Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 96

(Siena’s POV)

His non-answer shouldn’t sting. Not after everything.

Not after years of rejection, years of being the placeholder he tolerated because the Moon Goddess said so.

And yet, it does.

The words—I want to make amends—echo in my mind like a cruel melody, hollow and weightless. They’re not the words I asked for. They’re not the words I needed. If Raiden had looked me in the eye and said, No, I don’t love you, at least it would’ve been honest.

At least I would’ve known where I stand.

But this? This vague, careful line he’s walking, this sudden attentiveness, these small, thoughtful gestures—it’s throwing me off balance.

I see it every day now in the way he’s suddenly so considerate during our preparations for the next stage of the unity challenge.

He adjusts training schedules to accommodate my warriors, consults me on strategy with an attentiveness he’s never shown before, and even goes so far as to ensure I have my favorite tea brought to meetings.

Once, these things might have meant everything to me. Once, I would’ve clung to them like lifelines, desperate for even a shred of acknowledgment.

But now?

Now they feel like daggers, twisting in the wounds he left behind.

Is this guilt? Manipulation? Or is it something else entirely—something real?

My wolf, ever hopeful despite the years of pain, whispers that maybe it’s the latter. But I’ve learned better than to trust hope.

There is no hope where Raiden is concerned.

I keep my distance, guarding what’s left of my heart.

If I let him in again, even a little, I know how it will end. I know the cycle too well: hope, disappointment, despair.

“I don’t need your kindness now,” I told him during a particularly frustrating training session.

My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. The words had been clawing at my throat for days, and I couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Guilt is a poor foundation for anything meaningful.”

He stoped mid-step, turning to face me. His midnight eyes widen slightly, and for once, I see genuine surprise there—surprise, and maybe a flicker of something else. Regret?

“Siena, I’m not—”

At that moment I believed him.

But I also know it’s not enough.

I turn and walk away, my steps steady even as my chest aches with the strain of our weakening bond. The tether between us is fraying, unraveling piece by piece, and I can feel it slipping further with every step I take.

And yet, for the first time in years, I feel something close to peace.

***

That evening, I’m sitting in the quiet of my quarters, nursing a cup of tea and trying to sort through the mess of emotions and unwelcomed memories swirling in my chest, when there’s a knock at the door.

I set the cup down and rise, opening the door to find Zion standing there.

He looks… serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen him. His usual easygoing demeanor is gone, replaced by something resolute.

“Siena,” he begins, his voice unusually soft. “Can I come in?”

I nod, stepping aside to let him in. He crosses the room and turns to face me, his dark eyes steady and earnest.