The Alpha's True North?
576 Words
Chloe truly couldn't decipher the clockwork inside Silas Sterling’s head.
Since the moment they met, he had been a storm of contradictions. He had humiliated her at the wedding, making her grovel for a ring in front of the press, yet he was the first to deploy his elite PR team to shield her when the internet turned toxic.
He was suing Tiffany Vance into the ground one moment, then casually suggesting that Chloe "should help her sister" the next.
His tail would curl possessively around her waist while his breath scorched her skin, but the moment things felt real, he would remind her of the cold, hard truth: this was a business merger. No feelings. No heart.
What does he actually want? If he cared about Tiffany, he would have stopped the leaks. If he didn't, why the cryptic talk about helping her?
As dawn began to bleed across the horizon, Silas sat at the desk by the window, silhouetted against the pale morning light as he reviewed documents. The rhythmic clicking of his keyboard was the only sound in the room.
"Silas," Chloe finally whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
His fingers paused above the keys. The cursor blinked on the screen, waiting.
"Was this marriage... was it always meant to be her?" Chloe gripped the hem of her robe, her courage thin. "Is Tiffany the one you actually wanted?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She had never considered that this entire nightmare might have been a failed attempt for Silas to claim the "Golden Daughter" of the Vance family.
If he loved Tiffany—if he had endured the blood feud just to reach her—then Chloe’s presence was nothing but a glitch in his grand design.
Silas slowly looked up, his eyes like a dark, bottomless sea.
"If that’s what you choose to believe, then fine," he said softly.
Chloe’s shoulders slumped, a visible shiver running through her. Her face went ghostly pale, and she bit her lip so hard it nearly bled.
Silas felt a strange, sharp pang in his chest. Looking at her standing there, framed by the cold morning light, she seemed so fragile it hurt to look at her.
His fingers curled into fists on the desk. He took a long, slow breath. "I have a board meeting. When I get back, we’ll discuss how to 'assist' your sister".
He stood and walked out of the room, the door clicking half-shut behind him. Once in the hallway, he let out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding.
What is wrong with me? This was his plan. This was his revenge. He was supposed to break the Vance family piece by piece. So why did he feel this sudden, nagging urge to protect her?
It’s impossible, he told himself. A wolf only loves once. And my mate is already dead, murdered by her people.
Then, he heard a sound from the room—the faint chime of a phone dialing.
Who would she be calling at this hour? Her father? No, the wedding had proven she was dead to the Vances. After that call with Tiffany, she wouldn't be going back for more.
Silas’s jaw tightened. Is it Julian Thorne?
His temple throbbed with a sudden, sharp spike of jealousy. He stopped in his tracks, his wolf ears flickering as he leaned back toward the door to eavesdrop.
- Writer
