Chapter 128- The Quiet Strike

Lexy

The day had arrived.

Light spilled into the glass-paneled conference room as I stepped inside, CJ beside me, every inch the sovereign pair we were. My mate. My king. His quiet strength was something I had come to lean on more than I ever let show—not even now, as my shoulders bore the weight of both worry and leadership.

The room buzzed with low murmurs. Alphas and pack dignitaries settled into their places around the long obsidian table. The morning sun caught the polished surface, throwing reflections that danced like firelight, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. These weren’t friends. Not truly. Allies, perhaps. Rivals, certainly. Every nod was political, every silence a strategy.

CJ leaned closer, his voice a gentle hum beneath the tension.

“You good?”

I didn’t glance at him. My gaze was already sweeping the room. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. With the way CJ looked at me when I lifted my face, I knew he knew it wasn’t the full truth.

My notes sat folded in my hand, unread. I knew them by heart. What I didn’t know—what ate at me constantly—was where Tarria had gone. Seven days of silence. Seven days without word from her second-in-command. No contact. No sign. It wasn’t like her.

I hadn’t said a word to the council about it. Couldn’t. Power only stayed power when it looked unshakable.

By the time Adrian strolled in—last, as expected—the room had mostly settled. He made a show of his entrance, always subtly reminding everyone that timing, like information, was something he controlled. His suit was immaculate. His expression? A mask of polite detachment.

He offered me a brief nod before taking his seat across from mine. I didn’t return it.

The first day had been posturing. The second day, tentative progress—patrol schedules, resource agreements, limited cross-border operations. It was something, if not yet enough. But I hadn’t missed the pattern: Adrian was holding back. Waiting. And whatever it was he’d come to push for, I knew he’d save it for the last moment.

The final day arrived, and the mood changed. I kept wondering what Adrian was going to ask for. What could he be asking for?

Discussions started earlier. Quieter. The council moved with the weight of near-resolution. CJ kept pace with me effortlessly, contributing where needed, watching when not. They were a seamless front, and I knew it unsettled some of the older Alphas. That was the point.

By midafternoon, the table had returned to a subdued quiet. The last agenda items were wrapping. Terms were close. Close enough to taste.

Adrian stood.

No one interrupted. He didn’t speak right away—just placed his palms on the table’s edge and looked around the room, as if weighing what each face was worth.

“We’ve made progress,” he began, voice calm and composed. “More than I expected, if I’m honest. And for that, I commend all of you.”

Some nodded. Others didn’t bother.

“I believe this alliance is within our grasp. One final commitment, and we can move forward in strength and unity.”

My fingers stilled against the edge of the table. I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Adrian looked straight at me, his tone never changing. “My final condition is this: I want Tarria.” The words dropped like stones.

Silence followed—total, immediate. Someone at the far end of the table shifted slightly in their chair, but no one dared speak.

CJ’s jaw tensed beside me. I felt the change in his energy immediately, but I didn’t look at him. My eyes remained on Adrian. The name sat in the air between them. Deliberate. Loaded.

My expression didn’t flicker. Not even slightly.

Adrian, of course, continued. “Tarria would be transferred to my pack, in a formal capacity. A gesture of trust. Balance. She represents exactly the kind of leader this alliance needs.”

Still, I said nothing. I didn’t blink. My posture remained perfect. Inside, the words echoed like a slap.

Adrian didn’t know Tarria. Not personally. He met her at last week’s meeting. That much I was sure of. This wasn’t about tactical necessity. This was calculated. A test. A strike that was aimed not at my position—but at my composure.

He wanted to see if I would crack.

I inhaled slowly, controlled. I kept my eyes on him, level and silent.

CJ shifted slightly, protective instinct rising, but didn’t speak either. He wouldn’t—not unless she gave the signal.

Across the table, a few council members exchanged brief glances. No one broke the silence. You could feel the tension he left on everyone.

Adrian remained standing, completely still. Unflinching. He was pushing his aura to intimidate more.

I leaned back slightly in my chair, folding my hands together on the table’s surface. And I waited.

The seconds felt like hours. I could sense the eyes of the council members flicking between Adrian and me, measuring the weight of the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. My mind was a storm, but my face was a mask.

Finally, I allowed the corner of my mouth to curl into the faintest smile. “Adrian,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade, “trust is indeed a cornerstone of any strong alliance. Tarria's transfer, however, will require careful deliberation. Such a gesture should not be rushed.”

Adrian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a hint of frustration breaking through his otherwise controlled facade. He had not expected resistance, not in this form. But he maintained his stance, unwavering, as if to assert his dominance through sheer willpower.

CJ relaxed imperceptibly, sensing the shift in the room. The members' glances turned more thoughtful, assessing the evolving dynamics. The tension remained, but it now bore the flavor of strategic consideration rather than outright confrontation.

But I knew better. This wasn’t a resolution. It was the eye of the storm.

Adrian had planted a seed—one that would grow in whispers, in doubt. Tarria’s name was now a question mark, a pawn on the board.

I felt the weight of every gaze drifting toward her. Waiting. Watching. I offered none of what they wanted. No denial. No agreement. Just silence.

Adrian slowly sat, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He thought he’d drawn blood.

Let him.

Because I wasn’t done. Behind my stillness, my mind turned like a blade, cold and ready. I would find Tarria. I would bring her home.

And when I did, Adrian would learn exactly how dangerous quiet fury could be.