Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Chapter 56

(Raiden’s POV)

The echo of my own words haunts me, looping endlessly in my mind: Our arrangement served both our purposes.

At the time, it had felt like the safest answer, the easiest way to sidestep the vulnerability hanging between us after her question—Did you ever care for me at all!

But the moment the words left my mouth. I saw the pain flash in her eyes, quick and sharp, before her carefully constructed mask slid back into place.

I can’t forget it.

The image of her walking away, her back straight, her steps measured, plays in my head like some kind of punishment.

I know I’ve hurt her before–my rejection, my indifference, my unwillingness to even consider what she might have been going through. But this time feels different. Worse.

Why couldn’t I have just told her the truth? That there were moments–too many to count–when her smile had been the brightest part of my day!

That I’d noticed the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought, or the way her laughter seemed to light up every

corner of the room?

Pride, maybe. Or fear. Fear of what such an admission might mean for the distance I’ve worked so hard to maintain between

But now, as the unity challenge continues, that distance feels more like a prison than a shield.

Every day, I find myself making small concessions–adjusting strategies to highlight her strengths, ensuring her injured. warriors receive better accommodations, giving her space to lead without interference.

They’re small gestures, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but they feel like inadequate penance for years of neglect.

And the worst part? Everyone else seems to see her value now.

Even the staunchest members of my pack, the ones who once whispered about her behind her back, are grudgingly acknowledging her leadership. They see what I refused to see for so long: Siena is remarkable.

The realization unsettles me. If everyone else can see her worth, why couldn’t P Or worse–did I see it and choose to ignore it because admitting it would mean facing my own failures?

It’s late one evening when I find myself standing outside her quarters, a tray in my hands. I don’t even know why I’m here, not really. All I know is that I’ve been searching for a way to bridge the gap between us, to say something–anything–that might ease the tension.

The tray feels absurdly heavy, though it only holds a teapot and a single cup. I’d asked the kitchen staff to prepare her favorite tea, hoping she might see it as an olive branch.

I knock once, twice, and then the door opens.

Siena stands there, her amber eyes widening slightly in surprise. She’s dressed simply, a loose sweater hanging off one shoulder, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks tired.

“Raiden,” she says, her tone cautious. “What are you doing here?”

16:27 Mon, 21 Apr

Chapter 56

“I thought we could go over the strategy for tomorrow’s presentation,” I say, lifting the tray slightly as if it’s some kind of peace offering.

Her eyes flick to the tray, then back to me. There’s a flicker of confusion in her expression, followed quickly by suspicion.

“Is that..“she begins, her voice trailing off.

“Chamomile,” I say, feeling oddly self–conscious. “I remember it’s your favorite”

She steps aside, letting me in, but her movements are hesitant, deliberate. The room smells faintly of lavender, and the soft light from the lamp on her desk casts long shadows across the walls.

I set the tray down on the small table by the window, pouring the tea with practiced ease. She watches me the entire time. her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable.

“You’re being kind,” she says finally, the words slow and deliberate, like she doesn’t quite trust them. “Why?”

The question hits with unexpected savagery.

Is that how she sees me? As someone incapable of kindness? As someone so consistently cold that even a small gesture feels suspicious!

“I’ve been unfair to you,” I say, the words heavier than they should be. “About your father. About.. many things.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, inadequate but honest. I glance at her, waiting for some kind of reaction, but she just stares at me, her amber eyes searching my face like she’s trying to decipher a code.

Finally, she speaks, her voice quiet but steady. “Why now?”

I hesitate, the answer slipping through my fingers like sand. How do I explain something I barely understand myself? That her question–Did you ever care for me at all!-has been gnawing at me like a wound that refuses to heal? That seeing her strength, her resilience, has made me question everything I thought I knew about her–and about myself?

“I don’t know,” 1 admit, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. “I just.. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. Things I should have said. Things I should have done differently.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she picks up the cup of tea, cradling it in her hands as if it’s a shield.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the faint clink of the teacup against the saucer.

And then she asks the question that stops me cold.

“Do you love me, Raiden?”

Her voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes that twists something deep inside me.

The question is so direct, so raw, that it leaves me momentarily speechless.

Love? The word feels foreign, too big and too small all at once. It was never part of our arrangement,

was it?

But as I look at her–the way the soft light catches the strands of her hair, the way her amber eyes hold mine with quiet determination–1 feel something shift.

I want to tell her yes.

I want to tell her that I see her now, that I’ve always seen her, even when I didn’t want to admit it. But the words lodge in my throat, tangled with years of pride and fear and everything else I’ve buried.

“I want to make amends,” I say instead, my voice quieter than I intended.

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Chapter 56

Her expression doesn’t change immediately, but I see the flicker of something in her eyes–disappointment, maybe, Or resignation

mends,” she repeats, her tone flat.

I nod, the weight of my own inadequacy pressing down on me. “I know it’s not enough. But I want to try

She sets the teacup down with deliberate care, her movements slow and measured.

“You can’t fix this, Raiden,” she says, her voice steady but laced with a quiet sadness. “Not with tea. Not with apologies. Not with..” She gestures vaguely, as if searching for the right word. “This”