Alpha Isaiah ✔️

FOUR

Word Count: 1665

¬Avia

I walk down the hallway toward the dining room, still trying to gather my bearings in this place.

Through research with the rebellion, we attempted to map out as much of this estate from some personal accounts from ex staff members, but it wasn't enough for me to feel comfortable walking around by myself. I woke this morning to a note on my side table, summoning to the dining room for breakfast with the Alpha. How it got in my room without me waking isn't something I want to linger on for too long.

Rubbing my eyes, I try not to think about how late I stayed up last night, talking to Malin and Kadrick, reluctant to come back here. It may be comfortable living, but seeing Isaiah's wealth, seeing how silently aware he is of all the tyranny he is inflicting elsewhere in his Pack.

The sound of soft footsteps coming up from behind me make me flinch, whirling around. It takes everything within me not to call on all my training and lash out at whoever is approaching, knowing that would reveal too much about me.

I'm shocked that I don't recognise the man standing before me.

His hair is thick, a striking flaming red - not a common trait in Passion Pack members. His eyes are pitch black, and for a moment, I see Malin and Kadrick in them, until I see he is dressed as lavishly as anyone else in this estate, although his clothing is dark, looking more like fighting leathers than anything else.

"Kenna, is it?" he asks, tilting his head to the side as he blatantly drags his gaze over my body, no shame to be seen. Tucking my hands behind my back, I dip my head, not fidgeting, not quivering under his scrutiny. Whoever he is, he isn't getting any satisfaction in my discomfort.

My tone is wary. "Yes..."

He holds his hand out to me, covered in dark leather gloves. I withhold an eye roll. Gloves are far too common in individuals not interested in finding their mates. I've seen Isaiah wear them in almost every public appearance he has made...He probably doesn't want a mate, a Luna who can challenge his views.

"Zire. Isaiah's second-in-command."

"I didn't know Alpha's needed a second-in-command," I murmur curiously, shaking his hand firmly.

An uncomfortable lump in my throat gathers. I have no idea who this man is, and whether he is being truthful about being Isaiah's second-in-command. If he is, how do I not know about him? We put in so much effort to find out as much as possible so I wouldn't be entering the estate blind, and yet Zire is a wild card I didn't expect. He must be new, or Isaiah's best kept secret.

Isaiah approaches down the hallway, motioning for us to enter the room just up the hall. "They don't."

"Isaiah is a friend who took pity on me," Zire explains as we enter the dining room. Isaiah sits at the head of the table, and I sit opposite Zire.

I've become accustomed to how Isaiah looks from all the research I've done into his public appearances, and yet everytime I see him in person, I feel extreme amounts of guilt for the way my stomach flutters. He's an Alpha, and he's unreasonably attractive, with his perfect bone structure and deep green eyes. It only makes me hate him more, trying to concentrate on how he uses his looks to get what he wants...Right?

"So he just gave you a high position for no reason?" I question, adjusting myself in the seat. Isaiah quirks a brow at Zire, the two clearly sharing an inside story I'm not privy to. The Alpha raises his hands above the table for a moment, and I realise he too is wearing black gloves. My eyes narrow.

Zire shifts his attention to me, shrugging his shoulders. "Your father gave you this position, despite your lack of expertise about this Pack."

"Zire is very skilled," Isaiah cuts in before I can respond, looking at me. "As are you, I assume."