Alpha’s Redemption

The Depth of Pain

When I woke up, the pain hit me all over again. It was like waking from a nightmare, only to find that the horror was real and inescapable. The severed mate bond had left a gaping wound inside me, one that bled with every breath, every heartbeat.

My body felt heavy, weighted down by the emptiness where Dorian’s presence used to be. The bond that had once hummed with warmth and connection was gone, replaced by a cold, aching void. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, her grief a low, mournful sound that mirrored my own.

I sat up slowly, the room spinning around me. My stomach churned, and my head throbbed as though I’d been through a physical battle. Maybe I had. The mate bond wasn’t just emotional—it was a tether that connected two souls, and its severance felt like being torn in half.

My hand trembled as I reached for the glass of water on my nightstand. The liquid sloshed over the rim as I brought it to my lips, but even the small sip felt like too much. I set the glass down, my hands shaking.

“Why?” I whispered to no one, my voice raw. “Why did he do this?”

My wolf growled weakly in response. Because he’s weak. Because he’s a fool.

But that didn’t answer the question burning in my chest. I’d trusted Dorian, believed in the bond we shared. How could he throw it all away? How could he choose Isla—my sister, of all people?

The thought of them together sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me. I curled up on the bed, clutching my stomach as if I could hold myself together.

I didn’t leave my room that day. Or the next.

The packhouse bustled with its usual energy, voices echoing through the halls, but I stayed locked away, the sounds muffled through the door. I couldn’t face anyone—not my parents, not the pack, and certainly not Dorian. I didn’t want their pity or their whispers.

I lost track of time as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind replayed the scene over and over, torturing me with the memory of Dorian and Isla tangled together. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if he had ever truly loved me.

Had he kissed her the same way he used to kiss me? Had he whispered the same sweet promises in her ear?

The questions clawed at me, each one a fresh wound.

By the third day, my wolf’s sorrow began to shift. Her mournful whimpers grew quieter, replaced by a low, simmering growl. The ache in my chest didn’t lessen, but it changed. It wasn’t just pain anymore—it was anger.

We were supposed to be his everything, my wolf snarled. And he threw us away.

I sat up slowly, her rage sparking something inside me. My fingers curled into fists, my nails biting into my palms.

“He didn’t deserve us,” I murmured, the words foreign and hesitant on my tongue.

No, he didn’t, my wolf agreed. But he will regret losing us.

The thought sent a flicker of heat through me, a faint ember in the ashes of my despair.

By the fourth day, I had finally left my room. My legs felt weak, and my reflection in the mirror startled me. My skin was pale, my eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. I looked like a ghost.

I didn’t bother trying to fix myself up. What was the point? I pulled on a loose sweater and jeans, not caring how I looked, and stepped into the hallway.

The packhouse was alive with activity as usual. Members bustled about, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. I avoided eye contact as I made my way to the kitchen, my head down.

But as I passed the common room, snippets of conversation reached my ears, stopping me in my tracks.

“Did you hear?” one of the pack's females whispered. “Dorian’s been flaunting her around like she’s his new mate.”

My stomach twisted, a mixture of rage and humiliation bubbling to the surface. I pressed myself against the wall, straining to hear more.

“They were at the training grounds together yesterday,” another voice chimed in. “He couldn’t keep his hands off her. It’s disgusting.”

There was a murmur of agreement, followed by a hushed laugh. “I almost feel sorry for Lena. Imagine your mate choosing your sister. What kind of man does that?”

The laughter stabbed at me like a knife, but it was the pity in their voices that stung the most.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My wolf snarled, the sound vibrating through me.

Let them talk, she growled. They’ll eat their words soon enough.

I forced myself to keep walking, my heart pounding in my chest. By the time I reached the kitchen, my anger had reached the boiling point. I grabbed a glass and slammed it onto the counter, the sound echoing through the room.

How dare he? How dare Dorian flaunt Isla in front of the pack, knowing what he’d done to me?

I wanted to storm out to the training grounds and scream at him, to let the pack see his betrayal for what it truly was. But as much as I wanted to unleash my fury, I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Dorian had made his choice.

He didn’t deserve my tears.

As I stood there, gripping the edge of the counter, an idea began to form in my mind. It was small at first, just a spark, but it grew quickly, fueled by my wolf’s rage.

I wouldn’t be the weak, discarded mate. I wouldn’t let Dorian or Isla think they had won.

If he wanted to flaunt his betrayal, then I would make sure he regretted it.

I took a deep breath, the faint ember of resolve flaring to life. My wolf growled her approval, her energy surging through me.

We’ll make him pay, she said, her voice fierce. We’ll show him what he lost.

For the first time in days, I felt something other than pain. It wasn’t happiness or relief—it was determination.

I wasn’t sure exactly how I would do it, but one thing was certain: Dorian would regret the day he betrayed me.

I would make sure of it.