The Alpha I Was Sent To Betray

Chapter 4: The First real Encounter

Kieran

I didn't see him at first. I just knew. My body knew before my brain caught up—shoulders curling inward, breath shortening, patch burning against my wrist like a warning. The twins noticed immediately. Of course they did. Leo's grin flickered. Luca's silver eyes slid past me, toward the door.

"There you are," one of them said, I don't know which one but one of them had spoken. "We were just making friends with your new IT boy."

I turned and immediately regretted it because near the entrance Dante Moretti stood there, green eyes eyes fixed on me. He'd changed suits since this morning—this one was navy, tailored within an inch of its life. His eyes flickered to the twins for a second then he was looking at me again.

And this wasn't like the photograph. The photograph had been intimidating, sure, but it was ink on paper. A two-dimensional threat. This was real. This was a Wolf Alpha in his own territory, and every Omega instinct I'd spent years suppressing was suddenly very, very awake.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to leave but apparently my legs disagreed.

"Mr. Voss." His voice was low and calm. The same voice from this morning, but up close it vibrated through me like a bass note.

"Mr. Moretti." My voice came out thin. "Sir. I was just—coffee. Getting coffee. I should—"

"Luca." Dante's gaze hadn't left mine. "Stop interrogating the staff."

"I wasn't interrogating. I was bonding."

“You cornered him in front of a coffee machine.”

Luca looked offended.

“That's an unfair interpretation of events.”

Beside him, Leo popped his bubblegum loudly. “No, actually, that's exactly what happened.”

"Traitor," said Luca

"Realist."

Dante ignored them both. He was still looking at me, and I was still frozen in place, and my coffee was definitely cold now, as I resisted the urge to scratch my patch, and I couldn't remember a single reason why taking prison might have been the worse option.

"Your first day," Dante said. Not a question. "Yes, sir."

"And you've already met my brothers."

"Unfortunately," I said. Then right there, I wanted to die. Somebody shot me.

The word had just come out. Reflex. The kind of thing I'd say to Jamie when we were complaining about our days, the kind of sarcastic slip that was second nature and absolutely, catastrophically inappropriate in this context.

Leo's eyebrows shot up and Luca's mouth curved into something dangerous.

But Dante—

Dante's expression didn't change. His green eyes held mine, and for a long, terrible moment, I couldn't read him at all. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. And I could feel my stomach doing a weird flip, probably the food from this morning coming up.

"Unfortunately," he repeated. "You're not wrong."

Leo gasped. "I'm wounded."

"You'll survive." Dante stepped aside, clearing the path to the elevator. "Carry on, Mr. Voss. Don't let them keep you."

I didn't run because running would have been undignified. But I did walk very, very fast, and behind me, I heard Leo laugh. "I like that one."

"Don't," Dante said.

"Too late."

The elevator doors slid closed and I pressed my forehead against the cool metal wall. My reflection stared back at me—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, glasses slightly askew.

My patch itched. My coffee was cold. I'd just accidentally insulted the supposedly most dangerous man in the country's family infront of him and he'd almost smiled.

The elevator stopped at B2. The doors opened. I stepped out into the fluorescent glare of the IT bullpen and walked to my cramped little cubicle and sat down in my cheap office chair.

The thumb drive Morales had given me was still in my pocket. A small, cold weight against my thigh.

Level 80.

I was never going to make it.

But some terrible, traitorous part of me—which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

Except that some stupid part of my brain kept replaying that almost-smile like it meant something.

I told that part to shut up, but it didn't listen.