On my way to the house, my mind kept drifting to my cold, loveless marriage with Sebastian Rock. We’d been together for six years, and in all that time, he’d never shown me an ounce of love. Sebastian was a man people feared, a ruthless Alpha King, known for his power, his dangerous reputation, and his ability to kill without mercy.

And me? I was his mate. But being his mate meant nothing. Love wasn’t part of Sebastian’s world. At least, that’s what I had convinced myself, until I saw how he treated Vashti Wayne.

Vashti, his personal assistant, got all the care and attention I never did. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, it was all so different. She was his high school sweetheart, and that seemed to matter more to him than the fact that I was his mate. Meanwhile, all I got was scorn and disdain.

As I drove, my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but I picked it up.

The voice on the other end made my throat go dry. I hated what I was hearing, but there was no way out.

“This is the last thing I want,” I muttered under my breath before speaking louder. “Fine. I’ll take over the company. But let me make this clear, when I return, you won’t interfere with my decisions.” My voice was firm, sharp.

“Deal,” the voice replied smoothly. “As long as you come back, the company is yours.”

My hand shook as I ended the call. Needing air, I pulled over to the side of the road and got out. The empty stretch of road offered nothing but silence, but I hoped the fresh air might help me think.

That’s when it happened.

A sleek black SUV with dark-tinted windows screeched to a halt in front of me. The doors swung open, and four massive men stepped out.

Their sheer size and the tattoos snaking up their necks sent a chill down my spine. I knew those marks—they were from the MoonShadow Pack. These men worked for Conri Scofield, Sebastian’s fiercest rival. Conri was the kind of Alpha who’d destroy everything just to make a point.

“You thought you could hide from us?” one of them growled, his voice cutting through the silence.

I froze, my feet glued to the ground.

Before I could respond, he lunged at me and slapped me hard across the face. The sting was immediate, and I stumbled back, hitting the car.

“I don’t know what you want!” I gasped, trying to steady myself. My voice trembled, but I forced myself to sound defiant.

They didn’t care.

One of them grabbed my wrist, twisting it until I cried out in pain. Another shoved me to the ground, his rough hands digging into my shoulders.

As I tried to stand up, one crouched down, his face inches from mine, his claws gleaming in the faint light. His growl was low and menacing, and it made my blood run cold.

“This is what happens when Sebastian Rock doesn’t keep his promises,” he growled, his breath hot against my skin. His claws pressed against my arm, not enough to cut, but enough to make my heart pound.

“If he won’t stop…” he paused, smirking, “…you’ll pay.”

That’s when I saw it, the black SUV pulling up on the street. My chest tightened. Sebastian was behind the wheel; I’d recognize his face anywhere. And next to him, Vashti Wayne, sitting in the passenger seat like she belonged there.

My stomach dropped, but I forced myself to scream. “Help me! Sebastian, please!”

For a second, his eyes met mine through the window. I stopped breathing, hoping, praying, he’d see me and do something.

But his face didn’t change. It was like he didn’t see me at all, like I wasn’t even there.

Then he did something that shattered me. He turned to Vashti, his expression softening as he gently covered her ears.

Like he's telling her not to listen, not to look, that she’ll have bad dreams.

My scream caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe it. He rolled up the window, shutting me out completely. Then he drove off like I didn’t matter.

I was left there, frozen. The sound of his car fading away was all I could hear. Tears streamed down my face as it sank in—he wasn’t coming back for me. He never planned to.

The men didn’t care about my screams. One yanked my arms behind me, pain shooting through my shoulders. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out, but tears kept falling.

“Let’s teach her a lesson,” one of them muttered.

Before I could react, I was shoved hard into the brick wall. The cold surface knocked the wind out of me. I gasped for air, panic rising.

Then I felt it—the sharp edge of his claws pressing into my side. I twisted, trying to pull away, but his grip was too strong. The claws tore through my shirt and dug into my skin. Pain exploded, sharp and hot, as blood trickled down my side.

I cried out, my voice cracking. But they didn’t stop. They didn’t care.

"Tell Sebastian this is just the beginning." Those were the last words they said before leaving.

Their voices echoed in my mind as I lay on the cold ground, barely able to move. Every part of my body hurt, my ribs felt like they were on fire, my arms were bruised, and the cuts on my face stung. But none of that compared to the ache deep in my chest, the heaviness that wouldn’t go away.

It took everything I had to get up. Each step felt like I was dragging a hundred pounds as I made my way to the pack physician. By the time I reached the clinic, I collapsed into a chair.

The room smelled strange, like antiseptic mixed with herbs. It made my stomach turn, but I didn’t have the strength to care.

The physician, an older man with a soft gaze, didn’t ask any questions. He just sighed, grabbed his tools, and started cleaning my wounds. His touch was gentle, but even that made me flinch.

I tried to block everything out, to focus on the ceiling or the dull ache in my arms. But then he said something that shattered me completely.

“You were about a month pregnant,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost like he didn’t want me to hear. “The trauma… it was too much. We couldn’t save the baby.”

At first, I couldn’t process his words. Pregnant? Baby? I wasn’t even aware. My mind spun, and I gripped the edge of the chair to keep myself from falling apart.

“I… didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The physician didn’t say anything else. He finished bandaging me up, gave my shoulder a comforting pat, and left the room.

I sat there in silence, staring at the floor. Time passed, but I didn’t move. The pain in my body didn’t matter anymore. It was the emptiness inside me that hurt the most.

When I finally made it home, the house felt lifeless. The silence wrapped around me, heavy and oppressive. I dropped onto the couch, leaving the lights off. The darkness suited my mood.

The sound of the door opening startled me. Sebastian walked in, his presence commanding as always. He carried a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and a sleek black case in the other. His suit jacket hung over his arm, and his tie was slightly undone.

He didn’t say anything to me. He tossed the case onto the table and loosened his tie. His scent filled the room, sweat and blood, sharp and overwhelming, a constant reminder of the ruthless life he led as an Alpha.

Meanwhile, I sat on the couch, barely upright, feeling more like a shadow than a person. My side ached, the stitches pulling with every tiny movement. The bandages around my belly were fresh, but they couldn’t dull the pain in my heart.

Sebastian didn’t even notice me at first. He poured himself a drink, the clink of the bottle against the glass cutting through the silence.

“Did you eat?” he asked, his tone cold and distant, like he was talking to an unruly child.

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers traced the edge of the couch cushion, trying to steady myself. He stood there, waiting, his face unreadable, his eyes cold.

Finally, I sighed and pulled up my shirt just enough to show him the neat stitches running across my side. Words weren’t needed. The silence said it all.

"The doctor said I need to avoid certain foods," I said flatly, my voice as empty as I felt.

Sebastian’s eyes flickered for a second, his gaze landing on the bandage. He didn’t linger, though. Instead, his brows furrowed slightly, as if the sight of it annoyed him more than anything else.

"Then make something that suits you," he said dismissively, like that solved everything.

I nodded, not because I agreed but because it was easier than arguing. I grabbed my phone and began scrolling for a delivery app. My thumb hovered over the screen, not really focusing on the options. My stomach growled, but I couldn’t tell if it was hunger or just nausea.

Sebastian didn’t care. He knocked back half his drink in one go, his movements smooth, controlled. He didn’t ask what had happened earlier. He didn’t ask about the pain, the message, the loss. It was as if he had walked into a different house, one where nothing was wrong.

I ordered the first thing I saw on the app without bothering to check if it matched the doctor’s restrictions. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

The silence dragged on. Sebastian poured himself another drink, his back turned to me. The weight of the day settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like he didn’t either.

But then he stopped. His glass, mid-air, hung as he turned slightly to glance at me. Something shifted in his expression, just enough to notice.

"Is your next check-up in three days?" he asked, his voice quieter this time. "Do you need someone to go with you?"

That was the last question I expected him to ask. His tone was casual, almost dismissive. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to disarm me or provoke me.

“No need,” I replied, keeping my voice as flat as possible.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, finishing his drink in one slow, deliberate sip. He set the glass down with a soft clink, and the silence stretched between us like an invisible wall.

A few minutes later, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and I caught it—a smile. Small, fleeting, but enough to sting. It wasn’t for me, of course. It was never for me.

Later that night, as I passed the guest room, I heard his voice. Low, soft, completely unlike the Sebastian I knew. I paused, curiosity overpowering my pride, and stood just outside the door.

“Don’t worry, Vashti,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. “This one’s on me. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

I froze. That tone, that gentleness—I’d never been on the receiving end of it. Not once.

The Sebastian I knew only offered sarcasm and distance. Smiles came with mockery, and words were just commands. Nothing more.

I tried to push it aside when I got to bed, but his words wouldn’t leave me. The way he said her name—Vashti—lingered like an open wound.

By morning, I told myself I didn’t care anymore. It didn’t matter. At least, that’s what I kept repeating in my head.

The apartment was unusually quiet when I woke up. I made a sandwich, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at the table. One plate, one cup. No effort for anyone but me.

The usual tension in the air was gone, or maybe I’d just stopped noticing it. Either way, I didn’t care enough to analyze it.

Sebastian walked in moments later, his presence filling the room like a shadow. He always carried himself with a quiet authority, the kind that made you feel like he owned every space he stepped into.

He paused, his eyes landing on the table. His gaze lingered on the empty spot where his breakfast used to be. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

Before he could, Erickson walked in. He is Sebastian right hand man, a strong warrior who is loyal to both his Alpha and his pack. His polished black shoes clicked against the marble floor, his tailored black suit flawless. He stopped a few feet from Sebastian, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Boss,” Erickson began, his tone steady but heavy. “We’ve confirmed it was Conri Scofield’s men who attacked Ms. Quinn yesterday.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening like stone.

Conri Scofield.

Sebastian turned to me then. The annoyance in his eyes vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous, controlled rage.

“Conri,” he repeated, the word low and sharp, sending a chill through me.

He straightened, his voice steady but laced with authority. “I want a full investigation. Every man who was there, every detail. I want to know why he targeted her.”

“Yes, boss,” Erickson said, his tone grim.

“And bring me Conri’s second-in-command by tonight,” Sebastian continued, his words colder than ice. “Alive.”

Erickson nodded again and left without another word.

Sebastian’s piercing gaze turned to me, freezing me in place. “You knew they were Conri’s men?” he asked, his voice sharp and accusing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I swallowed hard but forced my voice to stay steady. “I didn’t think it mattered. You seemed… preoccupied with more important things.”

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. His towering frame loomed over me, making the air feel heavier. “Who knows if they might follow you to get to someone, someone like Vashti?”

The words hit me like a blow. My stomach twisted, but I held my ground. Not for a second was he worried about me. It was always about Vashti.

When I didn’t respond, he glanced at the table. His voice was calm but carried a sharpness that sliced through the air.

“Where’s my food?”

I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression neutral. “I thought you didn’t like black coffee.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

We both knew the truth. He hated black coffee. But I’d always made him drink it, thinking it might help him endure the stress of being an Alpha, ruthless, feared, and unyielding, both inside and outside the Silver Claw Pack.

But this morning, I didn’t care.

The tension between us thickened, like a storm waiting to break. His expression darkened, but I refused to flinch.

I ignored his glare, lifted my cup, and downed the coffee in one swift gulp. The bitterness burned my throat, but I welcomed the sting. It matched the ache I refused to acknowledge.

I placed my plate in the sink with a deliberate clatter, grabbed my bag, and turned to leave.

“Let me take you to the office,” Sebastian said. His voice was softer, but the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface.