Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Siena’s POV

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I sit on my bed, staring at my phone. My fingers hover above the screen, and for a moment, I’m frozen. I had been hoping- no, expecting–a message from Raiden, as my best friend had suggested. She had said, “It’s definitely Raiden. He owes you an apology for everything he’s done!”

But the message isn’t from Raiden. It’s from Zion.

A knot forms in my stomach as I read his text.

[Oh, by the way, doesn’t every pack‘ participating in SOA need to provide their competition plan? Since you want me to invest in you during the competition, you should bring yours along.]

The words are flat and businesslike, but there’s a hint of sarcasm I can’t ignore. A sigh escapes my lips as I push aside the disappointment I feel. Zion. He’s always been a mystery to me. A wolf with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. The fact that he’s willing to meet with me feels strange, especially after all the years of him barely acknowledging my existence. I want to be upset, to let the irritation wash over me, but I can’t. This could be my chance. I’ll have to take it.

I look back at the message again, trying to read between the lines. Despite everything, Zion’s willing to take a look at my plan. In some way, I have to admire that. Most people would have dismissed me outright. But Zion? He’s willing to hear me out, at least.

That’s something, isn’t it?

I take a deep breath and start preparing myself for what’s to come. This meeting, however it may unfold, is my opportunity to show that I’m not just Raiden’s discarded wife or the daughter of Windhowl’s former alpha. I’m more than that. If I can make Zion see that, I’ll prove something to myself–and maybe to everyone else.

For the next few hours, I bury myself in my father’s old study. I’ve been spending as much time here as I can lately, trying to understand the leadership that Windhowl once had, before it fell apart. There’s a wealth of knowledge here–old books, faded scrolls, maps that detail the history of our pack and the alliances that shaped it. Most of it has been gathering dust for years, abandoned after my mother’s death. But as I sift through the papers, I find myself learning more than I ever thought possible.

My father was never the “greedy and cruel” alpha people thought he was. Sure, he made mistakes–he was only human–but his leadership was exceptional in his early years. If anything, the political capital he earned through diplomacy, alliances, and wise decisions was what gave Windhowl its strength. I didn’t know it when I was younger, but I understand now how much he cared for this pack.

And that’s why it hurt so much when he changed after my mother passed. He withdrew into himself, lost in grief, and Windhowl started to fall apart. The alliance with Silverfang–one of the most important pieces of my father’s leadership- began to fray.

Reading through his old journals and listening to the stories from the pack’s long–time assistant, I began to see something I hadn’t understood before. Strength isn’t just physical. It isn’t just about force or intimidation. It’s also about love. Compassion. Charity. My father, though he had failed in many ways, was also a deeply emotional man. His strength came from a place of love–for his pack, for my mother. But when she was gone, he lost that guiding force.

Perhaps, if he had had more time, he could have found a new source of strength. Perhaps I can find that strength in myself.

The assistant also reminds me, time and again, that I need to find a beta. A beta from Silverfang. The idea of finding someone strong enough to stand by my side feels foreign, almost unnecessary. But I know better than to ignore the reality of the situation. The SOA competition is approaching, and it’s no longer just about showing off my strength. It’s about survival. If I can secure a strong beta from Silverfang, the pack will be more likely to rally behind me.

Time is running out.

53.33 SUIT, 20 API

Chapter 14

02%

I don’t waste any more time thinking. I gather my thoughts, my materials, and my plan. I work tirelessly, refining every detail. I go through every piece of information I’ve collected, making sure it’s all aligned with my vision. This plan–it’s not just for Zion. It’s for me. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve learned about myself and about my pack.

Finally, after hours of work, I’m done. I’m ready.

I don’t take the time to change or dress up. I don’t need to look perfect–I just need to show up and show what I’m capable of. So, I grab the folder, slip on my jacket, and head out the door, determination surging through me.

When I arrive at Silverfang’s bar, the noise hits me immediately. The loud music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses- everything seems to drown out my thoughts for a moment. I scan the room, trying to spot Zion. It doesn’t take long. He’s easy to spot–sitting on a couch, surrounded by a few women, a drink in hand.

I take a moment to study him as I approach. Zion is everything Raiden is not. He’s relaxed, confident in a way that feels almost dangerous. His dark hair is messy, tousled in the most effortless way possible. His eyes are sharp, full of secrets that he’s not willing to share. He leans back, his posture casual, but there’s something about him that feels like he’s always in control.

I can’t decide if I admire him or hate him.

As I walk up to him, he doesn’t even look up. He’s too busy talking to one of the women. I can feel the sting of his indifference. I’ve never been someone to beg for attention, but his blatant disregard for my presence cuts deeper than I expected.

When he finally notices me, he gives a slow, lazy smile, as if he’s been expecting me all along.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice smooth and dripping with sarcasm. “Look who’s here. The useless vase of a luna, bringing her trash paper along.”

The words hit me like a slap to the face. The ridicule is instant, and I feel my blood boil. Trash paper? My proposal? All of my hard work, reduced to nothing but trash? His smirk deepens as he waits for a reaction, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I force myself to speak, though my voice comes out cold. “What? Are you talking about my proposal?”

Zion stands up, his tall frame towering over me. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he takes a leisurely sip of his drink, and I watch as his eyes scan me. There’s something in them–something dark and almost predatory.