Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Siena’s POV

The competition hall smells like sweat, metal, and a faint trace of pine drifting in from the open windows.

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It’s a chaotic symphony of sound: the clang of weapons being tested, the murmur of hushed strategies, and the occasional burst of laughter from cocky warriors who think they’ve already won.

My pack stands behind me like a wall of quiet resolve, their presence steady but not flashy. Windhowl doesn’t need flash.

We’ve always been about substance. But as I look across the room at Raiden, his arm slung around Lila like she’s some trophy he’s already polished, I can’t help the bitter twist in my stomach.

His gaze locks on me, cold and sharp, like he’s trying to peel away my skin and see the doubt underneath.

I square my shoulders, refusing to give him that satisfaction.

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My wolf stirs uneasily, pacing beneath the surface like a shadow I can’t quite catch. She doesn’t like Lila. She’s been growling about her ever since Raiden brought her into the pack. Something about her mark is… wrong. Twisted. But I can’t dwell on that now.

The announcement echoes through the hall. “Windhowl, prepare yourselves. You’re up next.”

My heart pounds once, hard and heavy.

The whispers start immediately, slithering through the crowd like snakes. I don’t need to hear the words to know what they’re saying.

My unconventional warriors–scarred veterans, silver–haired elders, and women who’ve fought harder than most men ever will–are not what the other packs expect. They want brawn. They want youth. They want perfection. And we’re not playing their game.

Lila’s laugh slices through the noise, sharp and cruel. “Look at Siena’s army of cripples! Is this what the great Windhowl has become?”

My jaw tightens, but I don’t react. Around me, my pack shifts uncomfortably, their confidence wavering under the weight of her mockery. I can feel the sting of it, like a slap across my face. My wolf snarls, but I shove her down. Now isn’t the time for anger. Across the room, Raiden doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t stop her, either.

His silence is worse than her words.

I step forward, turning to face my pack. Their eyes are on me, searching for reassurance, for strength. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and steady my racing heart. My voice is strong when I speak, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.

“Strength isn’t measured by youth or perfection,” I say, my words deliberate and firm, “but by battles survived and wisdom earned.”

The whispers falter. I feel the shift in the air, subtle but undeniable.

My pack stands a little taller, their spines straightening as they absorb my words. I glance at Raiden, catching his gaze for a fleeting moment.

He’s watching me, his expression unreadable. For a second, I think I see something flicker in his eyes–uncertainty, maybe? Regret? But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar mask of indifference.

“Windhowl, with me,” I say, turning away from him and focusing on the task at hand. My pack moves as one, following me toward the center of the hall where the competition will take place.

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Chapter 23

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The space feels cavernous, the stone walls echoing every sound. The other packs are watching us, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright disdain.

I can feel their judgment like a weight pressing down on me, but I refuse to let it crush me.

The first trial is a test of strength. Simple enough in theory, but it’s designed to favor the young and unscarred. The judges explain the rules, their voices monotone and detached. I glance at my pack, their faces set with grim wisdom that can only

be earned with time.

They are no fools, they know the odds are stacked against us, but they don’t complain. They never do.

The trial begins, and one by one, my warriors step forward to face the challenge.

A hulking male from another pack ‘sneers as one of my elders takes her place. Her name is Elara, and she’s been with Windhowl longer than I’ve been alive. Her hair is silver, her face lined with age, but there’s a fire in her eyes that hasn’t dimmed.

She grips the weighted bar with steady hands, her muscles straining as she lifts it off the ground. The room falls silent as she holds it there, her arms trembling but steadfast in her honor.

When she finally lowers it, the silence breaks into scattered applause. It’s not much, but it’s enough to remind the others that strength comes in many forms.

“Impressive,” Lila says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “For someone her age, anyway.”

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Elara doesn’t react, but I see the flicker of hurt in her eyes. I step forward, my voice cutting through the noise.

“Say what you want about us,” I say, my tone calm but dangerous. “But do not mistake kindness for weakness. Every scar on this team was earned in battle. Can your pack say the same?”

Can you?

Lila’s smirk falters, just for a second.

Raiden’s gaze meets mine again, and this time, I see something else in his expression. Pride. He tries to hide it, but it’s there, buried beneath the layers of resentment and disappointment.

What game are you playing Raiden?

The second trial is speed. Windhowl isn’t known for, its speed, but we hold our own. A younger warrior named Kael surprises everyone with his agility, darting through the obstacle course with the precision of a predator.

The crowd watches in stunned silence as he crosses the finish line, his chest heaving with exertion but his eyes blazing with triumph.

By the time the final trial begins, the whispers have shifted. They’re not mocking us anymore.

They’re curious. Impressed, even.

Lila’s smug confidence has been replaced by a tight–lipped scowl, and Raiden… Raiden looks like he doesn’t know what to

think.

The last trial is a test of leadership. It’s my turn now.

The judges give us a scenario–a simulated battle–and it’s up to me to lead my pack to victory. The details are complicated, the stakes high. But this is where I thrive.

This is what I was born to do.

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Chapter 23

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