Alpha's Regret After She Kneels novel Chapter 112

#Chapter 112: The Turning Point

(Siena POV)

The evening air wraps around me like a cool blanket as I sit on the settlement’s eastern overlook, watching the sun’s last rays paint the valley below in shades of amber and gold.

My fingers trace the rough texture of the wooden bench beneath me, weathered by seasons of rain and sun. Like me, I think wryly. Weathered by storms I never saw coming.

The council session today had been brutal.

Raiden’s desperate moves, the elders‘ unprecedented challenge to his authority, and the palpable shift in pack dynamics reverberate through the mate bond like distant thunder.

Zion’s gentle touch on my hand. A very public display that even now, I can’t decide if it’s good or bad.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply to center myself in this moment of rare solitude.

For weeks, every second has been consumed by crisis management–fighting Raiden’s restrictions, protecting the settlement, navigating the complicated dance with Zion, whose past mistakes and present loyalty have become tools in a power struggle I never wanted.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Zion’s voice breaks through my reverie. His approach is so quiet that I haven’t noticed him until he speaks. He carries two steaming mugs, and the spicy scent of mulled cider reaches me before he does.

I accept the offered drink with a small smile, warming my hands against the ceramic. “The elders say that’s my perpetual flaw. Too much thinking, not enough instinct.”

He settles beside me on the bench, leaving careful space between us. His silver hair catches the dying light, creating a halo effect that softens his usually sharp features.

The steam from his mug curls upward, momentarily obscuring his face before dissipating into the cooling evening air. “They say the same about me,” he replies, his voice carrying a warmth that has become familiar in these past months of working closely together. “Though after today, perhaps thinking before acting isn’t such a terrible quality.”

I take a sip of cider, letting the warm spices–cinnamon, clove, a hint of ginger–linger on my tongue before swallowing.” Raiden lost control today. I’ve never seen him like that, not even in our worst arguments.”

I push the awareness of Raiden away, focusing instead on the physical reality of this moment–the solid bench beneath me, the cooling breeze raising goosebumps on my arms, the man beside me whose presence has become a constant in a world of shifting certainties.

On Zion.

“He’s backed himself into a corner,” Zion observes, his gaze following mine across the settlement below where lamps are being lit one by one, pinpricks of gold in the deepening blue twilight. “Every tactic he’s tried has failed–discrediting the settlement, restricting resources, revealing my past-”

“Using me as a pawn in a power struggle that stopped being about governance long ago,” I finish for him, bitterness seeping into my voice despite efforts to maintain the calm I’ve fought so hard to project publicly.

Zion turns toward me, his eyes reflecting the last light of day. “Is that what you believe? That this is merely about power?” My wolf stirs beneath my skin, suddenly alert in a way that has nothing to do with territorial threats or pack politics.

“I think it began about principles–different visions for what the pack could be,” I answer slowly, choosing words with care.” But somewhere along the way, it became personal in ways I’m still trying to understand.”

A nightbird calls from the forest edge, its lonely song echoing across the valley now shrouded in deepening shadow.

The first stars appear overhead, faint pinpricks of light against darkening blue.

I feel suspended between day and night, between past and future, between the mate bond still pulsing in my chest and the new connection forming beside me despite all attempts to keep emotional distance.

“He loves you still,” Zion says quietly, the simple truth somehow more powerful for his willingness to acknowledge it.” Beneath the anger, the control, the desperate tactics–the bond remains.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly. “A bond built on ownership rather than partnership isn’t love,” I reply, repeating words I’ve told myself countless times through sleepless nights when the mate bond pulses with emotions too complex to ignore. What Raiden wants isn’t me–it’s the idea of me. The Luna who complements his vision rather than challenges it.”

“And what do you want, Siena?” Zion asks, his voice barely above a whisper yet somehow filling the space between us completely.

The question catches me off guard, simple yet profound in ways I haven’t allowed myself to consider while fighting daily battles for the settlement’s survival. What do I want–beyond policy victories or governance reforms or the practical needs

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#Chapter 112: The Turning Point

of those depending on me?

“I want…” I begin, then pause as unexpected emotion wells in my throat.

The cider’s steam fades as the mug cools in my hands, the moment stretching as I search for honesty I’ve denied even to myself.

“I want to build something meaningful. I want to lead from conviction rather than tradition. I want to be valued for my vision, not just tolerated for my position.”

I turn to face him fully, finding courage in the gathering darkness that somehow makes vulnerability easier.

“I want a connection that strengthens rather than constrains. Partnership without possession. Trust earned through actions rather than assumed through ceremony.”

My wolf surges forward at these words, her approval vibrating through me with unexpected intensity.

For months, she has been evaluating Zion. She is cautious after the betrayal of our mate and unwilling to trust easily again. Now she makes her assessment known with clarity that takes my breath away–acceptance, approval, desire for connection with this silver wolf whose strength complements our own rather than seeking to contain it.

Zion’s expression changes subtly as he senses my wolf’s response, his own barely contained beneath form.

The air between us charges with awareness, transcending physical attraction or political alliance–wolves recognizing potential connection beyond considerations or social complications.

He sees me.

“The council vote today represents more than a policy victory,” he says, visibly struggling to maintain focus on the pack matters rather than personal dimensions suddenly impossible to ignore.

“The elders have opened possibility for governance evolution beyond traditional Alpha determination. Your vision for balanced leadership has found root in unexpected places.”

“Which is why tonight matters,” Zion replies, setting his mug on the ground beside the bench and turning to face me fully.

The movement brings his scent to me more strongly–winter pine, frost, and something uniquely him that my

wolf recognizes with increasing interest. “One moment of peace amid the chaos. One conversation not dominated by crisis or conflict.”

His hand rests on the bench between us, palm upward–an invitation without demand, presence offered without expectation.

The simple gesture embodies everything that has drawn me to him despite all attempts to maintain emotional distance- strength without domination, support without control, attention without possession.

When my fingers finally meet his, the contact sends warmth spreading up my arm that has nothing to do with the evening’s cooling temperature.

His hand cradles mine with gentle pressure that somehow grounds me more firmly in this moment than hours of meditation could achieve.