the desk and the sharp sound echoed through the room. "That’s not good enough, search the hospitals in his area, Liam. I need every single piece of information about them."

Liam sighed on the other end. "I’ll see what more we can do, Alpha. But Killian’s pack is notoriously private. You know that."

My jaw tightened. I did not care how private Killian was. I needed to know the truth.

"I do not want excuses," I snapped. "I want results. Check every pack within a hundred-mile radius if you have to. Soone knows sothing."

"Yes, Alpha," Liam replied before the line went dead.

The silence that followed was suffocating, choking with anxiety. I dropped the phone onto the desk and pressed the heels of my hands against my temples, trying to silence the thoughts in my head. Ever since I t the twins, they had never left my mind anymore. Their cute bubbly faces, the little girl reminded of Samantha’s soft features, and the boy... Damn it, I did not even have the chance to know their nas. I should be ignoring all these, because why would I bother? Those kids were probably another man’s blood. But... They may have their mother’s eyes, but the boy’s features gave it away. I might be crazy to say that I resembled him.

I took a gulp

I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dug into my palms as I leaned behind the desk and stared at the marble floor.

It was not possible. It couldn’t be. Samantha had left. Run away without a word...

After the wedding, I thought I had her figured out. I thought she was soone who would not dare to leave . But she did.

She had wrapped around her fingers, playing the dutiful mate while secretly scheming her escape. And when she did run, I told myself it was for the best. That she was not worthy of my ti, my anger, my care.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?

Six years and I thought I was over her.

But I was wrong.

I sat heavily in the swivel chair, leaning back as mories of her flooded my mind. Samantha, with her fiery spirit and that damn stubborn streak that made want to either throttle her or kiss her senseless.

Kissing her.

The thought sent a jolt of desire, and jealousy at the thought of her being with another man in than span of six years that she vanished. I slamd my fist against the armrest, as if I could punch the feeling away. But it clung to , unforgiving, reminding how I treated her in the past years when she was crawling her way to , craving every second of my attention. Did I waste it all?

I hated her for running. For making feel like this. For leaving to stew in anger and regret.

But then, regret wasn’t new.

I rembered the day I realized she was gone, I ca to an empty house with only her scent fading in the air. My rage had been all-consuming, like a wildfire that burned through everything else. I wanted to tear the world apart until I found her. But I didn’t.

I told myself she did not deserve to be found, so I entertained myself, drowning in liquor and duties, taking my mind off the wife who ran away from .

And now, six years later, she’d co back into my life like a storm, bringing chaos and questions I was not ready to face.

The twins’ faces swam before my eyes again, and the rage simring beneath my skin boiled over.

I stood, unable to sit still any longer. Crossing the room in a few strides, I threw open the liquor cabinet and poured a generous asure of whiskey. The burn as it slid down my throat did little to dull the ache in my chest.

If those children were mine...

The thought sent a shockwave through , equal parts terror and longing. I did not want it to be true. And yet, the idea of them being soone else’s made my blood run cold.

A knock at the door snapped out of my spiraling thoughts.

"Co in," I barked.

The door opened, and Liam stepped in. "I thought you might want to hear this in person."

I gestured for him to continue as my patience was wearing thin.

"There were rumors," he said, and even though I did not want rumors, if not facts, I would not have entertained it. But if it was about the twins, I would take whatever it was. "Killian’s been extra protective of Samantha and the twins. It’s like it is his duty to do so."

"Of course," I muttered, pacing again. "That bastard always had a soft spot for her."

"Alpha," Liam hesitated, "we cannot rule out either that he might be the father—"

I cut him off, "No. It cannot be," I firmly said, my veins throbbing in fury at the thought. But thinking about it rationally, he can’t be. I saw how the twins interacted with him, they did not call him ‘dad’ the way they called their mommy.

"He had been with the twins since they were born, actually since Samantha was still pregnant. He was there for her, like he was the father of her children," Liam added still and I shook my head, in denial of that fact.

He may have been with her, but... he wasn’t still the father, even if he took them as his. They were still not his blood.

"Keep digging," I ordered. "Find out who the real father of the twins."

Liam nodded and left without another word, closing the door softly behind him.

Alone again, I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding. My mind returned to Samantha, unbidden.

I hated her.

I missed her.

I wanted her.

The truth was a double-edged sword, cutting no matter which side I fell on. If the twins were not mine, it ant Samantha had moved on, given her heart — and her body — to soone else. The thought made my stomach twist.

But if they were mine...

I downed another glass of whiskey, the burn doing little to soothe the rage inside. If they were mine, then Samantha had kept them from . She’d hidden my children and denied the chance to be their father.

And I didn’t know which betrayal hurt more.