The Alpha Who Broke Me

CHAPTER THREE

KAIA

Through the frosted glass, I can see her silhouette at her desk. My old best friend. The girl who used to braid my hair during sleepovers and defend me from pack bullies. The one I abandoned without explanation when her brother shattered my heart.

She'll ask why I left. She'll ask why I'm back. What do I even say?

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside.

The office is smaller than I expected, with cream-colored walls and a view of the forest through floor-to-ceiling windows. Talia looks up from her computer, and time seems to freeze.

She's changed. Still beautiful, with the same dark hair and sharp features that mark her as a Lopez, but there's a sophistication to her now that wasn't there at eighteen. Her black blazer is tailored, expensive. A far cry from the ripped jeans and band t-shirts she used to wear.

"Kaia." My name falls from her lips like she's testing it.

I force a smile. "Hi, Talia."

She stands slowly, studying my face. I see warmth there, but also hurt. Curiosity mixed with something that might be anger.

"Seven years," she says.

"Seven years."

We stare at each other across the office, years of silence stretching between us. Then she moves around her desk, and suddenly we're hugging. It's tentative, not the easy closeness we once shared, but it's something.

"You look different," she says when we pull apart. "Stronger. But why now, Kaia?"

I sink into the chair across from her desk, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "My mom is sick. Cancer. The treatments are expensive, and—"

"And you need money." Talia settles back into her chair, her expression softening. "I'm sorry. About your mother."

"Thank you."

She leans forward, elbows on her desk. "But that doesn't explain why you left without a word. Do you know what it felt like when you just vanished? One day we're planning your eighteenth birthday party, the next you're gone. No goodbye, no explanation. Was I not worth the truth?"

The pain in her voice cuts deep. I look down at my hands, searching for words that won't destroy what little chance I have at this job.

"I needed to escape," I say finally. "This place, the pack politics, the way people looked at me. I felt suffocated."

It's not entirely a lie. I did feel suffocated—by shame, by humiliation, by the knowledge that I'd been nothing more than entertainment for the Alpha's heir.

Talia studies me for a long moment. "You could have talked to me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She sighs, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I'm still angry you vanished. But you're here now. And I won't let you starve." A small smile tugs at her lips. "You're hired."

Relief floods through me so suddenly my eyes water. "Just like that?"

"You were always the smartest person I knew. And I've seen your resume—marketing degree, three years of experience. You're overqualified for this position, which means you're desperate enough to work hard."

I laugh, surprising myself. "Brutally honest as always."

"It's a Lopez family trait."

The mention of her family makes my stomach clench, but I keep my expression neutral. "When do I start?"

"Monday. Eight AM sharp." She stands, extending her hand. "Welcome to Moonfang Construction, Ms. Dawson."

I shake her hand, trying to ignore the formality in her tone. We used to be Kaia and Talia, best friends who shared everything. Now I'm Ms. Dawson, an employee she's taking a chance on.

"I should go," I say, gathering my purse. "Thank you, Talia. Really."

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't met your boss."

I freeze. "My boss?"

She grins, and for a moment she looks like the girl I used to know. "Did I forget to mention? You'll be working directly with our CEO."

My blood turns to ice. "Vincent?"

"Vincent."

I force myself to breathe. "That's fine. I'm sure we'll be very professional."

Talia's eyes narrow slightly, like she's picking up on something I'm trying to hide. But before she can ask questions I'm not ready to answer, I'm already moving toward the door.

"I'll see you Monday," I say over my shoulder.

The moment I step into the hallway, I feel the weight of eyes on me. A group of office workers stands near the elevator, their conversation dying as I pass. I catch the whispered word "omega" under someone's breath, followed by a snort of laughter.

At the reception desk, a young clerk stares at me with open curiosity, like I'm some exotic animal that wandered into the wrong habitat. Her gaze travels from my discount blazer to my worn flats, cataloging every sign that I don't belong here.

"Omega chasing scraps," mutters a man in an expensive suit as he brushes past me toward the conference room. His lip curls in disgust, like my presence somehow contaminates the air.

I keep my head high, my spine straight. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I survived in the human world, built a life for myself outside this suffocating hierarchy. I can survive a few sneering wolves.

The pack hadn't changed. Omegas would always be the bottom rung.

But this job means steady pay. It means medicine for my mother. It means the difference between watching her die and giving her a fighting chance. Even if it costs me every scrap of pride I have left, I'll endure their contempt.

I steeled myself through worse when I left. I can steel myself through this, too.

That familiar scent—warm spice and cedar—hits me like a physical force as I near the lobby. My wolf perks up instantly, every nerve in my body coming alive. It's stronger here, more concentrated, like he's close.

Too close.

I'm halfway to the exit when I see him.

Vincent Lopez stands at the other end of the hallway, talking to a man in a hard hat. Even from a distance, he's imposing—taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders. Time has carved him into something magnificent and dangerous, all sharp angles and controlled power. His dark hair is shorter now, professional, but it still falls across his forehead in that devastating way that used to make my teenage heart flutter.

He's beautiful. God, he's still so beautiful it makes my chest ache.

Time should have dimmed the impact of him, should have made him ordinary in my memory. Instead, seeing him now feels like staring directly into the sun—blinding, overwhelming, impossible to look away from.

My wolf purrs deep in my chest, the same sound she made the very first time I laid eyes on him. Back then, I'd waited breathlessly for her to confirm what I hoped—that he was my mate. But the confirmation never came. Even now, the pull toward him feels exactly like the mate bond descriptions I'd heard whispered among other wolves, yet still... nothing. Just this inexplicable magnetism that defies explanation.

He looks up, and our eyes meet across the space between us.

The world stops.

The man he's talking to follows his gaze, says something I can't hear, then walks away. Vincent doesn't even acknowledge his departure. His dark eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath, and then he's moving.

Each step is measured and deliberate, a predator who's spotted exactly what he's been hunting. There's no hesitation, no pause to consider whether he should approach. He cuts through the space between us like it belongs to him—like everything in this building, including me, belongs to him.

My wolf whimpers, torn between the urge to run and the inexplicable desire to close the distance between us myself. I force myself to stand my ground, lifting my chin as he gets closer. Closer. Until he stops just near enough that his scent overwhelms me—that warm spice and cedar that makes my pulse spike and my knees threaten to buckle.

"Kaia." My name falls from his lips like a prayer, soft and reverent and completely at odds with the confusion written across his perfect features.

"Hi," I manage, proud that my voice doesn't shake.

He parts his lips, and I can see a million questions there, pressing against his teeth, demanding answers. But what comes out instead catches me off guard.

"You're back."

The simple statement hangs between us, weighted with years of silence. I straighten my shoulders, calling on every ounce of professionalism I can muster.

"I am. I hope we can keep things professional between us—you know, not let the past get in the way of work."

The words are crisp, businesslike. Casual. Like we're discussing quarterly reports instead of the wreckage of whatever we used to be.

Vincent's face goes blank with shock. Then his brows draw together, confusion and something that might be hurt flickering across his features.

"Work?" He looks genuinely confused now. "What are you talking about? Why are you even here?"

"I just got hired. I'll be working here starting Monday."

The color drains from his face. "You'll be working... here? At Moonfang?"

"I'm your new assistant." I keep my voice steady, professional. "I hope we can keep things strictly business between us."

The words hit him like a physical blow. For a long moment, he just stares at me, processing. Then something shifts in his expression—confusion giving way to something sharper.

"Business?" His voice is quiet, dangerous. "Kaia, it's been years. Seven years of nothing, and you show up here pretending this is just another job?"

"That's exactly what it is. Don't let our past complicate that."

"Like hell it doesn't." The words explode out of him, all that careful control finally snapping. "You think you can just waltz back into my life, act like we meant nothing to each other, and expect me to go along with it?"

I meet his fury with ice-cold calm. "I think you can be professional enough to separate business from whatever you think we had."

"Whatever I think we had?" He steps closer, and I can see the barely leashed anger in every line of his body. "We had everything, Kaia. And you threw it away without a word."

A smile tugs at my lips—cold, amused. How precious that he thinks anything could happen between us after what he did. After what I know about him, about the kind of man who would seduce an omega on a dare and laugh about it with his friends.

"That's sweet that you think so," I say, my voice honey-sweet with false warmth.

I turn and walk away before he can respond, before he can corner me with more questions I'll never answer. If he wants the truth, he'll have to suffer for it first. Just like I did.