Chapter 135
“Alpha King Raiden.” I greet him formally, my tone smooth and diplomatic. “Tunderstand the SOA preparations are proceeding well. Congratulations on your foundation’s success.”
The words are deliberate, calculated to keep the conversation professional. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his presence affects me.
For a moment, something flickers across his face pain, perhaps, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same mask of composure I’ve seen him wear a thousand times before.
“Siena,” he says, his voice low and steady, though there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before, “Your global initiatives provided the framework. We’ve implemented many programs you originally proposed.”
The humility in his tone surprises me. For years, he dismissed my ideas, dismissed me. Hearing him acknowledge my contributions now feels like a vindication I didn’t know I needed.
And yet, it stings.
“How wonderful that my ideas proved valuable after all,” I reply, my polite smile masking the hurt his belated recognition evokes. “I’m glad they’ve been of use.”
The words are diplomatic, but there’s an edge beneath them that I can’t quite suppress. I hate that it still matters to me, that his validation–so long delayed–still has the power to wound me.
Raiden’s eyes search mine, as though he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “They were more than useful,” he says quietly. “They were necessary. I see that now.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond.
Alaric chooses that moment to interject, his presence a steadying force. “Siena’s work has been transformative,” he says, his tone casual but firm. “Not just here, but across the world. Her impact speaks for itself.”
Raiden glances at Alaric, his gaze sharp. There’s no hostility in it, but there’s something territorial, something primal that lingers just beneath the surface.
“I don’t doubt that,” Raiden says, his voice measured.
The tension between them is subtle but undeniable, and I find myself caught between relief and irritation. Alaric has been a steadfast ally, and his support means more to me than I can express. But I don’t need him to fight my battles.
“Thank you, Alaric,” I say, placing a hand on his arm. “But I think Raiden and I can manage a brief conversation.”
Alaric studies me for a moment before nodding. “Of course,” he says, standing. “I’ll give you two some space.”
As he walks away, I turn back to Raiden, my composure slipping just enough for him to see the exhaustion in my eyes.
“What do you want, Raiden?”
1/2
His expression shifts, the weight of his emotions visible in the slight furrow of his brow, the tightness in his jaw. “I wanted to see you,” he admits. “To apologize.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’ve apologized before ”
“I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “But it’s not enough. It never will be.”
There’s a rawness in his tone that takes me by surprise. For a moment, I see the man beneath the title, the one who’s been carrying the weight of his mistakes as heavily as I’ve carried the scars they left behind.
“I don’t need your apologies, Raiden,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “I’ve moved
- on. ”
“I know you have,” he says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”
The words catch me off guard, their sincerity cutting through my defenses.
“But I needed to say it anyway,” he continues, meeting my eyes again. “I needed you to know that I see it now. All of it. The ways I failed you, the things I took for granted. I see it, Siena. And I’m sorry.”
The silence that follows is heavy, filled with things neither of us knows how to say.
Finally, I take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
It’s all I can offer him.
Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded bar. Horace whines softly, but I ignore her, focusing on the steady rhythm of my footsteps as I move toward the exit.
The night air is cool against my skin as I step outside, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, I feel the faintest flicker of peace.
I’ve survived. I’ve grown. And I’m finally free.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
