Don't Go, I Regret

Grace, the golden child as a Beta's daughter, defied all expectations by choosing Ethan—the disgraced Alpha's son—even after he inadvertently caused her father's death. She stood by him, pulling him from the depths of despair. But when Ethan finally annihilated the rival pack responsible for his own father's murder and brought back their Alpha's daughter, Caroline, his vengeance spiraled into madness. Now, Grace must face the harrowing truth: can she still love the man who has become a monster?

: Victory’s Spoils

Smoke curled behind Ethan like a trailing flag of vengeance. In one hand, he held the severed wolf-head banner of Shadowhowl. In the other, Caroline’s iron chains dragged across the dirt, each clink drawing murmurs from Ironclaw’s gathered ranks.

“Let them see,” he growled. “Let them remember.”

Grace stood beside him, her arms wrapped tightly around their son. Johnson squirmed, restless from the noise, but Grace’s gaze never left Ethan. There was something in his eyes—something too sharp, too cold.

An elder stepped forward, silver whiskers twitching. “Alpha Ethan, is this the woman who betrayed you?”

“She is,” Ethan answered, voice booming. “Caroline of Shadowhowl, who seduced me to steal Ironclaw’s defenses, who killed my father with lies and ash.”

Caroline lifted her chin, face bruised but defiant. “You believed what you wanted to believe, Ethan. I only whispered what your pride craved to hear.”

A collective snarl rippled through the pack.

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “You’ll regret your final words.”

Grace stepped forward, tone calm but firm. “Ethan, we have won. Shadowhowl is dust. Must we humiliate her further before our people?”

Ethan turned to her slowly. “Humiliation? No, Grace. This is justice.”

Grace’s voice barely rose, but it cut deep. “Justice isn’t vengeance soaked in blood. Not in front of our son.”

He looked down at the toddler cradled in her arms. Johnson’s small hands reached for the shattered banner, unaware of its meaning.

Ethan exhaled through his nose. “Bring her to the feast hall. Let every wolf see what betrayal earns.”

---

Torches bathed the great hall in flickering gold. Wolves crowded the tables, raising mugs and chanting songs of victory.

Grace stood near the high table, holding Johnson close, watching Ethan from the shadows.

“Don’t you think this is enough?” she whispered to Beta Aldric, seated beside her.

Aldric grimaced. “Alpha’s anger runs deep, Luna. But it will pass.”

Grace wasn’t so sure.

From the center of the room, Ethan raised his mug. “Brothers, sisters! Tonight, we eat and drink not just for victory—but for justice fulfilled!” He gestured sharply, and guards shoved Caroline forward. “The traitor will serve tonight’s feast with her own hands.”

Gasps echoed. Then laughter. Then cheering.

Caroline stumbled, still bound at the wrists. A warrior dumped a jug of ale on her head. Another jeered, “Maybe you’ll seduce a dish this time!”

Grace flinched.

Ethan didn’t.

As Caroline knelt to gather spilled platters, Grace approached Ethan quietly. “Please. This isn’t who we swore to be.”

“She deserves worse.”

“She deserves a trial. Not this... spectacle.”

“She killed my father.”

Grace’s voice broke. “And I stood beside you when no one else did. When the whole pack turned against you.”

Ethan’s expression flickered, then hardened. “And I won them back. Not with forgiveness, but with strength.”

Grace stared at him, stunned. “This is what strength looks like to you?”

He drained his mug. “Strength is remembering pain. And making sure it never returns.”

---

After midnight, the feast died down. Drunken warriors slumped over tables. Only the dying embers crackled.

Grace slipped out into the courtyard, Johnson finally asleep in her arms.

A faint sob echoed from the shadows.

She followed the sound to the side of the training yard. There, Caroline sat on the cold stone, bleeding from a cut on her lip, her wrists red from chains.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Caroline murmured without looking up. “He’ll think you pity me.”

“I’m not here for him.” Grace knelt, setting Johnson in his wrap. She reached into her pocket for a cloth and gently dabbed at Caroline’s wounds.

Caroline flinched. “Why help me?”

“Because you’re bleeding. And because I don’t recognize the man I married tonight.”

Caroline looked at her, surprised. “You think he still loves you?”

“I think he’s forgotten who he was,” Grace said softly. “And I don’t know if I can remind him.”

For a moment, they sat in silence. The moon rose high, red and full like an omen.

Caroline’s voice was a whisper. “He’s changed, Grace. You know that.”

Grace met her eyes. “So have I.”

She stood, brushing her cloak back into place. As she turned to leave, Caroline said one final thing.

“He still comes to me.”

Grace froze.

“What?”

Caroline stared straight ahead. “Even if he lies to you, he tells me the truth.”

Grace’s hands clenched around Johnson’s wrap.

“You should sleep,” she said coldly. “Tomorrow, I’ll remind him what truth costs.”