Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Siena’s POV
自
The stinging silence between us feels unbearable. Zion’s smirk is unwavering as he watches me, as though he experts me to crumble in front of him. His drink–drenched proposal lies on the floor, a crumpled mess of paper and ink. The liquid continues to pool, a slick sheen over the once–ordered chaos of my work.
But I’m not reacting the way he expects. There’s no scream, no frustration boiling over the surface. Instead, I gaze at the soaked paper, the words smeared beyond recognition. I feel no anger, no fire. I simply feel cold. Empty. As if the whole situation is beneath me. And maybe it is.
I lift my eyes slowly to meet his. Zibn, ever the predator, watches me closely, but something flickers in his gaze–something like uncertainty, something I don’t think he’s used to. It almost makes me smile.
“So, you never actually intended to sponsor me. This was just a joke, wasn’t it?” My voice comes out level, calm, though every word feels sharp in my mouth. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, and I hold my ground, feeling the weight of his surprise. He was expecting me to fight back, but I’m beyond that now.
Zion raises an eyebrow, as though he’s trying to gauge whether I’m being serious or not. His smile falters for a brief moment before it returns, a little too wide to be genuine. “Of course!” he says, and his voice is laced with that same arrogance that always grates on me. “The champion is undoubtedly Raiden. Do you really want to challenge our alpha king?”
I can see the disdain in his eyes, and it makes something twist in my gut, but I force myself to stay composed. The sting from his earlier words fades in the face of this. He thinks this is a game. He thinks he’s still in control.
He doesn’t understand.
“Besides, you- Zion continues, his voice dripping with condescension. “You, a small–time acting alpha with no real talent? What kind of good proposal could you possibly come up with?”
Laughter ripples through the room, a low hum of amusement from the men gathered around him. My stomach tightens, but I don’t let them see it. I don’t show weakness. Not anymore.
“Yeah, what could a woman write that’s worth looking at?” one of them says, a sneer in his voice.
Another flexes his muscles in a show of dominance, like it somehow proves their point. “The topic is ‘strength.’ Look at this -this is strength! Women should just stick to cooking and cleaning at home!”
Their voices rise, jeering, but I don’t flinch. I don’t give them the satisfaction. Zion’s grin widens as he soaks in the attention, reveling in his power over me.
“Hey, that’s a bit too much,” Zion says with a laugh, raising a hand to calm his friends. “The ladies are still here. But I agree with them! Siena, what do you think? … Ah, I almost forgot. You don’t really seem like a woman anymore.”
His words echo in the room. There’s a familiar sting to them–one I’ve heard too many times before. The insinuation that I’m less than, that I’m somehow unworthy. I want to retort, to fight back with every ounce of energy in me, but I hold myself still. There’s a cold fire inside me now, one that burns brighter than my anger.
I don’t need to prove anything to them.
Zion continues, throwing out the insults like they’re nothing. He goes on about how Lila is gentler, better than I ever could be, that Raiden would never fall for someone like me. He claims that this marriage, my marriage, was nothing but a mistake from the start.
It’s too much. It’s all too much.
His words blur together, a haze of insults and assumptions, and I’ve had enough.
1/3
Sun, 20 Apr
Chapter 15
Without thinking, my hand swings out. The sound of my palm meeting his cheek cracks through the air The mom falls in an eerie silence. The sharp sting in my own hand is nothing compared to the shock that registers acro Zine’s face. Hie smug grin falters for the first time, replaced by a look of complete disbelief.
The others freeze, their laughter dying on the spot. Zion stands there for a moment, his cheek already reddening his month slightly open. His eyes widen, flicking back and forth between me and his friends. It’s as if he can’t quite comprehend what just happened.
The bar is still.
I can feel the heat in my cheeks, but I refuse to look away. Zion might be the second son of Silverfang, but I am not afraid Not anymore. I pick up the ruined proposal, ignoring the wet ink that stains my fingers. The paper is ruined, but it doesn’t
matter.
I stand tall, meeting his eyes one last time.
“My marriage with Raiden is none of your business to judge,” I say, each word slow and deliberate, like a vow. “This is a political marriage. Even without love, it’s the highest decision between two packs. And you—someone who isn’t even worthy of being a beta–how dare you speak to me like this?”
I don’t wait for him to answer. He doesn’t deserve an answer.
Zion’s POV
She’s not the Siena I remember–the one who would shriek, fight back, claw her way to the surface. This isn’t the reckless. arrogant woman who clung to Raiden’s side, desperate for his attention.
No. This version of Siena is something else. Something dangerous.
She’s like a queen. And she’s looking down on me with an expression I don’t recognize. There’s no fear in her eyes. No hesitation. Only strength. A quiet, terrifying power that I can’t ignore.
My hand goes to my cheek instinctively, where the sting from her slap still burns. For a moment, I can’t speak. I’m rooted to the spot, a sense of unease creeping into my chest.
“Are you not afraid I won’t sponsor you after this?” I finally manage, my voice rougher than I want it to be. The words come out a little too quickly, like I’m trying to justify myself. Trying to cling to my power. But I’m not sure if I even believe it.
Siena’s laugh is low and sharp, a sound that makes my stomach churn. “Do you honestly think I still want your sponsorship? Believing in you in the first place was my biggest mistake. You’re exactly what the rumors say–a useless, annoying playboy!”
Her words hit harder than I expected. I’ve heard the gossip before, but hearing it from her…..
It cuts deep.
“I don’t need your sponsorship,” she continues, her voice steady, unwavering. “I’ll earn what I need on my own! Get lost, you pile of trash paper.”
The words ring in my ears as she turns on her heel and storms out of the bar, leaving me standing there with nothing but my bruised ego and a ruined proposal in my hands.
The others around me start murmuring again, the silence finally breaking. Whispers fill the air, and I hear them:
“How dare she speak to him like that?”
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