His Cruel Bonded Omega,The Alpha’s Late Regret

Alaric's hand clamped down on the back of my neck, his grip bruising against my scent glands. Every trace of the bond warmth had vanished from his eyes, replaced by something cold and predatory. "Revenge, of course." His voice was ice, his Alpha dominance pressing down on me like a physical weight. "You enjoy being mounted by enemy wolves, don't you? Then I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life as a living widow—bonded but abandoned, marked but untouched." "Lyra." He leaned in close, his breath hot against the sensitive skin behind my ear where his claiming bite still throbbed. "I want your remaining years to hurt a hundred—no, a thousand times more than what I'm feeling right now." The next morning, he departed for the Moonlit Isles with Seren. Our mating journey. Our promised destination. Alaric had always refused to be captured in memory-crystals, claiming an Alpha's image held too much power to share carelessly. But for her, he commissioned a pack chronicler to follow them everywhere. Hundreds of paired images—him gazing at her on white sand shores under the full moon, her draped against his chest as the sun bled into the sea—all shared through the pack network for every wolf in the territories to witness. By then, my disgrace had spread across Capital Territory like wildfire through dry brush. Desperate heat-slave. Insatiable she-wolf. The whispered condemnations were endless, carried on every breeze that touched pack lands. Meanwhile, Alaric became the noble Alpha who'd been betrayed by his intended mate yet still honored his claiming responsibility. And Seren? She was celebrated as the brave Omega who'd endured public scorn because her devotion to the Alpha was true and pure. Their supporters flooded my mind-link with death wishes before I severed the connection entirely. Funeral wreaths woven with wolfsbane arrived at my den door. Someone glamoured my face onto pleasure-house advertisements, images so vile I couldn't look at them twice without my stomach heaving. While I drowned in shame, Alaric took Seren to every sacred site I'd ever dreamed of visiting with him. Every single one. And still—still—I couldn't let go of the bond. How could I? In this entire world, after my mother, he was the only one who had ever truly wanted me. The only one whose scent had ever meant safety. I was eighteen winters old when my father brought Seren and her mother into our den. One moon cycle later, at my coming-of-age feast, my mother pressed a moon-blessing charm into my palm. Her hands were warm, her wolf-amber eyes soft with love. Then she climbed to the highest ledge of our territory and stepped off the edge. Her journal told me everything. Pages and pages of deliberate humiliation. Seren and Raven's calculated cruelty, their whispered campaigns to isolate her from the pack, to taint her scent-standing until no wolf would acknowledge her presence. I brought the evidence to my father, Elder Dorian of the Ashvale Pack. Seren wept, her Omega distress-scent flooding the room. Raven sobbed harder, clutching at my father's arm. I was cast out of the den that same night. That winter was brutal. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and settles there like frost that never thaws. I was hours away from becoming a lone wolf—packless, unprotected, prey for any territorial male who caught my scent—when Alaric found me. He'd searched every corner of the territory, tracking my fading trail through frozen forests and abandoned hunting grounds. He pulled me into his arms so tightly I couldn't breathe, his wolf rumbling beneath his skin, his voice caught between fury and anguish. "Why didn't you come to me?" "Lyra." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his storm-grey eyes. "Remember this. Even if every pack in existence turns their backs on you, I want you. I will always want you." After that, Alaric poured everything he had into caring for me. He brought me into the Nightfall Pack's elite training grounds, a world of Alpha heirs and pure-blooded wolves where I stuck out like a stray among thoroughbreds. Everyone waited for me to fail. To crumble. To prove I didn't belong among their ancient bloodlines. At the opening gathering of the season, Alaric took the central stone as the pack's most promising young Alpha. He was supposed to give a speech about territory expansion and alliance strategies. Instead, he looked directly into the assembled wolves and declared: "Lyra Ashvale is my life. Touch her, and you touch me. Harm her, and I will personally ensure your line ends with you." The whispers stopped after that. He hunted for me every single day—bringing fresh kills, proper nutrition, determined to put healthy weight on my too-thin frame. Whenever the master craftswolves released their seasonal collections of ceremonial garments and enchanted accessories, he had everything sent to my quarters before I could even browse the offerings. Once, after a run through the enchanted forests, I mentioned offhandedly how magical it would be to have a sanctuary like the ones in the old legends—a hidden place where no darkness could reach. He claimed land in the most protected corner of his territory. Built me an estate. A secret sanctuary, warded and safe, just for me. Every wolf in Capital Territory's elite circles knew how Alpha Alaric Nightfall treated me. It wasn't a secret—it was legend. He made me bright again. Confident. Even a little spoiled, in ways I'd never imagined possible after everything I'd lost. On the nights when the grief crept back—when I woke gasping from nightmares of my mother's fall, terrified that Alaric would reject our bond and leave me packless again—he would hold me through every sob, every irrational accusation, and repeat the same words with unwavering patience: "Never worry, Lyra. Unless I'm dead, I will never stop loving you." How was I supposed to let go of that wolf? So when he returned from the Moonlit Isles with Seren, I swallowed my pride. I begged. I dug out my healer records from the infirmary den—proof that I'd been poisoned with heat-inducing toxins, proof that I was innocent of willing betrayal—and brought them to him. He wouldn't even look at them. "Fabricated evidence," he said, his lip curling with disgust, his Alpha dominance pressing down until I could barely stand. "Is there anything you won't do to escape the consequences of your treachery?"

I was out of options. All I could do was dig out the keepsakes that documented our past—the courtship tokens etched with moon-silver, the scent-sealed letters where we'd poured out our hearts, the gifts and mementos that held meaning only for the two of us. But every item I pulled out, Alaric burned. The flames devoured each one, and with them, the faint traces of his scent that had once clung to the paper and fabric. I watched years of memories turn to ash in the hearth of our shared den. Eventually, I grew desperate enough to bare my throat and try to draw him in—anything to make the Alpha who was supposed to be my mate stay in our chambers for just one night. I let my natural scent rise, unchecked, hoping it might stir something in him. Alaric did pause. For the first time in ages, he moved toward me. But just as his lips were about to meet mine, he gripped my chin and smiled—a cruel, mocking twist of his mouth. His canines glinted in the low light. "Lyra, you really are this pathetic, aren't you?" "Too bad I have standards. I don't touch tainted things." The next day, he brought Seren to a pack charity gathering. My intimate images—the ones I'd sent only to him through warded channels—had been printed out and placed on display for the highest bidder. When I was dragged into the grand hall, the first thing I saw was my own image splashed across the massive tapestry screen. Alaric watched the color drain from my face, his smile wide and vicious. His wolf gleamed behind his eyes, satisfied. "Like it, mate? Happy first anniversary of our bond." Laughter rippled through the gathered wolves. Dozens of leering gazes crawled over my skin, their heightened senses drinking in my humiliation, my fear-scent filling the air. Seren draped herself against Alaric's chest, her delicate Omega frame pressed into his arms as she giggled at me. Her scent twined deliberately with his, marking territory that should have been mine. "With my sister's notorious reputation, Alaric, this gift really does suit her perfectly!" "Though, ever since you and I got together, you haven't touched her once, have you? Someone with her... appetites... no wonder she's throwing herself at you during her heats." "I'm not a petty Omega. She's still technically your bonded mate, after all. Maybe you should satisfy her sometime?" She pouted, tracing a finger down his chest. "You wear me out every night—I can barely keep up with how insatiable your wolf is..." At her words, Alaric's gaze landed on me. The desire I'd once prayed to see had curdled into pure disgust. His nostrils flared as if my very scent offended him. "Touch her? I'd rather not taint my wolf with her corruption." He turned and nuzzled Seren's neck, scent-marking her right before my eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I only want someone pure like you. Once the auction silver comes through, I'll commission you that moon-forged pendant you wanted, hmm?" Watching them wrapped around each other, their scents mingling into something that burned my sensitive nose, I closed my eyes. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and despair—black and absolute—finally pulled me under. My voice came out slow. Steady. Final. "Alaric. Let's dissolve the bond." He glanced at me sideways. Then he laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. "Lyra, what makes you think you have the right to ask me for a bond dissolution?" He rose, looming over me to drink in my anguish. His thumb brushed across my cheek, wiping away a tear with mock tenderness. The contact sent unwanted sparks through the frayed edges of our bond. "Did you forget what I told you? I'm going to make you suffer for the rest of your life. And this?" He gestured around us at the watching pack members. "This is just the beginning." "As long as I don't sign the writ, you'll never be free of this mating bond." To punish my disobedience, Alaric moved Seren into our den. The common room. The cooking quarters. The bathing chambers. The storage alcove. Anywhere I'd been, I'd find them the next morning—their mingled scents saturating every surface, marking every corner that had once been ours. I stopped sleeping. Entire nights passed with my eyes fixed on the ceiling, their sounds filtering through the walls. I saw healers. I swallowed calming draughts, following their instructions to the letter. But nothing could block out the scent of their coupling that seeped under my door. Then one day, Seren barged into my room, a spelled viewing crystal in hand. "Lyra, after all these years, you're still this useless?" "Watching you live like a kicked pup every day... even I'm starting to feel sorry for you." "Fine. I'll be generous and let you die with some clarity." Her smile sharpened, her wolf gleaming behind her eyes. "That night—when you and Kael were drugged with heat-scent poison? That was me." She turned the crystal toward me. On its surface, recorded images played in crisp detail: Seren, tipping white powder into my goblet at the feast.

My first instinct was to snatch the tablet and rush to show Alaric the evidence. But when he saw the surveillance footage, his eyes turned cold as ice—the amber of his wolf bleeding away until only frost remained. "Seren was right. To cover up your filthy heat-breach, you really would frame her for it." The glamour-detection seal at the end of the recording destroyed me completely. Someone had woven false magic through the images, marking them as fabricated. Seren threw herself into Alaric's arms, sobbing. He stroked her hair, his wolf rumbling comfort to her, while his lips curled into a sneer aimed at me. "Like mother, like daughter. Your mother must have been the same—couldn't control her heat, let another male scent-mark her behind your father's back, then killed herself out of guilt when she was about to be caught." "First you tried to pin your mother's sins on Seren's mother. Now you're pulling the same trick on Seren herself." His voice dripped with contempt. "Did you really think I'd keep falling for your manipulations?" I stared at him, unable to process what I was hearing. The deepest, most guarded wound in my soul—and for Seren's sake, he'd turned it into a blade without a moment's hesitation. My hand flew up to strike him, but Alaric caught my wrist, his Alpha strength crushing, and hurled me to the floor like garbage. "Without my indulgence, Lyra, do you really think you have the right to bare your claws at me?" Seren rushed over, pretending to help me up. But as she leaned close, her whisper was pure venom, pitched below even wolf-hearing. "You're just as stupid as your dead mother. Yes, I did it—but did you really think I'd hand you the evidence on a silver platter?" "Your mother couldn't beat mine. And you'll never beat me." Tears streamed down my face, numb and endless. Somewhere in the middle of crying, I started to laugh. I lunged for the silver letter opener on the nearby table and drove it toward Seren. Alaric kicked it from my hand. His expression twisted with horror and disgust. "Have you gone completely insane?" He swept Seren into his arms and summoned every top healer in the territory to treat her scratch. Then he moved her into my hidden estate—the den that had been my mother's sanctuary. My condition deteriorated rapidly. I swallowed calming herbs by the handful. My hair began falling out in clumps. My memory fractured, pieces slipping away like water through cracks. To survive, I forced myself to stop thinking about Alaric. I locked myself in my chambers and buried myself in restoring ancient moon-scrolls, one crumbling page at a time. I'd discovered this work by accident after the mating ceremony—a way to escape the pain. Back then, I never imagined it would become my lifeline, the very thing that would help me finally leave Alaric. I stopped following news about Alaric and Seren. But as Capital Territory's power couple, their stories found me anyway. Today, Alaric bought Seren a private hunting ground. Tomorrow, they'd appear at some pack gathering, her arm threaded through his, her scent mingled with his for all to witness. Seren had seamlessly stepped into the role of Luna Nightfall. Meanwhile, I had been erased from existence—forgotten, as if I'd never been real at all. At least I'd grown numb enough that the days somehow kept passing. Six months slipped by. Then one night, Alaric came home. He was drunk—completely wrecked, his wolf barely leashed beneath his skin. The moment he walked through the door, his mouth crashed into mine. I kicked. I clawed. I fought. But he was an Alpha unhinged, deaf to everything, his instincts drowning out reason, and he took what he wanted. The next morning, I woke to a bucket of ice water. Alaric stood at the bedside, revulsion pouring off him in waves that made my omega instincts cower. "You're disgusting." "Crawling into my bed while I was drunk—is that how you used to seduce males?" He called in a cleansing team to purify the entire master den of my scent. Halfway through, he decided it wasn't enough and had the whole chamber gutted and rebuilt. I watched in silence. I didn't bother explaining anymore. Alaric would never believe me anyway.

It wasn't until my follow-up visit to the healer's den that I discovered, completely by accident, that I was carrying a pup. When the faint, steady flutter of my pup's heartbeat filled the examination chamber, tears I thought had long since dried up spilled down my cheeks again, beyond my control. I had no one left in this world. Not a single pack member. Not a single soul who loved me. But this pup—this pup made me greedy. I wanted to keep it. I didn't dare let Alaric find out. I was terrified he'd force me to end the pregnancy, to rid himself of any bond to me. Before I could figure out what to do, disaster struck. During my second healer visit, a fire broke out in the infirmary den. As I fled through the smoke-filled corridors, I saw Alaric carrying Seren out of another birthing chamber. The moment our eyes met, I was shoved by the stampeding wolves and lost my balance, crashing to the stone floor. Panicked feet trampled over me, one after another. Crimson blood pooled beneath me, spreading across the cold floor in an instant. I screamed for help, terrified. Alaric's gaze lingered on me for barely a second—then he turned away, Seren still cradled in his arms, and never looked back. I lay there in agony, frozen. So this is where we are now. I pulled myself out of the memory. My pillow was already soaked with tears. My hand drifted to my stomach, still aching with a dull, phantom pain. I apologized in silence. I'm sorry, little one. Your mother couldn't protect you. And your father... he really, truly doesn't love me anymore. I should have let go a long time ago. Just then, a pack messenger arrived with a delivery to my recovery chamber. It was an official appointment scroll from the High Council Archive. When I'd returned the restored moon-scrolls to the archive, Healer-Scholar Elowen Frostmere had been astonished by my work. She'd immediately recommended me to her contacts within the Council. They had already promised: the moment I confirmed my acceptance, the Council would automatically dissolve my mating bond through official writ. After completing my discharge from the healers, I walked out through the infirmary's main entrance. Alaric's black carriage was stationed right outside. He stood with one hand braced against the carriage door, carefully helping Seren inside. His Alpha scent—pine and winter storm—drifted toward me on the wind. His eyes swept over me. A cold, dismissive smirk tugged at his lips. Then he climbed into the carriage and signaled the driver to leave. The moment his carriage pulled away, the Council transport they had sent for me arrived, as if on cue. I climbed in. The carriage made a turn and headed straight for the warded territory gates.