Chapter Seven: Public Exposure

**Chapter Seven: Public Exposure**

By morning, the penthouse looked untouched.

That was the problem.

The broken lock had been replaced. The hallway scrubbed. The security system upgraded overnight by Kane’s former team—off the record, untraceable. No blood. No shell casings. No sign that three armed men had tried to breach one of the most secure residential towers in the city.

Clean.

Too clean.

Sebastian stood at the window in a pressed charcoal suit, cufflinks fastened with steady hands that only trembled once. The stabilizer had carried him through the night, but the heat hadn’t vanished. It lingered beneath his skin like a low electrical current—contained, watchful.

Kane watched from across the room.

He’d slept in the armchair.

Not because he had to.

Because distance felt like a lie after what had happened.

“You’re not going to cancel,” Kane said.

Sebastian didn’t turn. “The board emergency session? If I cancel, they’ll smell weakness.”

“They already do.”

A pause.

“That wasn’t helpful,” Sebastian said evenly.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

Sebastian finally looked at him. There was something different in his expression this morning. Not softness. Not fragility.

Awareness.

“You’re coming with me,” Sebastian said.

“I was always coming.”

“No,” Sebastian replied. “Into the meeting.”

Kane’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not standard protocol.”

“Neither is my suppressor failing during a hostile breach,” Sebastian said. “They’ll try to argue I’m unstable. I want you there.”

Kane crossed the room slowly. Stopped a deliberate foot away. Close—but not touching.

“You want them to see me?” Kane asked.

“I want them to understand I’m protected.”

Kane studied him.

“Protection implies vulnerability,” Kane said.

Sebastian’s mouth curved faintly. “So does hiding.”

—

The boardroom of Voss Industries occupied the top floor of the corporate tower—glass walls, steel accents, power distilled into architecture. The long table was already full when Sebastian entered.

Conversation died instantly.

They smelled it.

Not full heat. Not claim. But something lingering in Sebastian’s scent—an undercurrent of recent flare and alpha presence.

Kane felt the shift in the room the way a predator feels air pressure change before a storm.

Predatory interest.

Calculation.

“Mr. Voss,” said Chairman Harland, voice smooth as polished marble. “We were concerned.”

Sebastian took his seat at the head of the table. Kane remained standing behind him, slightly to the right. Close enough to intervene. Far enough to appear formal.

“There was an attempted security breach at my residence,” Sebastian said calmly. “The situation was handled.”

“Handled by external contractors,” Harland replied pointedly, eyes flicking to Kane. “We were not informed.”

“You are now,” Sebastian said.

A murmur moved through the room.

One of the board members—a beta with too-bright eyes—leaned forward. “There are rumors,” she said carefully, “regarding your condition last night.”

Kane’s shoulders went still.

Sebastian did not blink. “Be specific.”

“A destabilization,” she continued. “Linked to your designation.”

There it was.

Omega.

Used like a flaw.

Sebastian folded his hands on the table. “My designation has never impaired my leadership.”

“Not until now,” Harland said. “A failed suppressor during an active threat suggests unpredictability.”

Kane felt it—the subtle spike in Sebastian’s pulse. The tightening breath.

Heat responding to challenge.

Kane stepped forward without thinking.

Just one step.

The board noticed.

Harland’s gaze sharpened. “Mr. Hale,” he said coolly. “Are you under the impression this is a security matter?”

Kane met his eyes. “Everything involving Mr. Voss is a security matter.”

Silence fell hard.

Sebastian’s scent shifted—stabilizing, grounding against Kane’s presence.

Harland noticed that too.

“You seem very… integrated,” Harland observed.

“That would be my job,” Kane replied.

Harland leaned back. “Your job is temporary.”

Kane didn’t answer.

Because that wasn’t certain anymore.

—

The meeting dragged for two hours.

They questioned Sebastian’s judgment. His decision-making. His stress tolerance. They used neutral language for discriminatory intent.

Through it all, Kane remained silent.

But he did not move.

When Sebastian’s breathing grew uneven, Kane shifted subtly—just enough for Sebastian’s shoulder to brush his thigh.

Grounding.

No one else would notice.

Sebastian did.

And his voice steadied instantly.

Finally, Harland folded his hands.

“We will require medical documentation,” he said. “And a review period. During that time, certain executive authorities may be temporarily redistributed.”

Stripped.

Slowly. Politely.

Sebastian stood.

The room tensed.

“You will not,” Sebastian said quietly, “redistribute my authority because my biology inconveniences you.”

His scent flared.

Kane reacted instinctively—hand hovering near Sebastian’s shoulder, not touching, but present.

“You forget,” Sebastian continued, eyes sharp, voice cutting, “that this company exists because I took risks none of you would.”

Harland smiled thinly. “And perhaps you’ve reached the point where risk is no longer an asset.”

The insult hung heavy.

Sebastian went still.

Too still.

Kane felt the shift before he saw it—heat rising again, sharper this time, triggered by anger instead of fear.

Dangerous.

Kane made a decision.

He placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Firm. Visible.

Not intimate.

Protective.

The entire board inhaled sharply.

Alpha scent flooded the space—not overwhelming, but unmistakable.

A statement.

Sebastian’s breath steadied immediately.

Harland’s expression hardened. “Is this a demonstration?”

Kane’s voice was calm. Controlled. Deadly.

“It’s reassurance.”

“For whom?” Harland asked.

Kane met his gaze.

“For anyone considering another breach.”

Silence dropped like a blade.

Then—

Harland’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at it.

Froze.

His composure cracked for half a second before he masked it.

Sebastian noticed.

“So,” Sebastian said softly. “What happened?”

Harland looked up slowly.

“There’s been another incident,” he said.

Kane’s hand tightened fractionally on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Where?” Kane asked.

Harland’s eyes flicked to him—resentful.

“At the company data center.”

Sebastian’s pulse spiked.

Kane felt it under his palm.

“Internal sabotage,” Harland finished. “And the breach code… was authorized under your executive clearance.”

The room erupted.

Sebastian went cold.

“I didn’t authorize anything,” he said.

Kane’s mind moved fast.

Last night.

The message.

We know he’s an omega.

This wasn’t about money.

This was about dismantling him.

Framing him.

Kane leaned down slightly, voice low enough for only Sebastian to hear.

“They’re not just attacking your body,” he said. “They’re attacking your legitimacy.”

Sebastian swallowed. “Then we hit back.”

Kane’s eyes lifted—calculating.

Because now this wasn’t just protection.

This was war.

And someone inside this building had just made it personal.