#Chapter 83. The Impossible
#Chapter 83: The Impossible
(Raiden’s POV)
The instant Zion utters Siena’s name, something dark and primal explodes to life inside me.
I’m standing by the window of my office, staring out at the twilight shadows creeping slowly across Windhowl, when he casually, confidently announces his intentions–words that slice through me like a blade.
“I’m going to court Siena once she returns,” Zion says, his voice calmly resolute, as if stating a simple fact rather than igniting a spark that could burn everything between us. “She deserves someone who appreciates her”
My fingers tightened on the window ledge, and my knuckles turned white. Horace snarls deep within me, hackles raised, furious at the mere thought of Siena with another male.
“Who does he think he is?”
Possessiveness coils hot and tight in my chest, sharp and merciless, even as my rational mind fights against it, stubbornly denying the truth.
“Horace, enough.”
I turn slowly, forcing my expression into a practiced neutrality, even as my heart pounds violently beneath my ribs.
Zion stands calmly at my desk, shoulders squared, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. For a moment, I see the boy from my past–the loyal friend who stood by me through countless battles, triumphs, and losses. Yet now, as I look at him, he appears only as a rival, a threat to the mate I once so carelessly rejected.
Traitor.
“That’s impossible,” I say coldly, my voice dangerously low. “It’s inappropriate. Siena is the former Luna of this pack. Courting her would complicate pack politics unnecessarily.”
Zion’s eyes narrow slightly.
He knows me too well to be fooled by my carefully maintained coldness. “This isn’t about politics, Raiden. It never was. Siena deserves happiness, and you forfeited your right to decide who gives it to her.”
Anger surges hotly through my veins, pride clashing violently with possessiveness.
The growls are getting deeper, fangs bared. “We both know what belongs to us. Why do you hesitate? The path forward is clear – take it! Claim what is rightfully yours!”
“No. Horace, I can’t… I won’t. Even if it means standing alone, my pride won’t let me admit I was wrong.”
Horace circles impatiently. “Your pride? Your pride is nothing but chains you’ve forged yourself. I can smell your desire beneath that facade.
Fists tightening, I’m losing control. “Better these chains than surrender. Some wounds cut too deep to simply forget.”
Horace huffs, “Denial doesn’t change truth. It only prolongs your suffering… and mine.
“This has nothing to do with Siena,” I say through clenched teeth, lying blatantly, unconvincingly. I swallow hard, forcing calm into my voice, even as my heart races with panicked fury. “I’ve already forgotten about her.”
Zion scoffs openly, disbelief etched clearly across his features. “Forgotten her? You lie to yourself, Raiden. But don’t insult me by lying to my face.”
I step forward sharply, closing the distance between us in two strides.
My wolf bristles, urging aggression, violence, dominance–anything to silence the unbearable truth in his words. “Watch yourself, Zion,” I warn quietly, my voice edged with dark promise. “You overstep.”
He doesn’t flinch.
Instead, Zion squares his shoulders, chin raised defiantly. “You don’t intimidate me, Alpha. Not anymore. I stood by while you destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you, but I won’t stay silent anymore. Siena is free, and if she’ll have me, m going to court her openly.”
A red haze clouds my vision, and jealousy is blazing hot and savage inside me.
My instinct screams to challenge him, to fight and defeat him, reasserting dominance and ownership. Horace howls wildly, demanding action, demanding blood. I struggle fiercely against the impulse, my heart thundering, and pride battling desperately against the truth I refuse to face.
“You leave me no choice,” I growl softly, voice roughened with suppressed rage.
My hands tremble with the force of my emotions, anger and possessiveness tangling chaotically within me. 1 challenge you, Zion. Traditional wolf duel. If you insist on pursuing Siena, you must defeat me first.”
Trail by death.
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#Chapter 83: The Impossible
Shock flickers briefly across his face, quickly replaced by steely resolve. He nods slowly, accepting the gravity of my declaration. “Very well. If this is how we settle things, so be it, oh great Alpha King.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I feel a sharp pang of regret pierce my chest.
How did we come to this, Zion and I? Lifelong friends, now torn apart by jealousy, pride, and my own stubborn denial.
Before either of us can speak again, a quiet, faint scent drifts through the open doorway–familiar and hauntingly sweet.
Siena.
My blood turns to ice in my veins, and my heart plummets with sudden dread. Slowly, I glance toward the doorway, my breath catching painfully in my throat.
Siena stands frozen there, her amber eyes wide and filled with an agony that cuts deep into my soul. She heard everything -my cold dismissal, my cruel declaration.
“Siena,” I whisper hoarsely, desperation clawing at my chest.
What are you doing here?
She meets my gaze for a fleeting moment, pain flickering raw and unshielded across her beautiful features. Then she turns sharply, disappearing quickly down the corridor before I can move or speak again.
The sight of her pain shatters something deep within me, leaving me hollow and breathless, drowning in guilt and self- loathing. Zion watches silently, expression unreadable, before quietly slipping from the room, leaving me alone in suffocating silence.
I sink numbly into my chair, burying my face in my hands, fighting the overwhelming wave of remorse crashing violently through me. Horace whines mournfully, desperate for the mate we’ve wounded yet again through stubborn pride and denial.
Alone, finally, and in the quiet darkness of my quarters, memories flood my mind relentlessly, each one sharper and more painful than the last.
I recall every moment with Siena–her gentle laughter, her quiet strength, the warmth of her touch, which I once took for granted.
I see now, clearly and painfully, how thoroughly I misjudged her–how cruelly blind I’d been to her worth, her strength, her quiet dignity. I recall every moment I dismissed her, every cruel word spoken in prideful ignorance, every silent wound inflicted.
My indifference.
Horace gives me no peace, pacing restlessly within me, aching fiercely for Siena. The realization hits me brutally: I love her. Deeply, irrevocably, desperately. I love Siena, and I may have lost her forever.
The thought sends sharp panic slicing through me, heart pounding wildly, fear choking me.
My pride struggles fiercely, resisting vulnerability and admission of my deepest truth.
“You’re hiding again, Raiden. I can smell the deception you wrap around yourself like armor. This isn’t the path of strength.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You think I can’t sense your turmoil? Your hesitation. The truth doesn’t care about your comfort.”
My shoulders slump slightly.
“What good would it do now? Some bridges stay burned.”
“Your pride, Raiden, is a poor companion for the long winter ahead. Face what you’ve been running from. Make it right.” “You never give up, do you?”
“Horace huffs with finality. Not when it matters. Not when it’s you.”
I rise slowly, moving to my desk. My fingers tremble slightly as I open the hidden drawer, carefully retrieving a small velvet box tucked away.
My heart clenches painfully as I gently open the lid, revealing the ceremonial rings nestled inside–rings I never had the courage to offer her, too blinded by pride and arrogance to recognize their true value.
I run my fingers softly over the delicate metal, feeling a profound ache bloom sharply in my chest. These rings represent everything I lost–everything I threw away so carelessly.
A quiet, desperate hope stirs tentatively within me, fragile yet undeniable.
Is it too late?
Could Siena ever forgive me, after everything I’ve done?
Or is she lost forever, driven away by my stubborn pride?
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#Chapter 83: The Impossible
Fear holds me frozen; uncertainty grips me painfully. I’ve hurt Siena so deeply, wounding her in ways I can’t repair with mere apologies.
How could I ever hope to earn her forgiveness, her trust, and her love?
Yet, beneath the fear, beneath the doubt, something stronger stirs–determination, fierce and resolute. If there’s even the smallest chance to win her back, to heal the wounds I’ve caused, I must take it.
Zion was right, no matter how much it infuriates me. Siena deserves effort, humility, genuine repentance–not empty pride or cold denial.
I close the velvet box carefully, determination solidifying inside me.
Tomorrow, I’ll find her.
Tomorrow, I’ll confront my mistakes openly, honestly, without pride or pretension.
Tomorrow, I’ll fight with everything I possess–heart, soul, wolf–to earn back the mate I’ve foolishly lost.
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