#Chapter 79: The Final Fate
(Raiden’s POV)
The thought of Siena leaving–finalizing the divorce, severing the last thread of connection between us–sits heavy in my chest It’s as if the air itself presses down on me, suffocating and unbearable. Horace paces restlessly, his frustration and griet echoing my own. I know I’ve run out of time. If there’s any chance left to show her how much I’ve changed, how much 1 finally understand what I threw away, I have to act now.
When the report reaches me that she’s visiting Windhowl’s veteran rehabilitation center, my decision is immediate. I abandon the council meeting I’m supposed to lead, ignoring the startled protests of my advisors, and head straight there.
The center is one of her legacies–a program she initiated despite my opposition at the time. I remember dismissing it, calling it a waste of resources, claiming we needed to focus on other priorities. Now, it stands as a testament to her vision, a reminder of how blind I was to her wisdom.
I find her kneeling beside an elderly warrior, her golden hair catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. She’s adjusting his prosthetic limb, her hands gentle yet precise as she speaks to him in a low, soothing tone. The warrior, a grizzled man whose scars speak of battles long past, smiles at her as though she’s the only person in the world who truly
sees him
It’s a simple moment, but it captures everything I failed to value about her. Her compassionate leadership. Her practical vision. Her ability to connect with every member of the pack, no matter their status or station.
I stand in the doorway, watching as she moves from one patient to the next, her presence calm and steady. She asks questions, listens intently, and takes notes on a small pad she carries with her. It’s clear she’s not just visiting–she’s working, improving, making a difference.
My chest tightens with a mix of admiration and regret. This is who she’s always been. I just refused to see it.
When she finally notices me, her relaxed demeanor shifts. Wariness flickers in her amber eyes, and her shoulders straighten, as if bracing herself for another confrontation.
“Did you need something, Alpha King?” she asks, her tone formal and distant.
The title stings, a deliberate reminder of the distance she’s put between us. But I deserve it.
“Walk with me,” I say, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse races. I don’t command her–I can’t. Instead, I ask, and relief floods me when she hesitates for only a moment before nodding.
We step outside into the gardens behind the center, a space she designed during her leadership. The spring sunshine filters through the trees, casting dappled light on the pathways lined with medicinal herbs and wildflowers. It’s beautiful, peaceful–a reflection of her care and foresight.
I glance at her as we walk, her expression guarded, her steps measured. She’s waiting for me to speak, but she doesn’t make it easy.
Tve been implementing your educational integration program,” I begin awkwardly, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue.” It’s been remarkably successful”
She doesn’t stop walking, but I see the slight shift in her posture, the way her lips press together. “I’m glad it’s benefiting the packs,” she replies, her tone polite but distant.
Her guarded response feels like a wall I can’t climb, but I press on. I can’t let this moment slip away.
“Siena, I say, my voice softer now, “I was wrong about you. About everything*
She slows, turning her head slightly to glance at me. Her amber eyes are sharp, but there’s a flicker of something else there -Curiosity, maybe
I take a deep breath, the weight of what I’m about to say pressing down on me. “I allowed Lila’s manipulation because it confirmed biases I already held. I admit, the words raw and unfiltered. “Fears about vulnerability. About becoming my
father
The confession between us is heavy and unvarnished. I’ve spent so long avoiding this truth, hiding it even from myself, but now it feels like the only thing I have left to give her
She stops walking, turning fully to face me. Her eyes search mine, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of my words. “That awareness comes very late” she says quietly, her voice steady but edged with something sharp. “After irreparable damage”
I flinch, the truth of her words cutting deep. ‘Ik “Do you?”
Successfully unlocked!
“Yes,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I know I can’t undo the pain I caused you. I know I can’t fix what I broke. But I need you to
L
#Chapter 79: The Final Fate
The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have.
She exhales slowly, her expression softening just enough to let me see the exhaustion beneath her composure. “Why does it take losing everything for you to finally see what was in front of you all along?”
Her question hits like a punch to the gut because I don’t have a good answer. All I can do is tell her the truth.
“I was a coward,” I admit. “I was afraid of what it meant to be vulnerable, to rely on you, to let you see all the parts of me I didn’t want to face. It was easier to push you away than to risk letting you in.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, her jaw tightening as she processes my words. When she looks at me again, there’s no anger in her expression, only a deep, quiet sadness.
“I loved you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “I gave you everything I had, Raiden. And you made me feel like it was never enough.”
Her words break something inside me. “It was more than enough,” I say, my voice cracking. “I just didn’t see it. I didn’t see
you.”
“Recognition after the fact doesn’t undo the damage,” she says. “It doesn’t erase the years I spent trying to make you see me, trying to prove my worth to someone who wouldn’t even look at me.”
I’m feeling hollow against the depth of her pain. A shell of an Alpha, let alone a king.
She looks away, her gaze drifting to the gardens around us. “I’ve built a life without you,” she says softly. “I’ve found purpose, strength, and peace. I won’t let you take that from me.”
“I don’t want to take anything from you,” I say quickly. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. For all of it. For not seeing you, for not supporting you, for failing you as a mate and as a partner.”
Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t turn back to me. “I appreciate the apology,” she says after a long pause. “But it doesn’t change anything. It can’t.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I understand.”
She starts to walk away, but I can’t let her go just yet. “Siena,” I call after her.
She stops but doesn’t turn around.
“I hope you…”
She glances over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “Good bye Raiden,” she says simply, before continuing down the path and out of sight.
I stand there for a long time.
Alone.
She’s right. Recognition after the fact doesn’t undo the damage. It doesn’t erase the years of pain and rejection.
But at least now, she knows.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
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