The Alpha Who Broke Me

CHAPTER SEVEN

KAIA

It's been three days since the late-night incident with Vincent, and I've been doing my best to ignore what happened. Whatever I felt when he touched my wrist—whatever that electric pull was—I buried it deep. We're keeping things strictly professional now. Polite emails, brief interactions during meetings, and absolutely no more after-hours encounters.

Which is why I'm sitting in the corner of the conference room with my notepad, doing my job as his assistant while Vincent meets with Derek Homes, the contractor from Riverside Holdings. What should have been a routine project update has quickly devolved into something uglier.

"The foundation specs were clear from day one," Vincent says, his voice carefully controlled. He's wearing a charcoal gray suit today, perfectly pressed, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. "Moonfang Construction doesn't cut corners."

Homes, a heavyset man in his fifties with thinning hair and a perpetual scowl, leans back in his chair with obvious disdain. "Clear specs don't mean s**t when you can't deliver on time. My investors are breathing down my neck, and I've got a building that should have been framed two weeks ago."

I keep my pen moving across the page, taking notes, but I'm watching Vincent carefully. His jaw is tight, and there's something different about his scent—sharper, more intense.

"Weather delays aren't within our control," Vincent replies, but his voice has dropped an octave. "The soil samples came back—"

"I don't want to hear about soil samples!" Homes slams his hand on the table, making the coffee cups jump. "I want results! You Lopez boys always think you can coast on your family name, but money talks louder than reputation."

Vincent goes very still. I can see his hands slowly curling into fists on the table, and my wolf suddenly perks up with alarm. The air in the room seems to thicken, charged with something dangerous.

"Excuse me?" Vincent's voice is deadly quiet now.

Homes either doesn't notice the warning signs or doesn't care. "You heard me. Your old man might have built this company, but that doesn't mean you can jerk my clients around. I've got other contractors chomping at the bit for this contract."

The temperature in the room spikes. I swear I can feel heat radiating from Vincent's direction, and his scent shifts again—from sharp to something wild and predatory that makes every instinct I have scream danger.

"Mr. Homes," Vincent says, and I can hear the growl underlying his words. "I suggest you reconsider your tone."

But Homes is on a roll now, leaning forward aggressively. "Or what? You'll sue me? Your lawyers can get in line behind mine. I don't care who you think you are—money talks, and right now, you're costing me plenty."

Vincent's chair scrapes back as he stands abruptly. His movements are too fluid, too predatory, and I can see his canines have extended slightly. His eyes are completely black now, no trace of their usual dark brown, and a low rumble builds in his chest.

Homes finally seems to realize something is wrong. He blinks up at Vincent, confusion replacing his aggression. "What the hell—"

The growl that escapes Vincent is purely wolf, reverberating through the conference room with enough force to make the windows vibrate. Homes jerks back in his chair, his face going pale, but he's human—he has no idea what he's looking at.

I need to do something. Now.

My heart hammers as I stand, my legs feeling unsteady. Every survival instinct tells me to run from an Alpha on the edge of shifting, but Homes is about to witness something that could expose our entire species.

"Mr. Lopez?" I say softly, stepping closer to the table. "The environmental impact reports Homes requested came in this morning. I have them right here."

I don't have any reports. I'm completely improvising, but I need to break through whatever primal rage has taken hold of Vincent before he does something irreversible.

Vincent's head snaps toward me, his black eyes fixing on mine with predatory focus. For a second, I think he doesn't recognize me. The wolf is too close to the surface, and I'm just another threat to eliminate.

But then I take another step closer, and something remarkable happens.

The moment I'm within arm's reach, the growling stops. Vincent blinks rapidly, like he's trying to clear his vision, and the black slowly recedes from his eyes. His breathing, which had been coming in sharp pants, begins to slow and deepen.

"I..." He looks around the room, taking in Homes's terrified expression, the scattered papers on the table, and his own aggressive stance. Confusion replaces the rage in his features. "Yes. The reports."

I hand him a random folder from my stack, our fingers brushing for just a second. The contact sends warmth shooting up my arm, and Vincent's entire body seems to relax at the touch. His canines retract completely, and his posture shifts from threatening to merely tall.

"Thank you, Ms. Dawson," he says quietly, his voice completely steady now. He sounds like himself again—controlled, professional, human.

Homes is staring at both of us like we've lost our minds. "What the hell was that? You looked like you were about to... I don't know, attack me or something."

"Project stress," I say smoothly, opening the folder and pulling out a random environmental survey. "Mr. Lopez has been working eighteen-hour days to keep your timeline on track. These reports show we can accelerate the foundation work if we bring in additional crews."

I have no idea what the survey actually says, but I keep talking, making up details about soil composition and weather windows while Vincent collects himself. By the time I finish my impromptu presentation, Homes seems mollified, even eager to get out of the room.

"Well," he says, gathering his things with obvious relief. "That's more like it. I'll expect those additional crews on site by Monday."

"Of course," Vincent replies smoothly, back to his composed Alpha demeanor.

Homes leaves quickly, probably eager to escape the weird tension that had filled the room. As soon as the door closes behind him, Vincent and I are alone.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. Vincent is staring at me with an expression I can't read—part confusion, part wonder, part something else entirely.

"What just happened?" he asks finally.

I busy myself gathering the scattered papers, avoiding his gaze. "You almost shifted in front of a human. I prevented what could have been a catastrophic exposure."

"That's not what I meant." His voice is soft, but there's an intensity underneath that makes my skin prickle. "Kaia, I was gone. My wolf was ready to tear Homes apart, and I couldn't pull back. I've never lost control like that."

I shrug, trying to appear casual despite the way my hands are shaking. "You were stressed. It happens."

"No." He steps closer, and I can feel his gaze on me like a physical touch. "When you came near me, it was like someone threw ice water on a wildfire. The rage just... disappeared. My wolf went from attack mode to calm in seconds. That doesn't just happen."

Neither have I ever experienced anything like what I felt in that moment. When I stepped toward him, something inside me had shifted, like a door opening that I didn't even know existed.

There had been this overwhelming urge to soothe, to comfort, to make his wolf settle. And when our fingers touched, it felt like completing a circuit—energy flowing between us in a way that made no sense.

But I'm not about to admit any of that.

***

The rest of the day passes in a blur of emails and project updates, but I can't shake the memory of what happened in the conference room. Every time I glance toward Vincent's office, I catch him watching me with that same expression of confused wonder.

By six PM, most of the office has cleared out, but I stay at my desk, trying to lose myself in mundane tasks. Anything to avoid thinking about supernatural abilities I don't understand, and the way Vincent's touch made electricity dance under my skin.

When I finally gather my things to leave, the parking garage is mostly empty. My footsteps echo off the concrete walls as I make my way toward my Honda, keys already in my hand.

I'm halfway to my car when I catch a scent that makes me pause. Wolf. Male. Unfamiliar.

I glance around but don't see anyone. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows between the concrete pillars, and every corner could hide a potential threat. The feeling of being watched crawls up my spine like ice.

I pick up my pace, my wolf stirring uneasily. Pack territories are usually safe, but there's something about this scent that sets off alarm bells. It's not a pack, but it's not completely foreign either.

A shadow moves near the stairwell, and I catch a glimpse of a figure ducking behind a pillar. My heart starts hammering, but I force myself to keep walking normally. Running would only trigger a chase response.

I'm almost to my car when Jake Reeves, one of the construction workers, emerges from behind a van about thirty feet away. He's a low-ranking wolf, probably mid-twenties, with the kind of cocky swagger that usually comes from wolves who are trying to prove themselves.

"Hey there, Kaia," he calls out, starting to walk toward me with obvious intent. His smile is predatory, and his scent carries notes of aggression and something else—interest that makes my skin crawl.

But then he gets within about ten feet of me and stops abruptly.

His nostrils flare like he's scenting the air more carefully, and his entire demeanor shifts. The cocky confidence melts away, replaced by something that looks almost like... confusion? His head tilts slightly, and he takes another deep breath.

Then his expression changes completely. The predatory interest vanishes, replaced by what looks like genuine surprise. Maybe even respect.

"I... uh..." He actually takes a step back, his gaze dropping from my face to the ground in a gesture of submission that makes no sense. "Sorry. Thought you were someone else."

Without another word, he turns and walks away quickly, like he's suddenly remembered somewhere urgent he needs to be.

I stand there for a long moment, watching him disappear into the stairwell. What the hell was that about? Jake Reeves has never shown me an ounce of respect in the two weeks I've been working here. If anything, he's been one of the wolves who makes snide comments about "omega secretaries" when he thinks I can't hear.

But just now, he'd looked at me like I was something he didn't expect. Like my scent had told him something that changed his entire perception of who I was.

First, Vincent's strange reaction to my calming touch, now this. What's happening to me?

I unlock my car and slide into the driver's seat, my hands shaking slightly as I start the engine. In the rearview mirror, I catch sight of another figure near the parking garage entrance—tall, unfamiliar, watching my car with obvious interest.

But when I blink and look again, he's gone.

The drive home feels longer than usual, my mind racing with questions I can't answer. What did I do to Vincent in that conference room? Why did Jake react to my scent like that? And who was watching me in the parking garage?