Don't Regret after losing me to the Alpha King

Chapter 3:

The morning air was crisp, but it did nothing to cool the fire simmering in my chest. I had spent the night tossing and turning, my mind replaying every glance, every laugh, every cruel touch from Paxton, and every victory smile Hillary had worn so effortlessly. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, restless and fierce, but I was trapped in my own flesh, in my own longing.

By the time I stepped outside, the forest was bathed in pale, golden light, yet the warmth felt hollow. Every leaf seemed sharper today, every shadow stretched with purpose, reminding me of him—Paxton Lincoln—and how utterly untouchable he was.

I tried to keep my pace measured, to look composed, to pretend that I could function without his cruel tether around my heart. But as soon as I reached the clearing, I froze.

There he was.

Paxton, leaning casually against a tree, his posture easy, his smirk effortless. Beside him, Hillary laughed, her hand brushing his arm as if it were a claim the world could see. And the world did see. A few early risers from the pack lingered, watching, enjoying the silent show of my torment, though they didn't know it was torment—I was the only one who did.

My legs felt like lead. My chest ached. And still, I stepped forward, the wolf snarling beneath my ribs, whispering in frustration.

He looked at me. Just a glance, brief, almost dismissive—but enough to make my heart betray me. My stomach knotted, my palms grew clammy, and yet... I wanted more.

Hillary's eyes flicked to me, sharp and deliberate, and her lips curved in a smirk that spoke of victory. "Morning, Lya," she said sweetly, the venom hidden beneath the sugar coating.

Paxton's hand brushed hers as he straightened, a casual display of dominance, of possession. "You're early," he said to me, not a trace of warmth in his voice. "I hope you didn't come here expecting..." His eyes lingered on me for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and my wolf growled, warning me, wanting me to flee. "Anything from me."

The words cut deeper than any lash.

And still... I stayed.

Because some foolish, pitiful part of me believed that he might—just might—see me differently today. That he might notice me for more than what I was: a shadow, a pawn, a plaything for his amusement.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to stand. And as the morning light hit my skin, I remembered that first time he had smiled at me—not cruel, not teasing, but real—and my chest ached with the memory. It was during my first week with the pack, after a late training session. I had stumbled while carrying a stack of logs, nearly dropping them all, and instead of scolding me, Paxton had caught them, steadying the pile with ease.

"You've got potential," he had said, eyes soft for just a moment. "Just... keep your balance next time."

It had been so ordinary, so small, but the kindness had made my heart lurch in a way I hadn't anticipated. I had laughed nervously, cheeks burning, and he had looked at me like I mattered. That brief moment—the warmth in his gaze, the quiet encouragement—was when I had fallen. Not as a mate, not as some destined other half, but helplessly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Paxton Lincoln. Even now, years later, that memory clung to me, tethering me to him through every act of cruelty, every humiliating glance.

I would never be able to leave him.

Not now. Not ever.

The clearing was no longer empty. A few of the younger pack members had arrived, stretching and chatting casually, their voices carrying easily in the crisp morning air. I could feel their eyes flicking toward me, curious and whispering, sensing the tension even if they didn't know its origin.

Paxton stood at the center, leaning lazily against a tree, his gaze occasionally drifting to me. Hillary was beside him, arms crossed, her posture relaxed, her smile sharp, cruelly victorious. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to vanish into the earth. But I didn't.

"Lya," Paxton called, his voice smooth, teasing, carrying over the field like a whip. "Come here."

I obeyed, my legs stiff, my hands trembling at my sides. My wolf growled beneath my ribs, urging me to resist, to strike, to vanish, but I stayed. My pride was shredded. My dignity had been torn away long ago. I remained, pitiful and tethered by the faintest thread of hope.

Paxton smirked as I approached, and the pack members shifted, watching with barely concealed amusement.

"Hold this," he said, tossing me a heavy training staff. My fingers closed around it reluctantly, the weight unfamiliar, awkward. Hillary's laughter followed, bright and victorious.

"Careful, Lya," she said, her voice honey-sweet but sharp with mockery. "You wouldn't want to drop it in front of everyone."

Paxton's smirk widened, eyes flicking between us. "Yes, we wouldn't want anyone to see how... incapable you are."

The words cut into me like ice. My wolf snarled beneath my skin, furious, desperate, but I didn't move. I couldn't. Not when the chain of hope—his fleeting glances, his teasing tone—held me fast.

Hillary stepped closer, brushing her hand against Paxton's arm, deliberately flaunting her proximity. "She's really trying, isn't she?" she said, voice loud enough for the others to hear. "But no matter how hard she tries, she'll never get your attention, Pax. Never."

His laugh followed, low and careless, and I felt the weight of every eye on me. I could feel my cheeks burning, my hands trembling. I wanted to run. I wanted to collapse. I wanted to scream.

But I stayed.

Because even humiliated, even exposed, even broken in front of them all, a part of me—a pitiful, desperate part—still clung to him.

Still hoped he might glance at me, even for a heartbeat, and see something beyond the shadow I had become.

By midday, the clearing had become a stage, and I was the unwilling performer. Paxton's gaze lingered on me again, brief but precise, enough to make my chest ache with anticipation and dread. Hillary hovered close, laughing softly, her every movement calculated to draw attention—and to make me burn.

"Try holding it properly, Lya," Paxton said, tossing me the training staff again, his smirk sharp, indulgent, like a predator toying with its prey. The pack members shifted, leaning in to watch, some stifling laughter.

I gripped the staff, trembling, fumbling with it as he circled me like a shadow, inspecting my awkward stance. Every glance from him, every casual flick of his gaze, made my heart betray me, and yet my pride remained shattered into tiny fragments I could barely hold together.

Hillary stepped closer, her voice sugar-coated venom. "Oh, Pax, she's hopeless. Look at her, trying so hard just to impress you. Isn't it adorable?"

Paxton laughed softly, the sound scraping across my skin like sandpaper. "Yes, it's... amusing," he said, eyes returning to me for a heartbeat longer than necessary. A flicker of hope sparked in me, pitiful and weak, but it was enough to hold me in place, even as my wolf growled, frantic, demanding release.

"Come on, Lya," Paxton continued, circling behind me now, brushing the tip of the staff lightly against my shoulder as if to correct me, though his touch lingered just long enough to humiliate. "Try again. Don't let them see you fail."

The pack chuckled, and my stomach twisted. My wolf hissed beneath my skin, claws itching to strike, but I pressed myself into the ground, clinging to the smallest shred of hope—that maybe he would glance at me differently this time.

Hillary leaned in close to him, whispering something I couldn't hear, and he laughed, eyes bright with amusement. And still... in the briefest instant, his gaze flicked to me again.

That glance, brief and careless, held me tethered. Held me pitiful, trembling, humiliated. Held me bound to him despite everything.

Because even as he laughed, even as he humiliated me in front of everyone, I couldn't leave.

I wouldn't leave.

I couldn't walk away—not when the tiniest flicker of his attention kept me tethered, not when my heart refused to let go, even if it broke me a little more each time. Because I know, that he loved me too and will come back to me.