Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 87

#Chapter 87: The Parting of a Queen

#Chapter 87: The Parting of a Queen

(Raiden’s POV)

The clock on my office wall ticks relentlessly, each second louder than the last, marking the cruel passage of time slipping through my fingers.

I pace the room like a caged animal, my wolf restless beneath my skin.

My eyes flick repeatedly toward the window, searching for glimpses of Siena, as if I might somehow hold her here by sheer force of will alone.

The sun is already sinking low on the horizon, bleeding vivid shades of crimson and gold across the sky–beautiful, yet mocking in its reminder of how quickly her departure approaches.

For hours, I’ve tried to find a moment alone with Siena, desperate to speak openly, to finally voice the truth I’ve denied too long. But each attempt has ended in frustration, interrupted by pack emergencies, diplomatic obligations, or endless distractions.

Horace snarls inwardly, clawing at my chest, frantic with the knowledge that we’re running out of time. Tomorrow, Siena will leave Windhowl again–perhaps forever–and I haven’t even managed a proper conversation.

Gritting my teeth, I straighten my formal attire, preparing reluctantly for tonight’s diplomatic dinner with our allied packs. Though obligations press heavily upon me, my thoughts remain consumed by her–by everything I need to say, by fears of missing my chance forever.

When I arrive, the formal dining hall is already crowded–a sea of polished silverware, softly glowing candles, and murmured conversations. I pause in the doorway, gaze automatically seeking Siena among the many gathered guests.

She stands near the opposite side of the room, gracefully conversing with a group of visiting Alphas. Tonight, she wears a simple, elegant gown of deep emerald silk. The fabric gently hugs her figure, drawing subtle admiration from those around her.

Her hair falls loosely over one shoulder, catching the candlelight in glossy waves.

My breath catches sharply.

Something twists fiercely within me, possessive and regretful all at once. How many times have I seen her before, yet never truly noticed her quiet strength, her gentle confidence, or her remarkable grace?

“The Northern Alliance has agreed to our proposed hunting boundaries,” Siena explains, her voice carrying easily across the council chamber. “In exchange, we’ll provide support during their winter migration.”

I watch silently, heart aching softly, as other Alphas pay her quiet respect, leaning forward in their seats.

“During my time in the Eastern territories,” she continues, gesturing to the map spread before them, “I established three new trading routes that should benefit all packs, particularly during harsh seasons.”

The Alpine Pack leader nods appreciatively. “Impressive work, especially with their traditional resistance to outsiders.”

“In my absence,” Siena says, deliberately meeting each Alpha’s gaze, “I’ve asked Marek to oversee our northern borders. Elena will manage internal affairs with the council’s guidance.” She pauses, her confidence unwavering. “I’ve trained them personally. They understand our pack’s values and will maintain our strength while honoring our commitments.”

Alpha tilts his head. “And how long do you anticipate this diplomatic mission will take?”

Rpossibly eight,” she answers

without hesitation. “Time enough to secure alliances at H 2 495

“Six

for generations.”

Siena navigates these complex pack politics effortlessly, her diplomatic skill clear and impressive. And I- the fool who let her walk away–can only observe from the shadows, witnessing the leader she’s become without me.

Why

ad I never truly seen her this way before?

Across the crowded room, I overhear a visiting Alpha–tall, silver–haired leader from the eastern packs–address Siena warmly, admiration clear in his voice. “Your international itarian work has been truly inspiring, Siena. Your efforts have brought hope to many suffering families.”

My pulse quickens sharply, surprise jolting through me.

International itarian work?

I realize abruptly how little I truly know about her accomplishments during our separation.

How much has she achieved in the years apart, quietly making a difference without needing recognition or praise? Shame settles heavily in my chest, bitter and sharp. What else have I missed? What else have I so blindly ignored?

As dinner progresses, Horace grows increasingly restless inside me, pacing anxiously, impatient with meaningless conversation and diplomatic formalities. My gaze remains fixed stubbornly upon Siena, desperate to catch her eye, to

1/3

#Chapter 87: The Parting of a Queen

signal my need for private conversation.

Finally, after what feels like endless hours, an opportunity arises.

Siena slips quietly onto the open terrace, seeking fresh air away from the stifling heat and noise of the dining hall. My heart leaps painfully, and my pulse races with sudden urgency. I swiftly excuse myself from my companions and follow her outside.

The night air is cool and bracing, scented faintly with pine and distant rain. Siena stands quietly at the terrace railing, gazing thoughtfully into the darkness, moonlight gently illuminating her features. My heart pounds unsteadily, nerves tangled chaotically within me.

“Siena,” I begin softly, my voice rough and nervous.

She turns slowly, amber eyes meeting mine carefully. Her expression remains guarded yet polite, the careful mask of diplomatic neutrality firmly in place. “Raiden,” she replies quietly. “Enjoying the evening?”

Frustration rises sharply inside me, words I’d rehearsed evaporating instantly beneath her calm gaze. “The weather is… pleasant,” I say awkwardly, inwardly cursing my own cowardice.

She nods politely, eyes flickering briefly toward the stars. “Yes, it’s lovely tonight.”

Silence stretches painfully between us, heavy with unspoken words and tangled emotions neither of us dares openly acknowledge. My wolf snarls inwardly, urging honesty and vulnerability, yet pride and fear hold me stubbornly frozen. “I-” I start hesitantly, heart hammering fiercely. The words I desperately need to say remain lodged firmly in my throat. “I wanted to… um… thank you for your diplomatic efforts during your visit.”

The polite, impersonal words feel painfully inadequate and bitterly disappointing.