#Chapter 76: The Sting of the Past
(Siena’s POV)
The scent hits me before I see him–pine and midnight, sharp and familiar even amid the layered perfumes and alcohol that saturate the air in the bar. It slices through the laughter and music like a blade, striking a part of me I’ve tried so hard to bury.
My wolf stirs immediately, her sleepy dormancy shattered by his presence. She whines softly, hopeful and yearning, but I clamp down on her emotions, banishing the noise before it can grow.
I knew this would happen.
Of course, I did.
Returning to Windhowl, even for a short visit, meant the chance of seeing him was inevitable. I thought I was prepared. I rehearsed the possibilities in my mind, practiced my composure. But nothing could have prepared me for the way my body betrays me now–muscles tensing, pulse quickening, breath hitching–at the simple fact of his proximity.
I don’t turn immediately–I can feel him before I even see him, the weight of his presence like a gravitational pull in the room. My fingers tighten around the glass in my hand as I force myself to remain still.
I’m not the same woman who walked out of his life nearly two years ago.
I won’t let him undo everything I’ve built.
Alaric, seated beside me, notices the shift in my demeanor. He’s too observant not to.
“The famous ex–husband has arrived,” he murmurs, his mediaterain accent soft and lilting.
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. His tone is calm, almost amused, but there’s a thread of concern beneath it. Alaric is many things–charming, intelligent, and infuriatingly perceptive among them.
“Shall we leave?” he asks, his voice low and discreet, meant only for me.
The offer is tempting, more tempting than I’d like to admit. It would be easy to slip out quietly, to avoid the confrontation entirely. But I know I can’t. I won’t.
I straighten my spine, lifting my chin slightly as I shake my head. “No,” I say firmly. “I’m not running.”
Alaric studies me for a moment, his dark eyes thoughtful. Then he leans back in his chair, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. “You’re stronger than that.”
His words bring a flicker of warmth to my chest, but they do little to calm the storm raging beneath my skin.
Raiden is moving closer. I don’t have to look to know it. I feel him like a shadow, his presence dark and unrelenting, drawing nearer with every second.
I force myself to focus on the conversation at hand, laughing lightly at something Alaric says, though I barely register the words.
My wolf, however, is restless, pacing inside me, her excitement palpable. She doesn’t care about my pride or my progress. She only knows that our mate is here, close enough to touch, and she wants to close the distance.
I won’t let her.
Rairity intercepts him before he can reach me, her stance protective. The sight of it brings a surprising warmth to my chest. Rairity has always been loyal, but seeing her step between us like this–shielding me, even subtly–is something I hadn’t expected.
Raiden takes a step in my direction, but Rairity slides in front of him before he can get close.
“Not tonight,” she says, her voice low but firm.
His brows lift slightly, surprised, maybe even amused. “I just want to talk.”
She crosses her arms. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”
The music swells behind them, drowning out anything else. I can’t make out the words, but I don’t need to. I see the sharp twitch of Raiden’s jaw, the way his eyes flick past her to me, dark and unreadable.
His gaze holds mine, steady and burning. Once, that look would’ve pulled me in, would’ve had my heart racing with the reckless hope that maybe–just maybe–he still felt something.
Now, it just hurts.
Successfully unlocked!
I square my shoulders and take a slow breath. Then, because not acknowledging him would be a bigger statement than I‘ m willing to make, I give the smallest nod. My face is smooth, emotionless–a porcelain mask I’ve worn too long to ever take off,
His mouth opens like he might say my name, but Rairity shifts again, just enough to remind him he is not the one in control.
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#Chapter 76: The Sting of the Past
I can see the tension in Raiden’s shoulders, the way his jaw tightens as Rairity speaks. He looks past her, his midnight eyes locking on mine with an intensity that used to spark desperate hope in me. Now, it only makes my chest ache.
When politeness finally necessitates acknowledgment, I turn toward him, my expression carefully composed. I’ve perfected this mask over the years, the one that hides everything I don’t want anyone to see.
“Alpha King Raiden,” I greet him formally, my tone smooth and diplomatic. “I understand the SOA preparations are proceeding well. Congratulations on your foundation’s success.”
The words are deliberate, calculated to keep the conversation professional. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his presence affects me.
For a moment, something flickers across his face–pain, perhaps, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same mask of composure I’ve seen him wear a thousand times before.
“Siena,” he says, his voice low and steady, though there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Your global initiatives provided the framework. We’ve implemented many programs you originally proposed.”
The humility in his tone surprises me. For years, he dismissed my ideas, dismissed me. Hearing him acknowledge my contributions now feels like a vindication I didn’t know I needed.
And yet, it stings.
“How wonderful that my ideas proved valuable after all,” I reply, my polite smile masking the hurt his belated recognition evokes. “I’m glad they’ve been of use.”
The words are diplomatic, but there’s an edge beneath them that I can’t quite suppress. I hate that it still matters to me, that his validation–so long delayed–still has the power to wound me.
Raiden’s eyes search mine, as though he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “They were more than useful,” he says quietly. “They were necessary. I see that now.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond.
Alaric chooses that moment to interject, his presence a steadying force. “Siena’s work has been transformative,” he says, his tone casual but firm. “Not just here, but across the world. Her impact speaks for itself.”
Raiden glances at Alaric, his gaze sharp. There’s no hostility in it, but there’s something territorial, something primal that lingers just beneath the surface.
“I don’t doubt that,” Raiden says, his voice measured.
The tension between them is subtle but undeniable, and I find myself caught between relief and irritation. Alaric has been a steadfast ally, and his support means more to me than I can express. But I don’t need him to fight my battles.
“Thank you, Alaric,” I say, placing a hand on his arm. “But I think Raiden and I can manage a brief conversation.”
Alaric studies me for a moment before nodding. “Of course,” he says, standing. “I’ll give you two some space.”
As he walks away, I turn back to Raiden, my composure slipping just enough for him to see the exhaustion in my eyes.
“What do you want, Raiden?”
His expression shifts, the weight of his emotions visible in the slight furrow of his brow, the tightness in his jaw. “I wanted… to see you,” he admits. “To apologize.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’ve apologized before.”
“I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “But it’s not enough. It never will be.”
There’s a rawness in his tone that takes me by surprise. For a moment, I see the man beneath the title, the one who’s been carrying the weight of his mistakes as heavily as I’ve carried the scars they left behind.
“I don’t need your apologies, Raiden,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “I’ve moved on.”
“I know you have,” he says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”
The words catch me off guard, their sincerity cutting through my defenses.
“But I needed to say it anyway,” he continues, meeting my eyes again. “I needed you to know that I see it now. All of it. The ways I failed you, the things I took for granted. I see it, Siena. And I’m sorry.”
The silence that follows is heavy, filled with things neither of us knows how to say.
Finally, I take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
It’s all I can offer hirm.
Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded bar. Horace whines softly, but I ignore her, focusing on the steady rhythm of my footsteps as I move toward the exit.
The night air is cool against my skin as I step outside, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, I feel the faintest flicker of peace.
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#Chapter 76 The Sting of the Past
I’ve survived. I’ve grown. And I’m finally free.
3/3
