Chapter 6
Safia felt the burn in her calves with every step up the endless staircase. The elevator was out of order, and the scent of coffee, a potent mix of dark roast and Alpha command, was on the twenty-ninth floor.
By the time she reached her destination, the line of pack members was out the door. She waited, her patience wearing thin, until she finally made it to the front.
She prepared Sion’s coffee exactly as Layla had instructed: black.
“People with black hearts always prefer black coffee,” she muttered to herself, the bitter scent of the beans a fitting metaphor for her mood as she dragged her exhausted feet and high heels back down the stairs.
When she finally returned to the office, a full twenty minutes had passed, and Sion’s scent of impatience was thick in the air.
“Why are you so late? Does making a simple coffee take twenty minutes? Or were you trying to impress some male to clear your company’s debts?” Sion’s voice cut through the air, a low growl as his hand outstretched for the cup.
Safia's lips tightened into a thin line.
“The elevator broke. I had to take the stairs. And there was a long line at the coffee machine.”
“You are no longer the Princess of the Moon Pack that people will part for you like the Red Sea to bring your turn above all. Here you are nobody, and I am not going to introduce you to anyone as my Luna,” he sneered, taking a sip.
His face twisted in disgust. He spat the liquid back into the cup and then threw the whole thing into the dustbin.
“What is this? I have never tasted such bitter coffee in my life. Don't you know how to make a simple cup of coffee?”
Safia wanted to smash his face with her hands. She was frustrated and annoyed by his mood swings.
Is he some teenager in periods?
“Firstly, I don't want you to announce to all that I am your Luna. You are only my temporary husband. I hate your smell and loathe your presence. Secondly, I wrote down Layla's instructions and made it exactly the way she said.”
Within a blink he was before her in the avatar of a beast, hissing with canines showing out. His wolf was growling with anger.
“Whether I am your temporary or a permanent husband is not something you will determine. It's my choice. And I will use you like my slave, keep you like my pimp as long as I want. Coming to your excellent coffee according to Layla’s instructions, is that why it's so perfect?” he said maliciously, pointing to the liquid now in the dustbin.
“Make another soon because I can't function without my morning coffee.”
He turned back to his computer, already typing and not giving her a chance to speak.
Safia stood frozen, her legs screaming for rest. She wanted to ask for a break, but the words died in her throat. She knew the heartless monster before her would never agree.
“Why are you standing there like a statue? Get to work.”
He didn't even look up, feigning ignorance of her misery.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, his lips stretched into a wide, vainglorious smile.
He's a rogue.
The thought echoed in Safia's mind. He married her for revenge and wanted to make her life miserable. He couldn't stand to see her happy, not even at work, which was why he had brought her to his office to torture her.
The whole day was a repeat of the morning. Sion made her run around the office on various errands, forcing her to use the stairs for every single one.
By the time she got home, her legs were swollen, and every step was a fresh agony.
As she collapsed onto the bed wondering how she would survive in his office and save her pack, her body slowly began to experience changes. Her wolf was slowly taking over.
Is this what her dad said?
She would develop slow but continuous changes in her body after getting married to an Alpha.
Tonight, for a change, Safia was glad to welcome the new form of hers. She needed to heal fast from the savage she endured since the day.
A New Day, A New Strategy
Safia chose flats over her usual pencil heels. She wasn't taking any chances with the devil she unfortunately called her husband.
At 5:30 a.m., dressed in a pink blouse and black trousers, her hair in a tight bun, she sat in the dining hall, sipping her coffee. The maid hadn't arrived yet, so she prepared a simple breakfast of fried eggs and toast.
After waiting for half an hour with no sign of Sion, she decided to head to the office before he could accuse her of being late again.
Outside, a fleet of Sion’s cars was parked by the lobby. Drivers in pristine white uniforms were waiting. One of them stepped forward to take her bag, but Safia waved him off.
“Thank you, but I've already booked an Uber,” she said, pointing to the taxi waiting a few feet away.
She refused to accept any of the benefits of being Sion Canes’s wife. Their marriage was a contract, nothing more.
When she arrived at the Silver Pack head office, the building was eerily quiet, the air absent of the usual mix of scents that signified a bustling pack.
“Luna, you're here early,” the security guard, a gentle older wolf, said, clearly surprised. “The pack doesn't arrive until nine.”
Safia's heart sank. She realized it was all a part of his game. While he was home sleeping soundly, she was expected to be at the office by six.
She forced a smile. “I have a heavy workload and wanted to get a head start before the Alpha arrives.”
The guard returned her friendly smile and let her through.
Back at the house, Freya the maid told Sion that Safia had already left for work. A sadistic grin spread across his face, his scent of cruel satisfaction filling the room.
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a crisp black suit, Sion settled into his leather chair and rang for his personal assistant.
But instead of Layla, Safia rushed in, her mind now filled with the determined edge that was pushed up to high limits.
“Why are you here? I don't want to start my day looking at your ugly face. Where is Layla?” he snapped.
That comment was the last straw.
“The feeling is mutual. I don't want to see your mucky face either. You told me to be here by six because we start work early. But I've since learned that everyone else starts at nine. Why do you make me come in so early when you loathe the sight of me?”
“This is the special advantage you have over others,” he said with a cruel, sardonically sweet smile. “Everyone else comes at nine, but you'll be here at six because you're my favorite employee.”
Safia's rage was a hot, bitter taste in her mouth, her inner self snarling in frustration. She'd gladly murder him if she could get away with it.
“Here is your coffee,” she said, her voice tight. “It's perfect, just according to your taste. No sugar, two teaspoons of freshly ground coffee beans, and half a cup of water.”
Sion took a slow, deliberate sip.
“Hmm, good. You learned how to make coffee.”
For the first time, Sion had said something positive. Safia felt a rush of pride, a fleeting sense of victory. But the feeling vanished faster than it came.
As Sion reached for his keyboard, a piece of paper slipped from beneath a stack of files and fluttered to the floor.
Before he could stop her, Safia’s hand shot out, her instincts taking over as she picked it up.
It wasn’t a work document.
It was a photograph.
A photograph of a woman with long, dark hair and an unmistakable, devastatingly familiar smile.
A photograph of her mother.
The truth of his revenge, the reason for his hatred, was suddenly, sickeningly clear.
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