#Chapter 98: Isolation
(Raiden POV)
The Alpha’s cabin is perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking territones that stretch beyond what the eye can perceive.
Built by my great–grandfather from trees felled during the Great Winter, its massive timber walls have withstood pack wars, territorial disputes, and the passing of generations.
Now it serves as my self–imposed prison
Days since I last appeared at pack meetings. Existing in a twilight state, neither fully me nor wolf
Darkness presses against the windows, night having fallen hours ago, while I remained unmoved before the dying fire. The embers glow weakly, casting strange shadows across the stone hearth where countless Alphas before me contemplated
their choices.
A half–empty bottle of wolfsbane whisky–the only liquor potent enough to affect our kind–sits on the rough–hewn table beside me
The smell is acrid, burning my nostrils with each swallow, yet I welcome the momentary distraction from the constant ache
in my chest
Siena’s words replay in an endless loop, each repetition carving deeper grooves into my consciousness.
“She never loved you, Raiden. Not the way I did.”
Past tense. Did.
The wooden floorboards creak as I rise, muscles stiff from hours of stillness. Moving to the window, I press my forehead against the cold glass, watching my breath create fleeting patches of fog that expand and contract with each exhale
Far below, the lights of the pack compound twinkle like earthbound stars.
Life continues without pause, the machine of pack governance functioning in my absence.
Do they miss their Alpha? Or has Zion smoothly stepped into the void there too?
The thought sends a surge of territorial rage through my blood, hot and primal. My claws extend involuntarily, scraping against the window frame with a sound that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“You transferred your obsession from her to me without missing a beat.”
Was Siena right? Did I merely redirect the same controlling impulses from Lila to her, never actually changing, never growing?
Lila.
The name still holds power, though not the same desperate yearning it once evoked.
Now it carries the bitter tang of failure.
The whisky burns a path down my throat as I drain what remains in the glass.
Outside, the moon hangs nearly full in the ink–black sky, three–quarters of its face mocking me. A wolf howls in the distance–one of the pack’s sentries making their rounds.
The sound resonates in my chest, stirring my wolf to restless pacing beneath my skin.
He wants to run, to hunt, to escape the confines of consciousness and emotion, to lose ourselves in primitive instinct rather than confront the wreckage of what we’ve built and destroyed.
But I cannot will it.
Was driving Lila away a mistake? The question slips through defenses weakened by whisky and isolation.
With her, at least the dynamics were clear–her manipulation against my devotion, a twisted dance where both partners knew the steps. With Siena, everything blurred: duty and desire, protection and possession, leadership and control.
The bottle shatters in my grip, glass shards embedding in my palm as blood drips onto the wooden floor. The pain barely registers, nothing compared to the constant ache of loss.
Leaning against the rough–hewn railing, I lift my wounded hand to examine the damage. The cuts have already begun to heal, regeneration pushing glass fragments out a new ech farms
If only emotional wounds mended with such e Successfully unlocked!
I retreat into the cabin’s shadowy interior.
Jose.
The fire has died completely now, leaving only cold ash in the hearth. A fitting metaphor for what remains of my life.
(Siena POV)
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#Chapter 98 Isolation
The pack library smells of aged parchment and cedarwood, a scent that has always comforted even in turbulent times. Preparations for tomorrow’s charity council meeting demand attention, yet my thoughts refuse to focus, dufting consistently to the same subject–the notable absence of our Alpha.
It’s been since Raiden disappeared into self–imposed isolation.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Rairity’s voice breaks through my reverie, her scent–wildflowers and fresh bread- reaching me before I look up.
My oldest friend within the pack slides into the chair opposite mine, pushing a stening mug of herbal tea across the polished surface. Chamomile and valerian root, steeped with honey. The aroma rises in fragrant tendnis, a peace offering! don’t deserve.
“That obvious?” Attempting a smile that feels more like a grimace. The library’s high ceiling captures my sigh, amplifying it slightly before absorbing it into the timeless quiet.
“Only to someone who’s known you since you were a gangly pup climbing trees to escape dancing lessons.”
“The severance ritual is tomorrow night.” The words emerge barely above a whisper, as though speaking them might accelerate their manifestation. “The pack healer came to prepare me this morning”
Rairity’s sharp intake of breath sends ripples across the surface of her untouched tea. “So you’re really going through with it.”
Not a question. An observation laced with disbelief.
My fingers trace the edge of an ancient map spread across the table–territorial boundaries established centuries ago, many now obsolete or redrawn through bloodshed and alliance, much like the boundaries within my own heart, no longer clearly defined.
“What choice do I have?” The question emerges more vulnerable than intended, betraying the doubt that has taken root alongside righteous anger. “He made his position clear.”
“Did he?” she leans forward, her voice dropping lower despite the library’s emptiness. “Or did you both speak from wounded pride rather than truth?”
The accusation stings precisely because it carries fragments of truth I’m not ready to examine.
My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, confused by the contradiction between determination and primal instinct. “You didn’t hear the things he said.” Defensive heat rises to my cheeks. “He accused me of manipulation, of using him, of being worse than Lila.”
Rairity expression softens, compassion replacing judgment. “Words spoken in pain, by a man who’s never learned how to process emotions beyond anger and control.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She reaches across the table, her fingers cool against my feverish skin. “Nothing excuses how he treated you, Siena. Not his past with Lila, not his position as Alpha, nothing.”
“But,” she continues, her grip tightening slightly on my wrist, “severing a mate bond isn’t like dissolving a political alliance. The ritual will tear away pieces of your soul. Sometimes those pieces never grow back.”
The warning sends a chill down my spine despite the warm spring air flowing through the open windows.
Stories of wolves driven to madness after severance rituals–hollow–eyed shadows of their former selves, neither fully alive nor mercifully dead–have circulated through pack lore for generations.
It never comes back.
“I know the risks.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel, practiced from repeating this assertion to the concerned pack healer this morning.
“Do you?” Rairity’s challenge is gentle but unyielding. “Because I’ve watched you these past three days, Siena. You’re not sleeping. Barely eating. Starting at shadows and flinching when anyone mentions his name.”
“What are you saying?” The question emerges rough–edged, caught in a throat suddenly tight with unnamed emotion.
“I’m saying that despite everything–despite his control and his failure to see you fully, despite the hurt and the justified anger–part of you still cares for him.”
“Caring isn’t enough.” The words emerge soft but determined. “Not when he sees me as a replacement for what he coun’t have. Not when he questions my integrity, my motives. Not when he tries to control rather than support.”
Rairity expression shifts, wisdom beyond her years surfacing in her eyes. “Then perhaps what you need isn’t severance, but space. Time to grow into yourself without his shadow looming over you.”
“Zion has offered me that.” The words slip out before considering their implications. “A position with the Interpack Coalition, leading the refugee resettlement program. Complete autonomy, resources, respect.”
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#Chapter 98 Isolation
“And what does Zion want in return?”
The question mirrors my own suspicions, giving voice to doubts I’ve tried to silence. The library suddenly feels less de, as though the ancient books themselves listen for my answer
“He says he believes in the work.” Defensive again, though unsure why her question raises my hackles to my capabilities “I’m sure he does. Her tone remains carefully neutral. “Zion has always had exceptional vision”
“You don’t trust him.” The realization emerges as a statement rather than a question
“I trust that he acts in what he perceives as his best interests. Her answer comes measured, diplomatic “Whether those align with yours long–term remains to be seen”
The distant sound of the pack hom draws our attention–a single, sustained note signaling the changing of the guard “What should I do?” the question emerges unbidden, exposing my vulnerability to the one person who has never judged me
for it.
Rainity’s smile holds sadness and affection in equal measure. “Focus on your own growth, not Raider’s fallunes or Zionis ambitions. Don’t let either of them define who you become.”
The simplicity of her advice resonates through chambers of my heart I thought permanently closed My wolf setties slightly, recognizing wisdom that transcends politics and pride.
“And the severance ritual?” The words catch in my throat, the reality of tomorrow night’s ceremony suddenly more terrifying than liberating.
“Only you can decide if that bond is truly beyond repair.” She squeezes my hand once more before releasing it. “But remember–some choices, once made, cannot be unmade. Some wounds never fully heal, especially those we fict in the name of freedom.”
Remember, it doesn’t grow back.
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#Chapter 99 True intentions
#Chapter 99: True Intentions
(Siena)
