The Alpha King’s Last Regret

9

Pearl Gem

The sky was still a pale, innocent blue that dawn when my cellphone began to ring. An early call was almost unheard of because no one in my sparse contact list would never want to hear an Omega’s voice first thing in the morning as it is said to bring bad luck.

For a moment I simply stared at the glowing screen, wondering whether to answer or let it fade into silence. Curiosity won. I stretched across tangled sheets, picked the phone off the dresser, and slid my thumb across the glass.

“Hello?” I muttered, voice soft with sleep.

“Hi.”

Time stopped, suspended like dust motes in a shaft of morning light because I recognized that deep, husky timbre instantly. The Alpha King of the Wolf Empire seldom spoke to anyone without layers of intermediaries, yet here he was, his breath still thick with sleep, reaching me directly. My stomach fluttered, equal parts dread and something dangerously close to anticipation.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, quiet and possessive, as though the question itself were an intimate claim.

I shook my head even though he couldn't see the gesture. The motion felt necessary, grounding.

“No, Your Majesty,” I whispered, forcing steadiness.

“Hmm.” He exhaled, a ragged, barely leashed sound that vibrated along my spine. “My schedule today is suffocatingly tight so I wouldn’t be able to come check on you. How about tomorrow?”

For what felt like an eternity, I didn’t speak. I only lay there in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering if I’d heard him right.

Did the King of the Wolf Empire, Kade King, just casually tell me his schedule? As if we were… involved? As if it meant something?

“You don’t need to tell me all of this, Your Majesty,” I replied at last, my voice sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped coming here. Only the goddess knows what else I will have to cry over this time.”

Silence. Heavy. Unmoving.

Then, finally, his voice came, low and calm, but with that dark edge I now recognized too well.

“The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be for you. I have already told you. I want you. This time… for myself.”

A lump rose in my throat at the way he said it… like I was a possession. A prize.

But I forced it down.

“And I said no,” I gritted out. “I’m not your pawn anymore, Your Majesty. You can find someone else to ruin. Goodbye.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

“You really want me to kill someone?”

The threat dropped like ice into my veins.

“Your Majesty…” I murmured, stunned, my voice barely a whisper.

“I will see you tomorrow. That’s final.”

The line went dead.

And I was left staring at the blank space, heart pounding, breath uneven, trying to figure out whether I was more furious… or afraid… But wait a second, Why did his dawn rough voice curl heat beneath my skin? Why did a single call make me feel both hunted and cherished? Dangerous illusions, I shoved them aside, swung my legs off the bed, and forced myself into motion.

Routine will keep his thoughts away. In Mom's old room the air smelled of lavender and old wood polish. I knelt before the small memorial altar I’d built after the fire, lit a stub of white candle, and whispered a prayer for courage, for clarity, for the resilience to endure whatever the next ninety days brought.

Outside, dew silvered every blade of grass. I carried the watering can to the backyard, my slippers soaking through as I walked the neat rows of flowers. The blooms were riotous this season, dusky pinks, bruised purples, hopeful yellows are thriving despite the poverty that pressed on the rest of the Omega Ghetto..

Movement tugged at the edges of my vision all of a sudden. More omegas than usual milled about. Hanging laundry, sweeping porches, fetching water but every time I turned, eyes skittered away, and sharp whispers died mid breath. Of course they stared; everyone knew the story of my fall. Five years ago I'd dared to dream above my station, dared to believe I might matter to a prince. That sin had cost my family everything.

I almost smiled, bitter and small. Let them gossip; I had no innocence left to lose, no reputation worth guarding. The Luna Queen had already branded me a cautionary tale, and the Alpha King, whether he knew it or not, was now part of my revenge.

“I will take some blossoms to Bright today,” I murmured, clipping a few vibrant stems. The thought of my little brother’s grin steadied me.

An engine purred at the curb at that moment. Royce's car rolled to a stop. He stepped out, shoulders tense beneath a plain work shirt, and headed for his door without a glance in my direction.

“I will make breakfast,” He said, voice tight, before disappearing inside.

I finished watering, bathed quickly, braided my short hair, and chose a modest dress the color of dusk. Tucking the flowers into a small jar, I crossed the gravel path to the Yallas' home. Mrs. Yalla never locked the door against me; the latch clicked softly as I stepped in.

“Morning, Mr. Yalla,” I called. He sat in his frayed recliner, newspaper spread like a shield, and he acknowledged me with a distracted nod.

Mrs. Yalla emerged from the hallway, steam curling from her teacup. She wore worry like a shawl.

“Pearl.”

“Good morning, Mother,” I said, a title birthed from love rather than blood. She stare at me in silence for a while and then she says,

“Be safe, child.” Her voice was a tremor.

“I will.”

In the kitchen, Royce diced onions with ruthless precision. The quiet smelled of herbs and simmering broth.

“Night shift?” I asked. He nodded.

“And straight into a morning shift?” Another terse nod, eyes fixed on the cutting board.

“Royce?” My voice cracked.

He turned, and for a heartbeat his ocean blue gaze burned with a hurt fiercer than anger. Royce had always carried an impossible grace for an omega, broad shouldered, steady, loyal t me but when wounded he could look like a cornered wolf. A man too handsome to be called a servant.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted. “But I'm all right.”

“You are not,” He said, quiet steel. “Why does he appear the second he returns from Moonspire Citadel?”

I blinked.

“Moonspire Citadel? He wasn't in the castle all this time?”

Royce ignored the question altogether.

“Do you still love him?” He asked instead, his voice low, steady. “After what he’s done to you? To Bright? To mother… father?”

The world narrowed, folding in on the space between us.

Memories surged. Stolen laughter, whispered promises, the sharp sting of betrayal.

“No,” I said, the word falling heavy as stone. “You know I don’t.”

“Then why is he back?” Royce pressed. “To do more damage?”

“So it seems,” I murmured. “But… I will be fine, Royce. I promise.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” I forced a smile, soft but steady. “And if I’m ever not… I will come straight to you.”

This time, his lips tugged into a genuine grin, brighter than I’d seen in a long time.

“Good.”