Imara Diversifies The Beastmen World

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Four: The King's Breaking Point

Rosetta's POV

My hand rose to my lips as the room shifted around me, votes cast, silence heavy. I stood frozen, tears welling in my eyes, watching my mate hesitate before our daughter.

"Winnie..." I called gently. My voice was no longer a queen's. It was simply a woman's. A mate's. A mother's.

It slipped out before I could think. I had called him that since we were young ones, back when everything was simpler. But now, watching him frozen in place—shoulders locked, jaw tight, torn between love and duty—I didn't see a king or a warrior.

I saw him. My mate. My heart.

He turned toward me, eyes red-rimmed, face strained with sorrow. Desperation flickered there, that quiet plea he never voiced aloud.

"My beautiful flower," he murmured, voice cracked and low. Like the words alone were keeping him from falling.

I stepped forward. The air was thick like fog, the kind that clings to your skin and slows your breath. Each step I took felt like I was cutting through a history too long avoided. But I had to reach him.

"You've always carried too much," I said softly. "For me. For her. For all of us."

Guards stood poised in tension. Rosa's mates looked lost—uncertain of their escape but willing.

Everyone was waiting for him to act.

But he couldn't.

Not this time.

"I know I always let you handle everything," I continued. "And truthfully, I liked it that way. I never wanted the burden of making the final call. But this time..." I rested my hand on his shoulder. I felt it instantly. The pressure beneath his skin. The beast in him—strained, trembling, held back by love and guilt.

"This time, I will decide."

His brows twitched. He didn't expect that. Maybe he never believed I'd speak at all. But I had to.

"I can't let you throw everything away. Yes, she is our daughter. But what she just did... it was the final sign."

I exhaled, slow and sharp. "She's tearing everything apart. Our tribe. Our bond. You."

He flinched. His jaw tightened again.

"I made her too much like me," I admitted, my voice cracking at the edge. "I taught her to expect everything. To lean on you without question. To believe she'd never fall. She doesn't care for anything outside of herself because I never taught her to. I left it all on you, knowing you'd catch what I dropped. And now... we are facing the consequences."

I chuckled on a dry laugh full of sadness and regret. "I finally understand what Imara meant about friendship. Maybe if I'd walked beside you as your friend—not just your mate—I would have cared more to face these things with you instead of stepping over the path you carved with blood, sweat, and tears."

As I smoothed the tight lines from his furrowed brows on his forehead I said ."I'm sorry it took me so long to see it."

Winfrey looked like something softened in him, something healing that he hadn't even known was wounded until now. He leaned in, resting his forehead gently against mine, grounding us in the moment.

"My Queen," he whispered, voice low but steady, "it has always been my honor to serve you, and our daughter."

For a moment, we just stood there—foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, steadying each other. In that silence, something shifted between us. A new foundation, not built on duty or survival, but understanding.