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Chapter 148
How did we come to this, Zion and I? Lifelong friends, now torn apart by jealousy, pride, and my own stubborn denial.
Before either of us can speak again, a quiet, faint scent drifts through the open doorway–familiar and hauntingly sweet.
Siena.
My blood turns to ice in my veins, and my heart plummets with sudden dread. Slowly, I glance toward the doorway, my breath catching painfully in my throat.
Siena stands frozen there, her amber eyes wide and filled with an agony that cuts deep into my soul. She heard everything–my cold dismissal, my cruel declaration.
“Siena,” I whisper hoarsely, desperation clawing at my chest.
What are you doing here?
She meets my gaze for a fleeting moment, pain flickering raw and unshielded across her beautiful features. Then she turns sharply, disappearing quickly down the corridor before I can move or speak again.
The sight of her pain shatters something deep within me, leaving me hollow and breathless, drowning in guilt and self–loathing. Zion watches silently, expression unreadable, before quietly slipping from the room, leaving me alone in suffocating silence.
I sink numbly into my chair, burying my face in my hands, fighting the overwhelming wave of remorse crashing violently through me. Horace whines mournfully, desperate for the mate we’ve wounded yet again through stubborn pride and denial.
Alone, finally, and in the quiet darkness of my quarters, memories flood my mind relentlessly, each one sharper and more painful than the last.
I recall every moment with Siena–her gentle laughter, her quiet strength, the warmth of her touch, which I once took for granted.
I see now, clearly and painfully, how thoroughly I misjudged her–how cruelly blind I’d been to her worth, her strength, her quiet dignity. I recall every moment I dismissed her, every cruel word spoken in prideful ignorance, every silent wound inflicted.
My indifference.
Horace gives me no peace, pacing restlessly within me, aching fiercely for Siena. The realization hits me brutally: I love her. Deeply, irrevocably, desperately. I love Siena, and I may have lost her forever.
The thought sends sharp panic slicing through me, heart pounding wildly, fear choking me.
My pride struggles fiercely, resisting vulnerability and admission of my deepest truth.
“You’re hiding again, Raiden. I can smell the deception you wrap around yourself like armor. This isn’t the path of strength.”
Chapter 148
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“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You think I can’t sense your turmoil? Your hesitation. The truth doesn’t care about your comfort.”
My shoulders slump slightly.
“What good would it do now? Some bridges stay burned.”
“Your pride, Raiden, is a poor companion for the long winter ahead. Face what you’ve been running from. Make it right.”
“You never give up, do you?”
“Horace huffs with finality. Not when it matters. Not when it’s you.”
I rise slowly, moving to my desk. My fingers tremble slightly as I open the hidden drawer, carefully retrieving a small velvet box tucked away.
My heart clenches painfully as I gently open the lid, revealing the ceremonial rings nestled inside–rings I never had the courage to offer her, too blinded by pride and arrogance to recognize their true value.
I run my fingers softly over the delicate metal, feeling a profound ache bloom sharply in my chest. These rings represent everything I lost–everything I threw away so carelessly.
A quiet, desperate hope stirs tentatively within me, fragile yet undeniable.
Is it too late?
Could Siena ever forgive me, after everything I’ve done?
Or is she lost forever, driven away by my stubborn pride?
Fear holds me frozen; uncertainty grips me painfully. I’ve hurt Siena so deeply, wounding her in ways I can’t repair with mere apologies.
How could I ever hope to earn her forgiveness, her trust, and her love?
Yet, beneath the fear, beneath the doubt, something stronger stirs–determination, fierce and resolute. If
there’s even the smallest chance to win her back, to heal the wounds I’ve caused, I must take it.
Zion was right, no matter how much it infuriates me. Siena deserves effort, humility, genuine repentance–not empty pride or cold denial.
I close the velvet box carefully, determination solidifying inside me.
Tomorrow, I’ll find her.
Tomorrow, I’ll confront my mistakes openly, honestly, without pride or pretension.
Tomorrow, I’ll fight with everything I possess–heart, soul, wolf—to earn back the mate I’ve foolishly lost.
