THE ALPHA'S REGRET, MY REVENGE

Another Bond

Morning came gently, in fractured pieces of light that slipped through the warped boards of the hut’s walls.

It was the kind of light that crept in slowly, hesitant to disturb the stillness. Dust drifted lazily in its path, turning the air between us into something soft and golden.

The fire had burned down to embers during the night, a faint glow in the center of the room, its warmth more memory than heat now.

Kade was awake.

I’d felt it before I opened my eyes, not from any sound, but from the steady weight of his presence. He sat near the fire, cross-legged, head bent slightly as he sharpened a blade with slow, even strokes.

The silence between us was thick. Not uncomfortable, but… present. Like it wasn’t just absence of words but a shared pause in which neither of us needed to fill the space.

For the first time in days, my wolf didn’t feel caged. She wasn’t pacing or clawing against the walls of my mind, but she wasn’t buried either. She was watching him, her awareness brushing against mine in quiet acknowledgment.

I studied him from where I sat, my back still against the wall.

The scar on his throat caught the light when he moved, a pale, jagged reminder of something I wanted to ask but didn’t. His hands were steady, his movements purposeful. Every gesture had weight. He didn’t waste motion, didn’t seem the type to waste words either.

He glanced at me once, just briefly, then set the blade aside.

Without speaking, he leaned over the firepit, coaxing the coals back to life with dried kindling from a small leather pouch. The flames caught quickly, orange and gold licking at the shadows.

From the satchel at his side, he pulled out a strip of dried meat and held it toward me.

I hesitated. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but instinct told me not to take anything from someone I didn’t understand.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, his tone flat, as if the thought of tricking me was beneath him.

I reached out and took it anyway, more because I didn’t want to appear afraid than because I trusted him.

The silence stretched again.

Then he spoke, and his voice was low, gravelly, the kind that seemed to cut through the stillness instead of disturbing it.

“Do you feel it too?”

My teeth stilled against the meat. I didn’t answer. Not right away.

The night before still clung to me in fragments, his knock on the door, the way his eyes had found mine in the dark, the strange pull in my chest I’d been trying to dismiss as exhaustion or loneliness.

I told myself that’s all it was. A stranger in a strange place. The smallest ember of comfort when the world had given me none.

But then he said it.

A word that didn’t belong to me anymore.

“Mate.”

I froze.

It wasn’t a claim, not the way Ronan had once looked at me and said the word before shredding it with his rejection. This was softer, slower, almost like a question. A thread tossed between us to see if I’d catch it.

The meat in my hands suddenly tasted like ash.

“You’re delusional,” I said flatly, sharper than I meant to. “I already had a mate.”

“I know,” he said, and something in his tone told me he knew more than I wanted him to.

I pushed to my feet, every muscle in me braced. “The Moon Goddess gives one bond. One. I was rejected. That’s it. End of story.”

He didn’t flinch at my words. Didn’t even blink.

Instead, he said, “That’s the story packs tell themselves. It isn’t the only truth.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine as he spoke, each word deliberate, patient.

“There are wolves born outside your pack laws. Wolves who’ve never bent to a council’s decree, never knelt to an Alpha. The Moon Goddess may choose…” He paused, leaning slightly toward the fire, the light sharpening the lines of his face. “…but the spirit sometimes chooses louder.”

I scoffed. “Spirit?”

He nodded once. “A rogue bond. Rare. Powerful. It doesn’t follow bloodlines or rank. It isn’t about territory. It’s about energy. Soul. It’s older than your pack’s laws and stronger than their politics.”

I wanted to laugh at him, to tell him this was just a story rogues told to make themselves feel chosen. But my wolf stirred again, not with suspicion, not with warning.

With recognition.

A low hum built in my chest, deep and steady. I swallowed hard, pushing it down.

“You expect me to believe that?” I said, folding my arms.

“I expect you to listen to your wolf.”

“My wolf doesn’t…” I started, but stopped. Because she did. She was.

“She knows,” Kade said simply.

Something about the certainty in his tone rattled me more than the word mate had.

The fire crackled between us. He didn’t move closer. Not yet.

Then, slowly, he rose to his feet and stepped forward until only the fire separated us. His gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, like he could wait there all day if he had to.

“I won’t force a bond,” he said finally.

Relief flickered through me..brief, sharp.

“But I won’t lie about what I feel either. And what your wolf already knows.”

He didn’t touch me. Instead, he knelt, pressing one hand to the ground between us. The gesture was simple, but it carried weight, like he was grounding the space with truth neither of us was ready to name.

My hands trembled. My chest felt too tight, every breath an effort. I hated that there was a piece of me..small but stubborn, that wanted to reach out and bridge the space.

Guilt burned through me. For even thinking it. For even feeling this faint ember of hope when I had no right to it.

My wolf’s voice came again, low and certain.

Him.

It shook me.

I stepped back, shaking my head as if I could clear the word from my mind. “No. I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said quietly. “Not now.”

The simplicity of the answer stopped me more than any declaration could have.

I didn’t give him an answer. Couldn’t. Not when my thoughts were a tangle of disbelief, anger, longing, and fear.

The rest of the day passed in silence. He didn’t press. I didn’t ask. We moved around each other like two creatures circling, neither willing to break the fragile truce.

That night, the wind howled against the hut, rattling the old wood. The fire burned low, throwing just enough light to catch the edges of his profile where he lay, eyes closed.

I told myself I didn’t care if he slept. I told myself I didn’t care that I was watching.

But as the hours bled together, I found myself wondering..

Could fate be rewritten?

Could a heart, broken and rejected, still choose again?

I didn’t know.

But my wolf was watching.

Waiting.