7

¬Avia 

Tonight, I’m feeling brave. 

I’ve noticed since I’ve arrived that no one hangs around past midnight, so instead of going back to the compound to see Kadrick and Malin, I’m going to explore. If I get caught, I’ll just blame it on general curiosity, or perhaps I’ll blame it on home-sickness that is making me want to learn the layout of this enormous manor so I can feel more comfortable. 

Avoiding the Alpha’s quarters, I begin my exploration upstairs. Most unmarked doors I avoid, worried I may open one and it’s someone’s room. So I just stride down the hallways, relying on the small amount of light coming from lights mounted on the walls. 

Eventually I get curious enough to try a doorknob, but it remains locked. I try another, but it’s also locked. Sighing through my nose, I continue my way down the stairs to the lower level. Not much is down here that I’m not already familiar with, until I find a door at the end of a stray hallway. 

I pause, silently betting the door is going to be locked. Approaching it cautiously, my fingertips brush the brass handle, and sure enough, it turns fully, and the door opens slightly. 

Don’t do it, Avia. 

Wincing, I push the door open fully, seeing nothing more than a dark mass and a vague view of the beginning of a set of stairs. I shouldn’t go down here, not when I could be caught, but at the same time, I’m here to get information, and Zire’s identity is the only thing I’ve been able to come back with to the compound that is of any value. And if I know Malin, she is going to start to get impatient. 

Quietly, I pick my way down the dark staircase, my palms planted firmly on either side of me as I walk, patting the concrete surface blindly. 

Eventually, I see light, the sound of something smacking a soft surface drifting up to meet me. Part of me wants to turn around and run back up the stairs, but a more overwhelming part of me wants to keep investigating. So sure enough, I keep walking, until I’m able to peer around a corner to see what’s going on down here. 

I’ve ended up in some kind of basement, the space small, but it’s obvious it’s someone’s personal space, with their belongings strung about, including some articles of clothing. In the centre of the room, is Isaiah, utterly shirtless, punching a sort of makeshift contraption lined with padding, that looks an awful lot like a replica of a human body. 

For a moment, I’m convinced he’s dreaming. He looks beautiful, sweat glistening across his half-naked, muscles shifting magnificently with every strike he makes against the strange padded figure. His punches are aggressive also, filled with unrestrained anger that's been built up within him. 

For a long moment, I just stare at him, before I finally decided it’s time for me to interrupt. "Alpha...Isaiah, I mean."

He whirls around, looking at me, nestled amongst the shadows of his personal room, watching him tentatively. He looks momentarily shocked, and as the silence stretches uncomfortably between us, I wonder if I make a mistake announcing myself, but I figure I can’t help myself but to initiate a conversation with him. 

"Kenna. What are you doing down here?" he asks softly, looking over me with a gaze like molten lava. His green eyes are usually on the darker side, but now they are closer to black, like his hair that hangs down over his forehead, curling at the ends as it’s plastered to his sweaty forehead. 

"I heard banging," I say breathlessly, motioning back up the stairs. This is on an entirely different side of the estate, where I should be sleeping right now, but he doesn’t seem to notice my strange excuse. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"There are guards," he comments drily. "You're safer upstairs."

Despite his dismissal, I hold my ground. He bends over to grab a small towel from a stool, using it to rub some of the sweat from his face. He is unfairly beautiful, his physique like nothing I’ve seen before. Alpha’s are meant to be above the rest of us, but this is just borderline supernatural. He's slender, yet each muscle he has is like carved perfection, glistening under the one swinging light above us. 

I lean my shoulder against the cold concrete wall, raising a taunting brow. "Why, are you dangerous?"

"I could be. You wouldn't know,” he responds with a shrug. I don’t miss the slight tilt of his lips, even as he turns away. A deep thought thrums in my mind, reminding me that I should be using this opportunity to take in my surroundings, which I would usually not have access to. Yet I can’t bring myself to look anywhere that isn’t at him. 

When he turns around, my eyes fall on his fists, seeing the knuckles are tinged bright red, a thin trickle of blood weaving down the back of his hand. 

"You're bleeding,” I say instinctively. 

Isaiah follows my gaze, stretching his fingers out to examine the damage. "It's just my fists."

"Let me deal to that,” I exclaim, stepping closer to him. With the proximity, I can’t miss his masculine scent, and through the hint of sweat, his smells like cloves and citrus. My chance to grab his hand is missed, however, as he pulls it behind him, dark brows furrowing slightly. 

He doesn’t want me to touch him, I realise. It’s likely instinct for him, as Alpha. Finding his mate when he is probably set to marry someone else would be devastating, and even though I doubt we would be mates, I can understand his apprehension. 

"I'll be okay, Kenna," he contends. "Why don't you head upstairs."

"Join me," I ask. Talking alone, in the depths of the night are the best chance for me to expose his vulnerabilities, and hopefully gain some more trust. He’s wary of me so far, not willing to divulge much more than basic pleasantries, and I hate it. "For a drink, I mean."

He weighs the idea in his mind, tilting his head back and forth thoughtfully. "I am thirsty."

A small win. Smiling, I gesture for him to follow me, which he does, grabbing a black shirt to pull over his naked torso before leaving. We don’t exchange any words until we get to the kitchen, where Isaiah pours himself and I a glass of water. 

"You have so many guards, I wouldn't have assumed you would need to practice fighting,” I tease, leaning over the counter, resting my elbows on the cool granite surface. 

Isaiah watches me over the rim of his glass. "The guards are for everyone else in the estate."

Isaiah could hold his own in a fight, I don’t doubt that. The way he punches has technique, but it’s also tinged with aggression, with silent, restrained rage. He has a lot of anger within him, which I’m curious to know who that is focused toward. 

"People really don't like you, Isaiah,” I breathe, taking a sip of my own water. My throat is suddenly dry, his ease at keeping his gaze on me, intense like nothing I’ve felt before, unnerving. Maybe it’s a trick all Alpha’s possess, to unveil the true nature of those in their company. Me being here isn’t the first time Isaiah has been double-crossed, I imagine. 

"I'm assuming the girls informed you of my reputation already?" he mentions bitterly. They were right, he really doesn’t like them. "They work effortlessly fast."

"It must be hard, having so many people despising you.” I drain my glass, wiping a stray droplet of water from my bottom lip. Isaiah’s eyes track the movement keenly, still dark and icy, hardly the same gren that I’m used to seeing in the daylight. 

"Only if I think about it," he murmurs. "It comes with the job, I suppose."

"No, it doesn't.” At this point, I’m not sure why I’m being so confident with my words against him. Kenna would be on his side, but I can’t help myself. "There are people inland, who are suffering."

He folds his arms over his chest, jaw clenching. "It's complicated."

My voice is barely above a whisper. "Is it?"

He pushes off from where he’s leaning on the counter, rounding it to my side. I turn, pressing my back against the hard surface, not flinching away from him. I’m meant to be seducing him, and yet for some reason when he gets anywhere near me, my breath expels from my body, and I don’t know what to say anymore. 

His eyes are serious as he looks down at me, his impressive height not going unnoticed by me as he leans closer. Suddenly the temperature in the room has gone cool from the night, to hot enough my cheeks flush brightly. 

"You work for me, Kenna. Don't forget that,” he murmurs, not bothering to hide his blatant observation of me, gaze dragging down my person. Instead of cowering away, I stand up taller, jutting my chin out. If I allow myself to get carried away with Isaiah, this mission will not be successful. I have to remind myself what is at stake, what has been sacrificed for me to get this right. 

Isaiah pushes away from me, turning around to walk out the kitchen door. 

"Don't walk away from me,” I snap. Stay here and talk to me, give me more answers. 

He looks over his shoulder at me. "I don't know if you're ready for what would happen if I stayed.”

So he feels it too, the tension. Or is that a threat? I can hardly tell, and he doesn’t give me a chance to question him before he turns and walks away, as if our conversation was nothing to him. But for me, I’m breathless, and more lost than ever...