Primal Instinct

8– BREAKFAST POLITICS

The sun came up too bright for how little I’d slept.

The mountain air poured through my open balcony doors, sharp and clean, but I felt anything but refreshed. My body was heavy, my head dull, and my eyes looked like I’d spent the night losing an argument with gravity. Still, Lyric had texted at dawn, Breakfast at the main house. Don’t skip it.

So I didn’t.

The estate’s main dining hall looked like a spread out of Architectural Digest with a long oak table, glass walls looking out over the valley, morning light spilling across marble floors. The smell of fresh coffee should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t, there was fresh fruit, carafes of dark coffee, pastries that I didn’t have the energy to appreciate.

And at the head of it all, Trenton Steele. Placed like he was born to be the center of it. Dark suit, open collar, gold chain glinting faintly against bronze skin. A woman I didn’t recognize sat pressed close beside him, all honey-blonde hair, polished charm with too much make-up and perfume. She laughed softly at something he didn’t say. He didn’t even look at her.

Lyric spotted me hovering by the doorway. “Morning, sunshine,” she called lightly. “You look—” She hesitated, giving me a once-over. “—like the mountain chewed you up a little.”

“Altitude sickness,” I said, managing a weak smile. “Apparently my lungs hate change.”

“Don’t we all?” She poured me coffee and gestured for me to sit between her and Damien.

The conversation at the table was warm and easy. Damien and Elias, the Gamma, I’d learned, traded barbs about pack logistics, while a few of the warriors shared jokes that had the room buzzing. It felt less like a company breakfast, more like family… or something close enough to pretend.

Elias looked over at me, grinning. “So, city girl. You survived your first day. Impressive. Most people last three hours before they start googling ‘escape routes from mountain towns.’”

I smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That’s how I meant it,” he said, eyes glinting with mischief.

Before I could respond, one of the warriors further down with dark skin, easy smile, shoulders that didn’t quit, leaned forward. “You must be something special to make it past Steele’s first impression. He doesn’t usually keep the new ones.”

I laughed softly. “Lucky me?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe you’re just stubborn.”

“Depends who you ask.”

“If you need someone to keep an eye on you,” he said, “I volunteer.”

I smirked. “Do you come with references? I hear those are properly vetted around here.”

“Plenty,” he said easily. “Most of them say I’m a terrible influence.”

“I think I believe it.” He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated pleasantly through the table. For the first time since last night, I almost felt normal again. The exchange was harmless, light, funny.

“Ronan.”The name snapped across the table like a whip. Trenton’s voice wasn’t raised, but it carried like thunder rolling through quiet space.

The warrior’s smile faltered. “Yes, Alpha?”

“Do you not have duties this morning?” Trenton asked without looking up from his plate. His tone was even, but something about it crawled under the skin, the promise beneath it.

“I—uh, we were just talking.”

“Seems like you have energy to spare,” Trenton said. He set his fork down slowly. “I’ll have Lyric schedule you an extra patrol rotation this week.”

Ronan’s mouth opened, closed. “Of course, sir.”

“Good.” Finally, he looked up but not at Ronan. At me. “I expect everyone under my roof to start their day focused. Not distracted.”

The meaning hit like a slap, though he never said my name. My stomach sank.

Lyric sighed, picking at her fruit. “You can’t keep terrorizing everyone,Trent? It’s breakfast, not basic training.”

He ignored her, returning to his food with surgical precision. The woman beside him leaned in, whispering something close to his ear. He didn’t respond, didn’t move, just let her voice fill the space beside him while his eyes flicked back to his screen. I tried to focus on my plate, but the room felt colder, heavier. My appetite was gone.

Lyric nudged me lightly. “Seriously, how are you feeling this morning? You scared me last night.”

I kept my voice low. “Better. Still sore. That drink you gave me helped.”

Before she could answer, his voice cut in again, sharp enough to slice the air between us.

“Drink?” The word held nothing but curiosity, but it pulled everyone’s attention.

Lyric shot me a subtle warning look before smiling at him. “Altitude sickness,” she said smoothly. “She got a little lightheaded last night. I gave her one of Mom’s tonics.”

Trenton’s eyes shifted to me. He studied my face like he was searching for a lie. “You do look like hell,” he said finally. “I hope whatever that was isn’t contagious. We have too much work for weakness today.”

The woman beside him tittered. “That’s not very nice, Trent.”

He didn’t glance her way. “I don’t hire people to look nice. I hire them to function. And if she’s already breaking down, that’s a problem.”

Heat rushed to my face. “I’m fine,” I said quietly.

“Then I look forward to you proving it,” he said. He turned his attention away, just like that. The dismissal was clean. Final. The conversation at the table hesitated, then resumed, lighter again, pretending the moment hadn’t happened.

Lyric muttered under her breath, “Ignore him. He’s in one of his moods.”

“A mood? This is the only one I’ve ever seen. Which one is this?” I asked, voice tight.

“The kind that makes grown men cry,” Damien said dryly.

Elias snorted, “And women quit.”

“Bet,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Good thing I don’t cry or quit easily.”

“Yeah,” Damien said, watching me too closely. “I’m starting to believe that.”

I finished my coffee in silence, staring down at my plate while Trenton carried on as if I wasn’t even there, surrounded by people, by noise, but still the center of gravity in the room. Every few minutes I caught the faintest flicker of silver from his eyes when the light hit them. Probably a trick of the sun. Probably.

When breakfast ended, I pushed back my chair. Lyric started to follow, but Trenton’s voice stopped both of us.

“Ms. Carter.”

I froze. “Yes?”

“Office. Ten minutes.”

That was all. No explanation, no expression. Just command. The rest of the table fell quiet again, waiting for the storm to pass that hadn’t even started yet.

I nodded once, steadying my breath. “Yes, Mr. Steele.”

His eyes lingered a second too long. Then he stood, leaving the room like gravity itself followed him out the door.

Lyric exhaled. “He’s worse than usual.”

Damien gave her a look. “You think she caused it?”

Lyric’s gaze flicked to me. “No. I think she woke it.”

They thought I didn’t hear. But I did. Every word. And as I made my way down the hall, the ache in my chest returned, faint, pulsing. Like something alive under my skin that wouldn’t stay buried.