My chest tightens as the judge continues, his tone measured but full of respect. “This is leadership that redefines strength. Leadership that sees value where others see weakness. Leadership that prioritizes the pack as a whole, rather than the individual.”
The audience is silent again, but this time it’s not disbelief. It’s awe.
Even the most traditional Alphas nod slowly, their expressions grudging but respectful. They know what they’re looking at.
They know the brilliance of it is undeniable.
I sit frozen, my eyes fixed on the hologram. On her name.
Alpha Siena of Windhowl.
The plans are intricate, thorough, the kind of work that would take months–no, years–to perfect.
This isn’t the Siena I know.
The Siena I know is shallow, self–absorbed, manipulative. She doesn’t care about the pack.
She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.
Dismissing her efforts as another one of her power plays. I told myself she was pretending. That it was all for show. But now, staring at this projection, I feel something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
“She stole it,” Lila whispers in my ear, her voice frantic and desperate. “There’s no way she created this. She must have plagiarized it from somewhere.”
Her words snap me out of my thoughts. I glance at her, my expression carefully blank. “You don’t know that.”
She blinks, momentarily caught off guard. “What are you saying? That she actually did this? That she’s capable of something like this?”
I don’t answer. The accusation aligns with everything I’ve always believed about Siena. It fits the narrative I’ve built in my mind over the years–that she’s cunning, manipulative, willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead. And yet…
My gaze drifts back to her. She’s standing with her pack now, the award in her hands. They surround her like a fortress, their loyalty to her evident in every protective stance.
She doesn’t bask in the applause, doesn’t gloat or preen like I would have expected. Instead, she looks at her pack her expression softening as she meets each of their gazes. She’s not standing above them–she’s standing with them.
As one of them.
The splinter of doubt burrows deeper into my mind, sharp and insistent.
3.825 1998
Chapter 25
What if I’ve been wrong about her? What if the selfish, perwertungry Lane** ***p gumus fuse’s more to her than I’ve allowed myself to wr
“Raiden, Lila snaps, her voice putting me back to the present “fore not defionely falling for the aur you toy koow what she’s like she’s manipulating everyone put like hensy
My wolf growls again, louder this time. He’s been restless a day, bow now he’s preally clawing at my skin demanding to be heard. He doesn’t like Lila’s words. He doesn’t like the way the talks about Sent
And for the first time, I feel a flicker of agreement.
“Enough,” I say sharply. Lila recoils as if I’ve struck her, her eyes widening in dock
“Raiden-
“I said enough” My voice is low, dangerous. She damps her mouth that, her expression sting into a task of Tury Bud don’t care. I can’t deal with her right now
The applause begins to fade as the ceremony comes to an end. The picks start to dispense, thetradices a low hum of conversation.
Some of them glance at Siena as they pass, their expressions a max of curiosity with respect. She doesn’t acknowledge them. She’s too focused on her pack, speaking to them in low tones, her hands gesturing as she talks
Whatever she’s saying, it’s giving them strength. I can see it in the way they stand, taller and prouder with every word
I watch her for a moment longer before tearing my gaze away.
This changes nothing. One good proposal doesn’t erase years of toxic behavior. It doesn’t undo the damage she’s caused, the trust she’s broken. But still the splinter of doubt remains, lodged deep in my mind, impossible to ignore
My wolf whines softly, the sound low and mournful.
Horace doesn’t agree with me. He hasn’t agreed with me for a long time, not when it comes to Siema
And I’m starting to wonder if he knows something I don’t
Lila storms ahead of me, her heels clicking against the stone floor.
I follow her mechanically, my thoughts a tangled mess. The hologram of Siena’s proposal flashes through my mind again, vivid and undeniable.
Her name, her work, her vision.
A vision without me.
And the question lingers, haunting and persistent: What if I’ve been wrong?
