The stinging silence between us feels unbearable. Zion’s smirk is unwavering as he watches me, as though he experts me to crumble in front of him. His drink–drenched proposal lies on the floor, a crumpled mess of paper and ink. The liquid continues to pool, a slick sheen over the once–ordered chaos of my work.
But I’m not reacting the way he expects. There’s no scream, no frustration boiling over the surface. Instead, I gaze at the soaked paper, the words smeared beyond recognition. I feel no anger, no fire. I simply feel cold. Empty. As if the whole situation is beneath me. And maybe it is.
I lift my eyes slowly to meet his. Zibn, ever the predator, watches me closely, but something flickers in his gaze–something like uncertainty, something I don’t think he’s used to. It almost makes me smile.
“So, you never actually intended to sponsor me. This was just a joke, wasn’t it?” My voice comes out level, calm, though every word feels sharp in my mouth. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, and I hold my ground, feeling the weight of his surprise. He was expecting me to fight back, but I’m beyond that now.
Zion raises an eyebrow, as though he’s trying to gauge whether I’m being serious or not. His smile falters for a brief moment before it returns, a little too wide to be genuine. “Of course!” he says, and his voice is laced with that same arrogance that always grates on me. “The champion is undoubtedly Raiden. Do you really want to challenge our alpha king?”
I can see the disdain in his eyes, and it makes something twist in my gut, but I force myself to stay composed. The sting from his earlier words fades in the face of this. He thinks this is a game. He thinks he’s still in control.
He doesn’t understand.
“Besides, you- Zion continues, his voice dripping with condescension. “You, a small–time acting alpha with no real talent? What kind of good proposal could you possibly come up with?”
Laughter ripples through the room, a low hum of amusement from the men gathered around him. My stomach tightens, but I don’t let them see it. I don’t show weakness. Not anymore.
“Yeah, what could a woman write that’s worth looking at?” one of them says, a sneer in his voice.
Another flexes his muscles in a show of dominance, like it somehow proves their point. “The topic is ‘strength.’ Look at this -this is strength! Women should just stick to cooking and cleaning at home!”
Their voices rise, jeering, but I don’t flinch. I don’t give them the satisfaction. Zion’s grin widens as he soaks in the attention, reveling in his power over me.
“Hey, that’s a bit too much,” Zion says with a laugh, raising a hand to calm his friends. “The ladies are still here. But I agree with them! Siena, what do you think? … Ah, I almost forgot. You don’t really seem like a woman anymore.”
His words echo in the room. There’s a familiar sting to them–one I’ve heard too many times before. The insinuation that I’m less than, that I’m somehow unworthy. I want to retort, to fight back with every ounce of energy in me, but I hold myself still. There’s a cold fire inside me now, one that burns brighter than my anger.
I don’t need to prove anything to them.
Zion continues, throwing out the insults like they’re nothing. He goes on about how Lila is gentler, better than I ever could be, that Raiden would never fall for someone like me. He claims that this marriage, my marriage, was nothing but a mistake from the start.
It’s too much. It’s all too much.
His words blur together, a haze of insults and assumptions, and I’ve had enough.
1/3
Sun, 20 Apr
Chapter 15
