Beyond The Alpha Reach

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.