I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, wincing at the bright red mark blossoming across my cheek. The sting burned like a wolf's bite, a vivid reminder of the fight I'd just endured. "Chase them out!" I commanded, my voice sharp, carrying the authority of someone who guarded her own pack.
Felicia's eyes flared with agreement, her loyalty unquestionable. But Naomi, ever audacious, planted herself firmly and growled, "I am Anastasia's stepmother, and I have a private business to settle with her!" Her tone reeked of entitlement, of someone who thought she could dominate my territory.
"I don't care who you are," Felicia shot back, her voice calm but deadly, like a wolf baring teeth at a rival. "This is a company, not the backyard of your house. If you refuse to leave, I'll bring the law down on you."
Naomi's fangs figurative, but visible in her glare snapped back. She knew she couldn't escalate this, so she grabbed Erica's arm and spat, "Let's go. We'll settle this later." With that, they stormed off, tails stiff with frustration.
I bit my lip, tasting the metallic tang of anger mingled with pain. As I watched them leave, the office seemed different, charged with a new energy. The staff who had been mere onlookers now regarded me with a mixture of awe and wariness. Despite my slight frame, I had shown the bite of someone who would protect her pack at all costs.
Felicia leaned closer, her voice low. "What's wrong with you, Anastasia? Why are people always trying to pick a fight with you?"
I exhaled slowly, calming the rush of my instincts. "I'll try my best not to let personal matters spill into the office," I promised, the words a silent oath to my pack and to my own sense of order.
I returned to my office and reached for a hair tie, preparing to bind my hair into a functional knot, but the sharp trill of the landline made me pause. I picked it up, wary, my senses on edge. "Hello?"
"Got into a fight again?" The deep, low voice of Elliot carried through the line, threaded with exasperation and concern, a resonance that stirred something primal in me.
I froze for a moment, astonished. How had news of my skirmish reached him so fast? Then I remembered the office was full of gossiping wolves, each eager to share prey news.
"Good news," I said, letting a mischievous lilt creep into my voice. "I won."
There was a pause, and then his voice, steady and commanding like the Alpha he was, rumbled through the phone. "And you still have the courage to brag? You're a mother now; it's unbecoming to be fighting all the time."
I let out a soft laugh, though it hurt as I shifted my hand to my face. "I'll hang up now. My face hurts," I hissed, ending the call before he could lecture me further.
Moments later, Rey appeared at my office door, moving silently like a loyal pack member. He held an ice pack out to me, his expression neutral but alert. "President Presgrave asked me to deliver this. Please be more careful next time, Miss Tillman."
I looked at him, the burn of pride and the ache in my face blending together. With a small nod, I accepted the ice pack. "Thank you, Rey." The coolness pressed against my cheek, a relief against the lingering sting of dominance asserted, territory defended, and my pack my son and my honor protected.
I pressed the ice pack against my cheek, letting the cool sting dull the burn from Naomi and Erica's attacks. Rey lingered at the door for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You should thank President Presgrave," he said, then slipped out like a loyal shadow, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the strange satisfaction that the contract was still in my hands.
I stared at it, disbelief and gratitude tangled together in my chest. My father had actually bought me a house without asking, without warning. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number, my instincts wary but my heart needing connection.
"What's the matter, Anastasia?" His voice, calm and steady, always had that grounding effect, like the presence of an Alpha who could silence the chaos in a pack.
"Dad… why didn't you tell me you bought a house for me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even but unable to hide the incredulity.
There was a pause, and then he chuckled softly. "How did you know?"
"Naomi herself delivered the contract to my office. Dad… please, don't do things like this without telling me. She gets upset easily," I warned, the protective part of me the part that guarded my son and myself speaking.
"I've been feeling guilty about the past five years," he said quietly. "Consider this my way of making it up to you. You can move in next month."
"Thanks, Dad," I murmured, relief washing over me. My fingers tightened around the phone. "I also want a stable home for Jared and me," he added, the weight of his voice carrying the care and authority of a pack leader providing for his own.
Meanwhile, Rey was reporting in the president's office, replaying the CCTV footage from earlier in the main office for Elliot. My movements, my dominance over Erica, the way I defended myself and my son it all played back in stark, vivid detail. Elliot's eyes narrowed, scanning my every action, brows drawn together in thought.
Mistress? Love child? Selling myself at a club five years ago? His jaw tightened as he digested it, instinctive disbelief fighting with a strange spark of respect. The footage showed me slapping Erica, gripping her hair, pinning her down. Another woman had rushed in to attack me, but I retaliated swiftly, my reflexes honed from instinct, from years of surviving challenges. Then Felicia intervened, restoring order.
Elliot's voice cut through the recording. "Can you find out who fathered Anastasia's son?"
"Our people overseas could only locate hospital records confirming Miss Tillman gave birth," Rey replied. "No information about the child's father."
Elliot's dark gaze lingered on the screen, muscles tensing as his mind ran through every possibility. Could it be true? Was she a mistress forced to escape, raising her pup alone? And the club was it survival, necessity, or something more?
I felt a shiver at the thought of him analyzing me like that, a mixture of predator and protector. In that moment, I realized the Alpha didn't just command the pack; he assessed threats, gauged strength, and whether he admitted it or not respected a mate who could defend herself and her young.
And somewhere deep in me, my instincts flared, sensing his scrutiny, his dominance, and the unspoken question hovering between us: Could he be the one to stand beside me, to claim my pack, or would he remain a silent Alpha, watching from afar?