Alpha's Regret After She Kneels

A knot tightens in my throat.

What's happeneign to me? To him?

"Forget it,” I say, forcing the connection closed, severing the brief glimpse of his turmoil. "It doesn't change anything."

Rairity watches me carefully, her expression unreadable, but she doesn't press.

We move through the final preparations, focusing on the task at hand. I force myself to stay rooted in the present, to push thoughts of Raiden and whatever mess he's tangled in with Lila out of my mind.

Windhowl needs me. And I won't let them down.

I am their Alpha and I intend to act as such.

By the time the opening ceremony begins, I've managed to bury the emotions simmering beneath the surface.

I stand tall among my pack, the weight of leadership settling comfortably on my shoulders. The other packs are gathered, their leaders flanking Raiden as he takes his place at the head of the assembly.

I don't look at him.

Not at first.

But I feel his presence like a shadow at my back-familiar, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore. And then, just as the ceremony begins, I feel it again. The bond, weak and frayed as it is, pulses faintly, drawing my attention to him.

My resolve weakens for a fraction of a second, and when I finally allow myself to glance his way, my breath catches.

Raiden's eyes are already on me.

Midnight dark, filled with something I can't decipher.

But there's a weight there—a heaviness that wasn't there before.

What have you done? Is this bond so easily severed Raiden?

Before I can look away, he moves.

He strides across the distance between us with purpose, his expression unreadable.

My heart pounds harder with every step he takes, but I force myself to remain still, to meet his gaze without flinching.

"Siena," he says, his voice lower than usual, rough around the edges. "I need a word."

I should refuse.

He's broken his scared oath to me. He deserves no mercy.

I should walk away. But something in his tone—something raw and unguarded— keeps me rooted to the spot.

"Fine," I reply, my voice cool, controlled. I follow him away from the crowd, toward a secluded alcove where the noise of the ceremony fades to a distant murmur. With every step I know the subjects of our kingdom are watching.

Always watching.

The silence between us stretches taut, thick with unspoken words. I refuse to be the first to break it.

"I need to ask you something," he says finally, and there's... uncertainty in his tone. Raiden doesn't do uncertainty.

I fold my arms, keeping my posture guarded. "What is it?"

For a moment, I think he might back down. But then he speaks, and the words stun me into silence.

"Have you ever felt that Lila was... not what she seems?"

I blink, not sure I heard him correctly. "What?"

What game are you playing?

"You heard me." His eyes are darker

now, the turmoil swirling beneath the surface more evident than he'd like. "Have you ever... suspected something about her?"

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Years. Years of dismissing me, of refusing to listen when I tried to warn him. And now-now-he's asking?

Anger rises like a tide, but I swallow it down, keeping my expression carefully neutral.

"I've always sensed something false about her," I admit quietly. "But you never wanted to hear it."

I see something flicker in his eyes. Recognition. Maybe even regret. But it's gone almost as quickly as it

appears, replaced by the familiar

wall of indifference he always hides behind.

"This doesn't change anything between us," he says quickly, as though he's reminding himself rather than me. His words are clipped, too fast, too defensive. The unnecessary clarification says more than he realizes.

He's thought about it.

About us.

About what might have been.

But it doesn't matter. It never did.

"Of course," I reply evenly, keeping my voice steady despite the ache forming innoveldrama

my chest. "I never expected otherwise."

And I didn't. Not really.

But the pain still slices through me, sharp and unforgiving.

Raiden's gaze lingers on me for a moment fonger, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes. Then, he steps back, the distance between us growing once more.

"Good luck in the competition," he murmurs, his tone softer than it should be.

I nod, but I don't respond.

I watch as he turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the quiet, alone with

the echoes of words that mean nothing.

My heart pounds painfully in my chest, but I push it down, burying the hurt where

it can't touch me.

This doesn't change anything.

Our arrangement ends as planned.

And I'll make damn sure I walk away with my dignity intact.