"Tell Sebastian this is just the beginning." Those were the last words they said before leaving.

Their voices echoed in my mind as I lay on the cold ground, barely able to move. Every part of my body hurt, my ribs felt like they were on fire, my arms were bruised, and the cuts on my face stung. But none of that compared to the ache deep in my chest, the heaviness that wouldn’t go away.

It took everything I had to get up. Each step felt like I was dragging a hundred pounds as I made my way to the pack physician. By the time I reached the clinic, I collapsed into a chair.

The room smelled strange, like antiseptic mixed with herbs. It made my stomach turn, but I didn’t have the strength to care.

The physician, an older man with a soft gaze, didn’t ask any questions. He just sighed, grabbed his tools, and started cleaning my wounds. His touch was gentle, but even that made me flinch.

I tried to block everything out, to focus on the ceiling or the dull ache in my arms. But then he said something that shattered me completely.

“You were about a month pregnant,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost like he didn’t want me to hear. “The trauma… it was too much. We couldn’t save the baby.”

At first, I couldn’t process his words. Pregnant? Baby? I wasn’t even aware. My mind spun, and I gripped the edge of the chair to keep myself from falling apart.

“I… didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The physician didn’t say anything else. He finished bandaging me up, gave my shoulder a comforting pat, and left the room.

I sat there in silence, staring at the floor. Time passed, but I didn’t move. The pain in my body didn’t matter anymore. It was the emptiness inside me that hurt the most.

When I finally made it home, the house felt lifeless. The silence wrapped around me, heavy and oppressive. I dropped onto the couch, leaving the lights off. The darkness suited my mood.

The sound of the door opening startled me. Sebastian walked in, his presence commanding as always. He carried a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and a sleek black case in the other. His suit jacket hung over his arm, and his tie was slightly undone.

He didn’t say anything to me. He tossed the case onto the table and loosened his tie. His scent filled the room, sweat and blood, sharp and overwhelming, a constant reminder of the ruthless life he led as an Alpha.

Meanwhile, I sat on the couch, barely upright, feeling more like a shadow than a person. My side ached, the stitches pulling with every tiny movement. The bandages around my belly were fresh, but they couldn’t dull the pain in my heart.

Sebastian didn’t even notice me at first. He poured himself a drink, the clink of the bottle against the glass cutting through the silence.

“Did you eat?” he asked, his tone cold and distant, like he was talking to an unruly child.

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers traced the edge of the couch cushion, trying to steady myself. He stood there, waiting, his face unreadable, his eyes cold.

Finally, I sighed and pulled up my shirt just enough to show him the neat stitches running across my side. Words weren’t needed. The silence said it all.

"The doctor said I need to avoid certain foods," I said flatly, my voice as empty as I felt.

Sebastian’s eyes flickered for a second, his gaze landing on the bandage. He didn’t linger, though. Instead, his brows furrowed slightly, as if the sight of it annoyed him more than anything else.

"Then make something that suits you," he said dismissively, like that solved everything.

I nodded, not because I agreed but because it was easier than arguing. I grabbed my phone and began scrolling for a delivery app. My thumb hovered over the screen, not really focusing on the options. My stomach growled, but I couldn’t tell if it was hunger or just nausea.

Sebastian didn’t care. He knocked back half his drink in one go, his movements smooth, controlled. He didn’t ask what had happened earlier. He didn’t ask about the pain, the message, the loss. It was as if he had walked into a different house, one where nothing was wrong.

I ordered the first thing I saw on the app without bothering to check if it matched the doctor’s restrictions. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

The silence dragged on. Sebastian poured himself another drink, his back turned to me. The weight of the day settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like he didn’t either.

But then he stopped. His glass, mid-air, hung as he turned slightly to glance at me. Something shifted in his expression, just enough to notice.

"Is your next check-up in three days?" he asked, his voice quieter this time. "Do you need someone to go with you?"

That was the last question I expected him to ask. His tone was casual, almost dismissive. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to disarm me or provoke me.

“No need,” I replied, keeping my voice as flat as possible.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, finishing his drink in one slow, deliberate sip. He set the glass down with a soft clink, and the silence stretched between us like an invisible wall.

A few minutes later, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and I caught it—a smile. Small, fleeting, but enough to sting. It wasn’t for me, of course. It was never for me.

Later that night, as I passed the guest room, I heard his voice. Low, soft, completely unlike the Sebastian I knew. I paused, curiosity overpowering my pride, and stood just outside the door.

“Don’t worry, Vashti,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. “This one’s on me. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

I froze. That tone, that gentleness—I’d never been on the receiving end of it. Not once.

The Sebastian I knew only offered sarcasm and distance. Smiles came with mockery, and words were just commands. Nothing more.

I tried to push it aside when I got to bed, but his words wouldn’t leave me. The way he said her name—Vashti—lingered like an open wound.

By morning, I told myself I didn’t care anymore. It didn’t matter. At least, that’s what I kept repeating in my head.

The apartment was unusually quiet when I woke up. I made a sandwich, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at the table. One plate, one cup. No effort for anyone but me.

The usual tension in the air was gone, or maybe I’d just stopped noticing it. Either way, I didn’t care enough to analyze it.

Sebastian walked in moments later, his presence filling the room like a shadow. He always carried himself with a quiet authority, the kind that made you feel like he owned every space he stepped into.

He paused, his eyes landing on the table. His gaze lingered on the empty spot where his breakfast used to be. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

Before he could, Erickson walked in. He is Sebastian right hand man, a strong warrior who is loyal to both his Alpha and his pack. His polished black shoes clicked against the marble floor, his tailored black suit flawless. He stopped a few feet from Sebastian, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Boss,” Erickson began, his tone steady but heavy. “We’ve confirmed it was Conri Scofield’s men who attacked Ms. Quinn yesterday.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening like stone.

Conri Scofield.

Sebastian turned to me then. The annoyance in his eyes vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous, controlled rage.

“Conri,” he repeated, the word low and sharp, sending a chill through me.

He straightened, his voice steady but laced with authority. “I want a full investigation. Every man who was there, every detail. I want to know why he targeted her.”

“Yes, boss,” Erickson said, his tone grim.

“And bring me Conri’s second-in-command by tonight,” Sebastian continued, his words colder than ice. “Alive.”

Erickson nodded again and left without another word.

Sebastian’s piercing gaze turned to me, freezing me in place. “You knew they were Conri’s men?” he asked, his voice sharp and accusing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I swallowed hard but forced my voice to stay steady. “I didn’t think it mattered. You seemed… preoccupied with more important things.”

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. His towering frame loomed over me, making the air feel heavier. “Who knows if they might follow you to get to someone, someone like Vashti?”

The words hit me like a blow. My stomach twisted, but I held my ground. Not for a second was he worried about me. It was always about Vashti.

When I didn’t respond, he glanced at the table. His voice was calm but carried a sharpness that sliced through the air.

“Where’s my food?”

I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression neutral. “I thought you didn’t like black coffee.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

We both knew the truth. He hated black coffee. But I’d always made him drink it, thinking it might help him endure the stress of being an Alpha, ruthless, feared, and unyielding, both inside and outside the Silver Claw Pack.

But this morning, I didn’t care.

The tension between us thickened, like a storm waiting to break. His expression darkened, but I refused to flinch.

I ignored his glare, lifted my cup, and downed the coffee in one swift gulp. The bitterness burned my throat, but I welcomed the sting. It matched the ache I refused to acknowledge.

I placed my plate in the sink with a deliberate clatter, grabbed my bag, and turned to leave.

“Let me take you to the office,” Sebastian said. His voice was softer, but the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

I stood towards the door, not caring if he gave me the permission to go out or not.

From behind, I heard him offering me to work, but I dismissed it as my imagination. To be honest, Sebastian never bothered to share a car with me.

We’d been together for Six years and used to go side by side. Undoubtedly, our relationship had grown cold. It seemed like it was just another transaction in politics.

The Office

By the time I arrived at the Silver Claw Headquarters , the whispers had already begun.

The headquarters was where a lot of activities were being carried out for the sake of the pack income. Any worker here knows very well that he or she needs to work,

Every cubicle was guarded by Sebastian men in disguise. Their sharp eyes were constantly scanning for threats... Why because, Sebastian was a man who many people hated and so they could attack him or business.

Minutes later, Sebastian arrived. He stepped out of the sleek Red luxury car with his secretary, Vashti. Her soft laughter echoed through the lobby. It grabbed the attention of every pair of eyes.

Vashti. The thorn in my side.

The whispers grew louder as Sebastian walked with her into the building. Everyone there knew we were a couple, but Vashti presence had begun to blur the lines.

Sebastian was involved with her in ways he never was with me. He used to give her rides, share meals, and even grant her access to his restricted areas.

Ignoring them, I made my way to the public area, where the communal printer was located.

I was just copying documents and pretended not to notice the glances my colleagues threw my way. They wanted a show, a spectacle—a sign that I was cracking under the weight of Vashti's growing influence.

But I refused to give them the satisfaction.

The whispers grew bolder as I walked past two of the subordinates.

“Ms. Quinn is too cold,” one of them muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “Men like women who are delicate, like Vashti.”

By cold they meant that I never gave them gossip. Neither did I give them a show of my relationship with Sebastian.

The moment they noticed me, both of them fell silent, but the damage was done. I kept walking, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Eventually, I returned to my cabin.

On my desk, my resignation letter and a black velvet pouch were placed on the table. I put the pouch into my pocket, along with the letter, and made my way to Derick office.

When I reached outside Sebastian cabin, I didn’t bother knocking. I pushed the door open and startled the two of them.

Vashti was sitting on the edge of Sebastian desk. Her doe-eyed expression turned to fear as she saw me.

“Vespera, this isn’t—” Vashti began, her voice trembling.

“Out,” I snapped, cutting her off.

Sebastian eyes narrowed. There was a warning flashing across his face. “Vespera, watch yourself.”

Ignoring him, I reached into my pocket and tossed the black pouch onto the desk. It landed with a soft thud, spilling its contents—a pair of black stockings.

“Next time you sneak into my house,” I said coldly, “don’t leave your things behind.”

Vashti face turned crimson as she picked up those stockings.“Th-thank you, Ms. Quinn. I’ll be more careful.”

Before I could say anything, she ran from the cabin. Her heels clicked frantically against the floor.

The door closed behind her, leaving Sebastian and me alone. The tension in the room was suffocating. He stood there silently. His towering frame cast a shadow over me.

“What point are you trying to prove?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Well, I am not trying to prove any point to you, Sebastian. I came here to give you my resignation letter," I said to him, placing the resignation letter on the desk and adding, "I want you to sign this immediately."