Chapter 5: His regret

Vladimir’s POV

“Alpha, I’m sorry,” my best swimmers in my pack said when they emerged from the waters. It has been a week and they couldn’t find Cheska’s body. 

Weeks become months and months become years and still Cheska’s body still hasn't been found. So I buried her without her body. It was the cruelest part. There was nothing left to bring home, nothing to lower into the ground, nothing to touch and accept as real. Just silence and assumptions and the sound of waves crashing where she disappeared.

I told myself she was not gone and that she was alive. I had to because if I don’t I will fall in ruins, knowing I was the one who caused her death. 

For two years, I accepted and lived with that truth like it was carved into my bones. Cheska was dead. My mate was dead. And I was the reason.

At first, I tried to survive by blaming everything else, my family, the pack, duty and expectations. I told myself Erica confused me and that I loved her. That what I felt for her was real enough to justify what I did.

But that lie didn’t last because love doesn’t humiliate the person who stands beside you. Love doesn’t break bonds in front of witnesses. Love doesn’t make someone run until they drive themselves into the dark.

I wasn’t in love with Erica. I was just used to her being with me. Everything would be much better if I chose her but I was wrong. 

I was a fool. I was easily swayed. I replayed every moment where I chose wrong. Every time my family whispered doubts about Cheska and I listened. Every time Erica cried and I believed her without question. I let them convince me that Cheska was temporary, that she was safe and that she would always be there.

I thought my feelings for Erica were strong enough to bury what I felt for Cheska. But the truth was simpler and uglier.

Cheska was my love and Erica was noise.

I realized that only after the house felt empty, after the bed stayed cold. After no one waited for me at the end of long days. Cheska had been there quietly, steadily, without demanding anything but honesty.

And I gave her betrayal instead.

One year passed, I found a box wrapped in a birthday wrapper when I was cleaning what little of her things I couldn’t bring myself to throw away. It was small. Hidden and almost forgotten. I opened the box and saw a pregnancy test inside. It was positive.

I don’t remember falling to the floor. I only remember the sound I made when it finally hit me. A broken, animal sound that didn’t belong to an Alpha. My wolf howled, crying to the loss of our mate and child. 

She was carrying my child. She was going to tell me.

I imagined her holding that test, wondering when the right moment would be. Wondering if I would smile. Wondering if it would finally fix what was breaking between us. Instead, I broke her first.

That was when I understood the full weight of what I had done. I didn’t just lose my mate. I erased a future. I destroyed something she was protecting with hope while I was busy choosing convenience.

I would give anything to go back. Anything.

I would kneel if I had to. I would defy my family. I would tear the pack apart if it meant one more chance to tell her she mattered. That she was my choice. That she always had been but time doesn’t forgive men like me.

The truth about Erica came later. She was never innocent. She wanted power, security and status. My family supported her because she fit their plans, and I let them use me as their weapon.

By the time I saw it clearly, the woman who deserved my loyalty was already gone.

Cheska died believing she was unwanted.

That truth follows me everywhere.

I live as an Alpha because I have to. I breathe because my body insists on it. But the man I was supposed to be died with her on that cliff. And I will carry that regret for the rest of my life.

I went to see my grandfather later that day. He had asked me once what I planned to do with the family heirloom, a ring. The one passed down through generations. The one Erica had worn the night of my birthday. 

I gave it to the wrong person instead of my real mate. 

I told my grandfather I wanted it redesigned. Cleaned off the wrong hands that touched it. He agreed without question. He always understood things like that.

I arrived earlier than expected. 

The garden was alive with afternoon light. It was soft and warm. I was supposed to be just a normal visit when laughter hit my ears. I followed the laugh and saw a child.

A little boy sat on the grass, laughing as he chased butterflies. A woman stood nearby, watching him closely. I assumed she was the nanny. She looked attentive, calm, used to keeping someone safe.

The boy turned toward me.

I stopped walking.

His eyes caught the light, and my breath caught with them.

One eye was amber. It was warm and familiar.

The other was blue. It was clear and striking.

The child had mismatched eyes but was beautiful.

Something twisted in my chest so suddenly I had to pause. I told myself it was nothing. It's just a child, a coincidence but my body didn’t listen.

He was smiling widely and innocently.

I crouched without thinking.

“Hey there,” I said softly.

He didn’t hesitate. Children never do when they feel safe. He walked right up to me, head tilted like he was studying me.

“You want some chocolate?” I asked.

His face lit up.

I pulled a small bar from my pocket. I didn’t even remember putting it there. I handed it to him carefully.

“Thank you,” he said. His words were a little clumsy, but clear enough.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Uno,” he said proudly.

“And how old are you, Uno?”

He held up two fingers. “Two.”

Two.

If my child had survived… they would be two now.

The thought hit me painfully without warning. I imagined a small hand. A small laugh. A pair of eyes looking up at me like I was someone worth trusting.

I swallowed.

Uno unwrapped the chocolate with help from the nanny and took a bite, grinning when it melted on his tongue. He laughed, a soft sound that settled somewhere deep inside my chest.

I laughed too.

It surprised me.

For the first time in two years, the sound didn’t feel forced.

The nanny smiled politely at me. 

“He likes you.”

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

I watched the boy run again, small feet kicking up grass, joy simple and pure. Something warm and painful spread through me at the same time.

This was what I lost. My family and moments like this.

Laughter. Small hands. A future that could have been ordinary and perfect all at once.

Uno tripped and landed on his hands, then looked back at me to see if he should cry.

“You’re okay,” I said gently.

He stood up, dusted himself off like it was nothing, and ran again.

He was strong and resilient.

I looked away before my eyes burned.

Somewhere deep inside me, something stirred, not hope because I didn’t deserve that. It’s a quiet ache that reminded me I was still human. And that some losses never stop reminding.