"No need," I replied, my voice flat and hollow.
"Suit yourself," he muttered, draining the last of the amber liquid from his glass.
Minutes later, his phone buzzed against the stone countertop. The instant his gaze fell on the name glowing across the screen, something shifted in his face. A small smile curved the corner of his lips. The kind of smile I had been starving for across eight long years.
Later, as I padded past the guest chamber on the second floor of the pack estate, his voice drifted through the heavy oak door.
"Don't worry, Scarlett. This one's on me. I'll make it up to you tomorrow," he said, his tone warm and impossibly tender.
It was a tone I had never once heard him use for me.
The only smiles Caspian Thornecrest had ever offered me were mocking ones, sharp as bared fangs, whenever his temper flared. Beyond those, he was nothing but cold distance and silence.
But it didn't matter anymore. I refused to let it matter. The next morning, I prepared breakfast for one.
The air inside the pack estate hung heavy and still. There was a stark contrast to the usual crackling tension that saturated the den of Caspian Thornecrest, Alpha of the Thornecrest Pack.
Without delay, I plated a simple sandwich and poured a cup of black coffee. Just enough for me.
Within seconds, Caspian strode into the dining hall, every movement deliberate, his Alpha presence rolling off him like heat from a furnace. The dominance aura pressed against my skin, an invisible weight that lesser wolves would have buckled beneath.
For a moment, he paused beside the long table. His pale eyes shifted to the empty place where his breakfast used to sit.
He drew a breath, about to speak, but before he could form the words, one of his wolves entered the room. Grimshaw. His gaze was lowered, neck slightly tilted in deference to his Alpha.
He wore dark tactical gear, the leather holster at his hip carrying a silver-tipped blade that glinted under the morning light. He stopped several feet from Caspian, keeping the respectful distance expected of a Beta addressing his Alpha.
"Alpha, our scouts have confirmed it. The wolves who attacked Vivienne yesterday belonged to Lysander Ironvale's pack."
Caspian's gaze swiveled toward me. The irritation that had clouded his eyes moments ago drained away, replaced by something far more dangerous. Controlled rage. His wolf surfaced just enough to send a ripple of golden light through his irises.
"Ironvale," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried a weight that sent a chill racing down my spine. My own wolf stirred uneasily in my chest, pressing low against my ribs.
He straightened, squaring his broad shoulders. His commanding presence swelled until it filled every corner of the room. "I want a full investigation. Every wolf who was there, every detail. I want to know why the Supreme Alpha targeted her."
Grimshaw dipped his chin in agreement, his expression grim. "Yes, Alpha."
"And make sure to bring me Ironvale's Beta by tonight," Caspian added, his tone colder than a winter kill. "Alive."
Grimshaw gave a curt nod and departed without another word, his boots silent on the stone floor.
Then Caspian turned back to me. His piercing gaze locked onto mine with the full intensity of an Alpha stare, the kind meant to force submission. I held it. My wolf held it too, refusing to bare her throat.
"You knew they were Ironvale's wolves." His voice dropped low, a growl threading beneath the words. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it mattered," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "You seemed preoccupied with more important things."
He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. I caught his scent, cedar and smoke, and something bitter underneath it. Agitation. "Who knows, they might have followed your trail back to the estate. They could track somebody through you. Somebody like Scarlett."
I bit down on my lower lip as the last fragile thread of hope inside me snapped clean. Not for a single moment had he been worried about me. He was afraid they might hurt Scarlett. His precious Omega attendant. I was so foolish.
My inner wolf snarled, low and wounded, pacing restlessly behind my ribs. She wanted to shift, to let the pain bleed out through fur and fang. I held her back.
When I didn't respond, his eyes drifted to the table again. "Where's mine?"
His voice was calm on the surface, but there was a sharpness beneath it that could slice through bone.
I took a deep breath and turned to face him, my expression carefully neutral. "I thought you don't like black coffee."
When those words reached him, he didn't respond. But his jaw tightened, the muscle feathering beneath his skin. Both of us knew the truth. He hated black coffee, yet I had always forced him to drink it every single morning.
I knew the bitterness helped him endure the crushing weight of leading a pack built on aggression and blood-debts. The caffeine steadied his nerves before council gatherings and territorial disputes. This morning, I chose not to care.
I ignored his darkening gaze and downed my cup in one swift gulp. The heat burned a path down my throat, grounding me. Then I placed my plate in the sink and grabbed my satchel from the hook by the door.
"Let me take you to the den."
