The Alpha's Biggest Regret

CHAPTER 5: Falling for the King

The wind ripped through the narrow mountain pass, carrying the bitter sting of ice and the scent of damp pine needles. My boots crunched heavily into the deep snow, leaving a jagged trail behind me. Every step sent a fresh wave of exhaustion through my legs. The severed mate bond was a gaping wound in my chest, a freezing void that made my breathing shallow and my hands shake.

I did not stop walking. If I stopped, the cold would settle into my bones, and I would never get up again.

I reached the rocky incline leading to the summit of Moon Cliff. The trees grew sparse here, exposing the sheer, jagged face of the mountain. Below the cliff lay a massive, roaring river that served as the border between the Silver Moon territory and the Lycan Kingdom. Nobody crossed that river. The Lycans were monsters—ancient, towering predators who did not negotiate.

I paused near a large, snow-covered boulder to catch my breath. I pressed my back against the rough stone, closing my eyes.

A twig snapped.

It was a small sound, barely audible over the howling wind, but my inner wolf instantly stood at attention. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I kept my eyes closed, forcing my breathing to remain slow and even, but I flared my senses outward.

Five distinct heartbeats. The heavy, steady rhythm of trained warriors. The scent of sweat, wet leather, and the sharp tang of drawn blood-steel drifted toward me.

I reached beneath the hem of my thick wool sweater and wrapped my fingers around the leather hilts of my twin silver daggers. I drew them silently, the cool metal pressing against my palms.

"You can come out, Russell," I called out, my voice steady, cutting through the wind.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the blowing snow. Then, five figures stepped out from the shadows of the tree line, forming a wide half-circle around the boulder. They wore the dark gray cloaks of the Silver Moon Elite Guard.

Russell stood in the center, a heavy broadsword resting casually over his shoulder. He was a massive, scarred warrior I had personally trained three winters ago. Beside him stood Tripp, a younger guard who kept his eyes glued to the snow, looking anywhere but at my face.

"You always had the best ears in the pack, Evie," Russell said. He did not call me Luna. The disrespect was a bitter pill, but I swallowed it easily.

"Elder Cedric did not waste any time," I said, stepping away from the boulder so I had room to move. I kept my daggers angled downward, my posture relaxed but ready. "I barely left the grand hall an hour ago."

Russell shrugged, lowering his broadsword. "The Alpha has a new heir and a new mate. The Elders have the political stability they wanted. A rejected, wandering ex-Luna who knows all the pack’s trade secrets and defense routes is a problem. Cedric just wants a clean slate."

"And Delroy?" I asked. The question slipped out before I could stop it. I needed to know if the man I loved had ordered my death alongside my rejection.

Tripp shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "The Alpha doesn't know. He is with the new Luna. Elder Cedric ordered us to make sure you never crossed the border. He said to make it look like a rogue attack."

A dark, humorless laugh escaped my lips. "So the cowards sent five of you to put me down."

Russell’s eyes hardened. He gripped his sword with both hands. "Drop the blades, Evie. We don't want to drag you back in pieces. Make it quick, and we will make it painless."

"If you want my life, Russell, you are going to have to bleed for it," I whispered.

Russell lunged.

He was fast, but he was heavy. He swung the broadsword in a wide, sweeping arc aimed directly at my neck. I dropped to my knees, feeling the wind of the heavy blade rush over my hair. Before he could recover his balance, I drove my left dagger straight up, slicing deep into the unprotected flesh of his thigh.

Russell roared, stumbling backward and dropping to one knee. Blood sprayed across the pristine white snow, stark and bright.

"Take her down!" Russell shouted, clutching his leg.

The remaining four guards rushed me all at once.

I pushed off the snowy ground, spinning away from a thrusting spear. The adrenaline flooded my system, temporarily masking the hollow ache in my chest. I ducked under a heavy axe swing from a guard on my right, bringing my right dagger up and slashing across his forearm. He dropped his weapon with a cry of pain.

Tripp came at me from the left, his eyes wide and terrified. He swung a short sword blindly. I caught his wrist with my free hand, twisting it sharply until the bone popped. He screamed, dropping the sword. I shoved him hard into the frozen trunk of a nearby pine tree, knocking him unconscious.

Two down. Three to go.

I spun around just in time to see the fourth guard lunging with a silver-tipped spear. I twisted my torso, but I was a fraction of a second too slow.

The silver tip sliced through my thick sweater and tore into the flesh of my ribs.

A blinding flash of heat erupted in my side. I gasped, stumbling backward. The silver burned like liquid fire, searing my Lycan healing abilities and leaving the wound raw and open. I pressed my hand against my ribs. Warm blood immediately soaked through my fingers.

The pain broke my focus. My knees trembled. The exhaustion of the severed mate bond, combined with the blood loss, hit me like a falling tree.

"She's hit! Box her in!" Russell yelled, struggling to stand on his good leg.

The two remaining guards moved in, raising their weapons. They forced me backward, step by step, driving me up the rocky incline. My boots slipped on the loose gravel and ice. I kept my daggers raised, swiping violently whenever they stepped too close, but my swings were growing sluggish.

The wind roared louder, whipping my dark hair into my eyes. The ground beneath my feet leveled out.

I took one more step backward, and my heel found nothing but empty air.

I froze, risking a quick glance over my shoulder.

I was standing on the very edge of Moon Cliff. The drop was terrifying—hundreds of feet of sheer, jagged rock face plunging straight down into the raging, churning black water of the border river. The mist from the rapids below drifted up, biting into the open wound on my ribs.

Russell limped up the incline, standing beside the other two guards. He looked at the blood dripping from my side, staining the snow at my feet.

"There is nowhere left to run, Evie," Russell said, his chest heaving. "The river will crush you against the rocks. Put the daggers down."

I looked at the men who had once sworn to protect me. I looked at the Silver Moon crest stitched into their cloaks. I had given my life to that crest. I had loved those people. And they had thrown me away the moment I stopped being useful.

I looked down at the dark, roaring abyss.

If I surrendered, they would slit my throat and bury me in an unmarked grave in the woods. Delroy would never know. Róise would live a long, comfortable life in my home, raising her son in my bed.

I refused to let them have my body.

"I am not running, Russell," I said quietly.

I lowered my daggers, letting them slip from my frozen fingers. They hit the icy rock with a soft clatter. I locked my silver-gray eyes onto Russell's face, making sure he saw the sheer, unfiltered defiance burning in my soul.

I took a deep breath of the freezing mountain air.

And I stepped backward off the cliff.

The ground vanished.

For a single heartbeat, I hung suspended in the gray, snowy sky. Then, gravity caught me.

The descent was violent. The wind screamed in my ears, tearing the breath from my lungs. The jagged rock face of the mountain blurred into a streak of gray and white. The freezing air battered my body, flipping me backward as I plummeted toward the raging river below.

I closed my eyes. The pain in my ribs faded. The ache of the broken mate bond grew numb. I did not feel fear. I simply felt an overwhelming, heavy peace. It was over. The betrayal, the lies, the endless struggle to be enough—it was all finally over.

I waited for the crushing impact of the black water. I waited for the sharp rocks to break my bones.

The impact came, but it was not water, and it was not stone.

I slammed into something incredibly solid, but it gave way just enough to absorb the lethal force of my fall. Two massive, corded arms wrapped around my waist and shoulders with terrifying speed, crushing me against a broad chest covered in thick, dark fur and heavy leather.

The sudden deceleration knocked the remaining air from my lungs. I gasped, my eyes flying open in sheer shock.

I was not in the river.

I was standing on the rocky shore at the bottom of the canyon, enveloped entirely in the arms of a giant.

The scent hit me instantly. It was not the familiar pine of the Silver Moon pack. It was an overpowering, intoxicating wave of deep cedar, dark amber, and raw, untamed power. The scent was so potent, so deeply grounding, that my panicked inner wolf instantly fell completely silent.

I forced my heavy head up, my neck protesting the movement.

The man holding me was massive, towering over six and a half feet tall. His shoulders were impossibly broad beneath a heavy, dark coat. Thick black hair swept back from a face carved out of harsh, predatory angles. A faded, jagged scar ran along his strong jawline, disappearing into his collar.

But it was his eyes that stole the breath from my throat.

They were not human eyes. They were a piercing, luminous gold, glowing brightly in the dim light of the canyon. The vertical slits of his pupils tracked every rapid beat of my heart, every panicked pulse in my throat.

The King of the Lycans. Flannán Drake Case.

He was a myth. A warlord who tore Alphas apart with his bare hands. The ruler of the forbidden territory I had just fallen into. He was supposed to be a monster.

I stared into his golden eyes, waiting for him to snap my neck. I waited for the killing blow.

Instead, the terrifying, lethal aura radiating from him vanished entirely. The violent tension in his massive frame melted away the second he looked down at my face. His grip on me shifted, turning incredibly gentle, as if he were holding something fragile and infinitely precious.

He lifted one large, calloused hand, slowly brushing a wet strand of dark hair away from my cheek. His knuckles were warm against my freezing skin.

He stared at me, his golden eyes filled with an intense, burning reverence that I had never seen before.

Flannán parted his lips, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated straight through my chest and settled into my broken soul.

"My Queen," he whispered.

The edges of my vision blurred. The adrenaline finally abandoned me, leaving nothing but total exhaustion. I let my head fall against his broad chest, the scent of cedar wrapping around me like a shield, before the world faded into total blackness.