Ayla’s whisper was a blade in his soul. *Our unborn pup.* The words echoed in the screaming silence of Logan’s mind. A pup. Their pup. The child he had unknowingly discarded along with his mate. The force of her Silver Blood power was a physical weight, crushing his bones, forcing his knees to crack against the cold marble. But it was nothing. Nothing compared to the phantom agony that ripped through his gut, a father’s grief for a child he never knew he had. He choked, a strangled sound tearing from his throat. Air wouldn’t come. His lungs burned. His world had narrowed to the vision of Ayla’s face, so close, her silver eyes no longer holding the warmth of the girl he’d known, but the glacial chill of a distant star. She was a queen. A goddess. And he was the fool who had cast her out. His wolf howled within him, a sound of pure, undiluted agony. *Mate! Our pup! MATE!* It clawed at the inside of his chest, desperate, feral, clawing to get to her, to beg, to reclaim, to fix the unforgivable sin he had committed. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his gaze. He saw her straighten up, turning away from him as if he were less than dust. She placed a delicate, possessive hand on the Lycan King’s arm. Kaelen. The King’s burning gold eyes were fixed on him, a predator watching its prey bleed out. The sheer pressure radiating from the Lycan was suffocating, an aura of ancient, absolute power that made Logan’s own Alpha status feel like a child’s fantasy. And then his gaze, desperate and broken, flickered past them. He saw Chloe. His chosen mate. His half-sister-in-law. She stood frozen among the Silver Moon pack members, her face a mask of shock and terror. Her designer dress, once so impressive, now looked cheap. Her carefully crafted beauty seemed faded, brittle. She was a flickering candle next to the raging inferno that was Ayla. In that moment, the illusion shattered. He saw Chloe for what she was: a pale imitation, a consolation prize, a catastrophic mistake. He had thrown away a diamond for a shard of glass. His bond with Chloe felt like a lie, a thin, fraying thread compared to the cataclysmic pull he still felt for Ayla—a bond he himself had severed, yet it screamed for him, tormented him. The regret was a physical poison, flooding his veins. His wolf surged, overriding his shock, overriding his pain. One singular, primal thought consumed him. *Mine.* The thought was a roar in his soul. *She is mine.* His eyes locked on Ayla, no longer with just regret, but with a sudden, desperate possessiveness. He had to have her back. He didn’t care about the King. He didn’t care about the pack. She was his fated mate. His. The air cracked like lightning. Before Logan could even process the shift, a force slammed into him. It wasn’t a push. It was a physical manifestation of raw, untamed dominance. Kaelen hadn't moved a muscle, but his power, concentrated and lethal, struck Logan like a mountain falling from the sky. Logan’s face hit the marble floor with a sickening crunch. Bone shattered. Blood exploded from his nose and mouth, painting the pristine white stone a dark, glistening crimson. The air was forced from his lungs in a wet gasp. Stars burst behind his eyes as the Lycan King’s pressure pinned him, crushing him, grinding him into the floor. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only feel the blinding pain and the suffocating weight of an apex predator’s wrath. The other Alphas flinched back, their own wolves whining in submission. They had felt the shockwave of the King’s power, a warning to them all. Kaelen took a slow, deliberate step forward, his shadow falling over Logan's broken form. He crouched, his movements fluid and deadly. His voice was a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the floor and up Logan’s shattered cheekbone. “Keep your eyes off my woman,” Kaelen snarled, the words laced with enough killing intent to freeze hell over. “Or I will personally rip your throat out and feed it to the dogs.” Ayla watched, her expression unreadable. She walked to Kaelen’s side, her gown whispering against the blood-stained marble. She didn’t look at Logan with pity, or even hatred. She looked at him with nothing. Complete, soul-destroying indifference. “He’s not worth the dirt on your boots, my King,” she said, her voice clear and cold. She placed her hand on Kaelen’s shoulder, a gesture not of restraint, but of ownership. A queen claiming her king. Kaelen’s fury didn’t recede, but it settled, simmering just beneath his skin. He rose to his full, intimidating height, pulling Ayla flush against his side. His golden eyes swept across the terrified assembly, a monarch surveying his trembling subjects. He looked at Alpha Marcus, Logan’s father, whose face was pale with dawning horror. He looked at the cowering members of the Silver Moon pack. Then his gaze, sharp and lethal as a shard of ice, landed on Chloe. She flinched as if physically struck, shrinking behind another warrior. “Your Alpha is weak,” Kaelen’s voice boomed, silencing every heartbeat in the grand hall. “His pack is complicit. They stood by while a rogue, a child of the Moon Goddess, was abused and cast out. They celebrated while my fated Queen was hunted.” He paused, letting the terror build, letting every pack member understand the depth of their crime. “There must be an accounting,” he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerously soft tone. “A price for such treachery. A price for the one who plotted to murder a future Luna of the Lycans.” His eyes remained locked on Chloe, pinning her in place. He smiled, a chilling, predatory slash of his lips that held no warmth, only the promise of absolute ruin. “Alpha Marcus of the Silver Moon,” Kaelen commanded, his voice ringing with finality. “Bring me your daughter. The price for treason is blood, and she will pay it before the moon is high.”

The Regret of the Alpha