Chapter 15 Blind

"I did submit my resignation."

Eira stood in the wind by the valet stand, air pulling at a strand of her hair. Her eyes stayed level.

"HR says one-month notice is standard. And the executive floor wasn’t my call. Take it up with Alpha Killian."

Alpha Sebastian searched her face for cracks. He found none.

"Why would he pull you upstairs to play secretary?"

"No idea. Maybe he liked my typing speed."

"Don’t get smart with me."

"Then don’t ask questions you can’t handle the answers to."

Alpha Sebastian didn’t know much about Killian Sterling.

Sterling Pack sat too far above his ceiling. A man could grind his whole life and never touch the edge of Sterling’s coat.

What he did know: cold, sharp-tongued, kept women at arm’s length. Ruthless in business. Family got no free passes if the numbers didn’t add up. Other investors got decent returns. Alpha Killian got windfalls. At twenty-two, one high-stakes play had put Sterling Group knee-deep in emerging tech, and within two years it had become Hale Group’s biggest competitor.

Someone had once put it this way: Alpha Sebastian was the hardest-working kid in the room. Alpha Killian was born sitting at the table.

Effort was just the cover charge to meet genius.

So yes, Alpha Sebastian could work himself to the bone, and tonight was still the first time he’d ever shared a table with the man.

"Eira, he’s twenty-eight and playing chess three moves ahead of everyone in that room. If he pulled you into his office, it’s not charity." His hands clamped down on her shoulders. "Don’t tell yourself he sees talent. You don’t have anything he’d want. He’s probably just after—"

He stopped himself.

"Your face."

Eira looked at him for a long second.

Then she laughed. Short. Cold.

"Wow. Four years of running your house, managing your Pack’s books, and cleaning up your sister’s messes — and the official appraisal comes back as my face."

She peeled his hands off her shoulders, one at a time. "And hands off."

Alpha Sebastian’s jaw worked. "Alpha Killian’s a businessman. Businessmen chase profit. All his assistants are young and good-looking. Looks are a social tool." He locked eyes with her, dead serious. "Quit. As soon as possible."

"So your theory is I’m decoration." Eira crossed her arms. "Funny. That’s the one job I already had. At your house."

"Quit, Eira. Hand in the letter, pack your desk, go home. Done."

"Home." Eira tilted her head. "You mean the place where your acquaintance lives now? Hard pass."

His jaw went tight, fury simmering right under the skin. He couldn’t have explained why seeing Eira next to Alpha Killian had thrown him this badly.

So he filed it under the simplest label he had: she’s my wife. Mine. She doesn’t get to stand next to another man.

"You’re my—"

"Your what?" Eira cut in, voice flat. "Say it. Out loud. You had a whole dinner table twenty minutes ago, and the best you managed was we’re acquainted. So whatever word you’re reaching for now, out here by the valet stand — save it."

"This isn’t a debate. You’re quitting. That’s final—"

"That’s not your call."

Alpha Killian’s voice cut through the air.

He stood at the side door behind them, one shoulder against the frame. No telling how long he’d been there.

"It’s mine," he said. Cool. Final.

His gaze slid over Alpha Sebastian like he was deciding whether the name was worth remembering.

"And if you two are just acquainted, Hale, I’m not sure why you’re this invested in her career."

A pause. Then, with surgical precision:

"That seems like her husband’s job. You know — the one who can’t buy his wife a working phone. The one living off her paycheck."

Alpha Sebastian’s neck went red.

He had nothing. And there was no version of tonight where he admitted he was that husband.

Alpha Killian’s eyes moved to Eira.

"Long bathroom break, Miss Crawford." Flat. Businesslike. "Let’s go."

"Sorry. The line was terrible." She fell into step behind him without a backward glance.

The second she put distance between herself and Alpha Sebastian, her shoulders dropped half an inch.

Alpha Killian caught it.

Something complicated crossed his silver eyes.

"So that’s why you volunteered tonight."

"What?" She glanced up, thrown for a second. Then it clicked. He’d figured out the marriage was done. She shrugged. "Pretty much. Dinner with clients beats dinner theater at home."

"How long?"

No point hiding it now.

"Four years." A beat. "Four years and seventy-three days. But who’s counting."

Alpha Killian’s brow lifted. "You, apparently."

"Someone in that marriage had to keep records. He couldn’t even keep track of which woman lived in which room."

"And in four years, he’s never once claimed you in public."

"Not once." Eira looked straight ahead, chin up. "His loss. I’m delightful."

--

Back inside, Eira had lost whatever appetite she’d had. The scallops were still on the table. She didn’t touch them.

Alpha Sebastian came back minutes later, hair damp at the temples, smile bolted back into place. He worked the room, glass in hand, toasting his way down the table.

When he got to Alpha Killian, he hesitated.

Alpha Killian didn’t lift his glass.

Everyone clocked it.

In their world, refusing a toast in front of witnesses was a public execution.

[Is he doing this over her?

Are they sleeping together?]

The second the thought landed, Alpha Sebastian’s face went dark. He drained his own glass in one go.

The dinner wrapped shortly after. Alpha Killian left first. Eira stood and followed.

Behind her, Alpha Sebastian slumped in his chair, half-drunk, phone already at his ear.

"Serena."

One last needle. Smaller than it used to be.

[Fine,] Eira thought. [ Let’s speed this up.]

A drunk phone call wasn’t going to get an address across anyway.

She texted Serena Winthrop — the number was still on the welcome card Serena had pinned to the kitchen board, like she owned the place already.

[Sebastian’s drunk at the Hawthorne. Private room 3. Come get your prize.]

Send. Delete thread.

Outside, the night air cut through Eira’s coat. Alpha Killian’s car waited at the curb. The window lowered an inch.

"You’re off the clock, Miss Crawford."

Then the window went up, and the car pulled away.

Three blocks later, Alpha Killian told the driver to circle back and park on a nearby side street.

Eira had attended the dinner on Sterling business. Making sure she had a ride home was basic risk management. At least, that was what he told himself.

From there, he still had a clear view of the Hawthorne’s entrance.

Eira tried to flag down a cab.

It drove right past her.

Alpha Killian’s jaw tightened, but he stayed put. She would try again.

A while later, a black sedan pulled up. Serena hurried inside and came back with Alpha Sebastian leaning heavily against her. She helped him into the back seat and climbed in beside him.

The rear window lowered halfway as the sedan pulled from the curb.

Alpha Sebastian’s head fell against Serena’s shoulder.

Eira stood close enough to hear him mumble into her hair.

"...Eira."

Serena went rigid.

Alpha Killian could not hear the word from where he sat. He only saw Alpha Sebastian folded against a woman who was not his wife, while Eira remained alone on the sidewalk.

That was enough.

The sedan disappeared into traffic.

Alpha Killian looked back at Eira as she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and started walking.

"Bring the car around," he told the driver.

The Maybach pulled up behind her.

The window slid down. Alpha Killian sat inside, his face calm enough to suggest he had not spent the last ten minutes watching from half a block away.

"Get in."