Chapter 8

Isla’s POV

My body shook violently as I buried my face into Killian’s chest, the scent of pine and smoke grounding me even as my lungs strained for air.

“You’re safe now,” his voice came low, rough, close to my ear, the words cutting through the chaos, steady and sharp like a blade. “You hear me? No one’s hurting you again. You’re safe.”

I couldn’t answer.

The sobs kept coming, my shoulders trembling against him, the weight of the suffocating dark still curling tight around my chest.

Killian didn’t speak again, but his arms never loosened. He held me so firm but careful, carrying me effortlessly up the grand staircase.

I tried to steady my breathing, wiping my damp cheeks with trembling hands. His footsteps echoed down the long hall, neither of us speaking for a moment.

I could feel his eyes on me, the unspoken question in the way his jaw clenched — he wanted to know why the dark shattered me like that. But he didn’t push, didn’t demand answers I wasn’t ready to give.

Instead, his voice softened slightly, quiet but with the same commanding edge beneath it — terrifyingly certain. “As long as you’re under my roof, under my protection, nothing will scare you again, not even the dark or them. I promise you, my little flower.”

Them. The monsters in my past. The ones still lingering in the corners of my mind.

I said nothing, but my head found his shoulder, my body curling into his warmth, and exhaustion pulled me under faster than I could fight it.

***

When sunlight finally stirred me awake, the heaviness from the night before still lingered faintly in my chest, but the room, bright, spacious, unfamiliar, reminded me I wasn’t at Red Ridge anymore.

The knock came sharp and quick, followed by Sasha’s clipped voice. “Rise and shine, Flower.”

The nickname made my heart jolt, though I didn’t correct her.

Sasha breezed in, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted blouse, sharp as ever. She tugged the curtains wide, sunlight spilling across the bed.

I groaned, shielding my eyes. “Morning enthusiasm isn’t necessary.”

“It is when the Lycan King expects you suited and downstairs in ten minutes ma'am,” Sasha replied, tossing a sleek outfit onto the chair by the window.

I sat up, stretching, my fingers instinctively brushing over the faint mark at my nape. Sheila’s balm concealed it well, but I definitely will still wrap a light scarf around my neck for good measure.

The outfit Sasha picked was simple but elegant , fitted black trousers, a soft cream blouse that hugged my waist, and sleek heels. Practical but… polished. My stomach twisted tighter.

After dressing, I headed downstairs, nerves prickling as I entered the dining room.

Downstairs, I found Killian already seated at the table, quietly eating. His sleeves were rolled up, the top buttons of his shirt undone again, hinting at the tattoos beneath. His dark hair was damp, pushed back carelessly, making him look maddeningly perfect in a way that shouldn’t be legal.

And as if he hadn’t practically panicked last night over my breakdown, his expression now was cold, distant, his eyes unreadable. He looked nothing like the man who carried me from the floor last night.

His eyes flicked to mine briefly. “Eat,” he instructed, tone curt, already turning back to the documents spread before him. “We leave in ten.”

I hesitated, sliding into the seat opposite him. His indifference dug under my skin, last night’s memory clashing with his current composure.

That was it — no acknowledgment of last night, no softness, just pure, calculated command.

I hovered for a second, debating whether to bring it up. He raised his head in a furrowed brow when he noticed I wasn't eating, his amber eyes lingered on mine for a beat longer than necessary, making my pulse trip over itself.

I looked away fast, shoving food onto my plate. My appetite warred with the nerves knotting in my chest.

I barely tasted my food, my gaze drifting to him, the tension between us thick enough to suffocate.

By the time I finished and joined him silently, I settled into the seat beside him. The leather interior smelled faintly of cedar and steel, sharp and clean. Killian was already inside, his attention buried in an iPad, fingers tapping effortlessly across the screen.

The silence stretched, heavy, awkward.

I bit my lip, nerves fraying, mind racing to bring up last night , to thank him, to apologize for falling apart, but before I could speak, his voice cut in, smooth and dangerously low.

“If you don’t intend to acknowledge the mate bond,” Killian murmured, eyes still fixed on his screen, “don’t bite your lips like that.”

My heart stumbled in my chest. I snapped my head toward him, wide-eyed. I dropped my sweaty hand to my lap.

Heat flooded my face. Killian’s lips curved faintly, the smallest hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise impassive expression.

“S-Sorry,” I muttered, hating how breathless my voice sounded.

His amber eyes flicked to me briefly, sharp, knowing, before returning to his screen.

The city blurred past outside as the car glided toward the towering building ahead, Killian’s company. I recognized it instantly. A name I knew too well from whispered conversations, news articles, and the quiet envy of wolves who dared dream that big.

I opened my mouth, finally mustering the courage to thank him, or at least mention last night, but his phone buzzed sharply, cutting me off.

The driver announced, “We’ve arrived, Alpha.”

The words died on my tongue.

Killian stepped out, not waiting, Liam trailing behind him.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself out of the car and trailing after them.

The lobby was massive, sleek floors gleaming, glass panels stretching to the ceiling. Employees bustled everywhere, but the second Killian stepped in, the air shifted.

Everyone froze, heads bowed, greetings murmured with quiet reverence.

And then… their eyes shifted to me.

Curious, lingering stares followed as I kept my head down, following Killian into the private elevator. Liam said nothing, but I felt his sharp gaze assessing me the entire ride.

Killian’s office was breathtaking — floor-to-ceiling windows with sweeping city views, a space dominated by sharp lines and muted power. It felt like him.

I adjusted the scarf at my neck, hiding the mark beneath. Sheila’s balm helped, but I didn’t need anyone sniffing me out yet.

Killian turned to me. “You’ll work as my secretary,” he stated simply.

I nodded, swallowing my nerves. Secretary does work for me, that was my job for almost five years at Redridge Pack.

The current secretary was called in, a tall, sharp-featured woman with tight lips and narrowed eyes. Tension filled the room instantly.

Her polite smile faltered when Killian mentioned I’d replace her, even with her receiving a sudden promotion elsewhere.

Her lips parted, forced polite, “I’ll train her—”

“No need,” Killian cut in coolly. “I’ll handle her training.”

The woman’s shock was instant, eyes darting between us.

I shifted uncomfortably. “I—She can show me—”

“I said I’ll handle it.” His tone brooked no argument.

He then raised his gaze briefly towards the obviously angry lady, “you can go. Vacate your office immediately.”

The former secretary’s jaw clenched as she left, irritation sharp in the air.

I turned to him, frowning. “That… wasn’t necessary. People will talk.”

“Let them,” Killian replied smoothly, already sorting through files.

The urge to bite my lip in frustration clawed at me, but there was no way I’d do that with Killian’s eyes locked so intently on me.

The morning passed in a blur of instructions, Killian barely letting me out of his sight, walking me through tasks with terrifying precision.

When lunch approached, I finally gathered the nerve to speak.

“I’ll eat at the cafeteria,” I said firmly, cutting off his unspoken offer to join him elsewhere. There's no way I would do that. “I want to blend in.”

His eyes darkened with faint amusement. “Blending in isn’t an option, Isla.”

I held his gaze, steady. “Please. I really want to know people… learn how the company works through them.”

“Isla—” His voice dipped, low and warning.

“Alpha, the Pack meeting’s in five,” Liam’s voice interrupted smoothly from the doorway, seizing whatever it's Killian wanted to say from him.

Killian relented, dismissing me with a low, “Call me if anything happens.”

Well yes, I got a new phone the previous day doing my shopping spree.

The cafeteria was buzzing with chatter when I arrived, but the moment I stepped in, the noise faltered, eyes shifting toward me, curiosity laced with quiet hostility.

The former secretary must have spread some hostile rumors.

Ignoring the stares, I grabbed a tray, picked food, determined to keep my head high.

But as I turned, food balanced in my hands, someone collided with me, hard.

The tray crashed, food splattering across both of us.

Before I could stammer an apology, a hand cracked hard across my cheek, my head whipped to the side, cheek burning.

“Are you blind?” a shrill, venom-laced voice snapped. “Or just stupid?”