Alpha's Worthless Remorse

Now was not the time to burn bridges. My father and brothers had died fighting the Rogues, leaving my uncle to seize power and become the Alpha of my homeland, the Lotus Pack. Reclaiming what was once mine would not be easy.

In the dead of night, I contacted my maid and instructed her to reach out to the Alpha King of Southspire, Ansel Grey. He had been a close friend of my father's for many years. If anyone would understand my intentions, it was him.

Lately, I had been spending less time with Jacob, preoccupied with making secret arrangements for my departure. He must have feared I was holding a grudge over our last confrontation, as he had invited me to his council chamber several times.

I remembered that my father's spear still lay there, so I finally accepted his latest invitation.

I hadn't informed him in advance, so when I arrived, Jacob appeared startled.

"You—why are you here?" he stammered, his voice unusually tense.

I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you invite me? Or am I not welcome?"

"N-No, it's just—I wasn't expecting you." He stood hastily, smoothing the crumpled hem of his robe, his movements stiff and awkward.

A faint noise drifted up from beneath his desk. I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer.

To my disbelief, Hazel emerged from under the table, brushing dust from her sleeves.

A surge of heat rushed to my head. "What—what were you two doing?"

"She was just picking something up for me," Jacob blurted out.

"That's right," Hazel echoed softly, her delicate frame trembling as she adjusted her disheveled clothes. "I was only helping Alpha Jacob retrieve something."

"Do I look like a fool to you?" My voice trembled with barely contained fury.

But Jacob barely seemed to register my anger. A wave of pain must have struck him then—the shaman's potion was taking effect. His face contorted in agony. His hands started twitching as if his body were tearing itself apart.

Perhaps it was the pain that frayed his patience. His voice, when he spoke again, was louder, more cutting.

"How much longer are you going to act so unreasonable?" he snapped. "I told you—I love you! Can't you give me even a shred of trust?"

"Spare me the sweet words," I said coldly. "Where is my father's spear?"

He faltered. "Your father's spear? Why do you—"

"Is it the one Alpha Jacob gifted me?" Hazel interrupted, her tone feigning innocence.

The blood in my veins boiled. He had given away the spear my father left me—to his mistress.

My eyes turned blood red with rage, and the wolf blood in my body stirred violently. My voice dropped into a growl.

"Give it back to me. Now."

I lunged toward her without waiting for an answer. Hazel shrieked and scrambled behind Jacob.

"Alpha, please! Save me! I'm carrying your child!"

Jacob instinctively shielded her with his body, his expression a mix of panic and resolve. Though he was usually formidable, the shaman's potion left him clumsy and off-balance. Still, his reflexes remained fast enough.

His fist struck me hard in the side.

Pain exploded through my body. I staggered backward as blood seeped through my clothes.

It was the same place where an old wound lingered—a wound only someone who knew me intimately could exploit.

And Jacob, of all people, had chosen to strike there.