Chapter 27 Fire Under Glass
Sable’s POV
The boardroom was too bright. Too polished. Too suffocating.
Sunlight poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off gleaming chrome and polished oak until everything felt blinding. The chairs were perfectly aligned, the water glasses untouched, the scent of money and power soaked into every seam. It was supposed to impress me. Instead, it felt like a trap closing.
The moment I stepped inside, I told myself I could handle it. I’d been through worse. I’d survived exams that nearly broke me, shifts at the diner that pushed me past exhaustion, nights alone when the mate bond tore at me like claws. I had fought to become this version of myself—a woman with her own career, her own goals, her own choices.
But nothing compared to this.
Kier.
Five years hadn’t dulled him. If anything, he was more dangerous now—sharp suit, broader shoulders, a presence that filled the room as if he’d been born to sit at the head of the table. He radiated control, power, and something else that made my wolf writhe beneath my skin.
Mate.
The word pulsed through me with every breath of his scent. Cedar smoke. Storm winds. My chest ached with it, my body screaming to move closer, to bridge the distance, to belong to him again.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Because Liora was at his side.
She sat too close, angled toward him, her scent curling into the air like a taunt. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her hand grazing the edge of his sleeve as if it were her right.
I knew her. I’d grown up with her. She’d been at my side during training, during hunts, during the nights we’d whispered secrets beneath the stars. My best friend. My sister-in-spirit.
And now she was here, in my place.
Jealousy struck like lightning, sharp and hot. My wolf surged, snarling, pacing, urging me to leap across the glass table and tear her apart piece by piece. Ours. Not hers.
I dug my nails into my palm until the sting grounded me. I couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not now.
I’d fought too hard for this. For my career. For my independence. For this chance to prove I wasn’t just the Beta’s daughter or the Alpha’s almost-mate.
I was more.
Donovan was still speaking, voice smooth and confident, but his words washed over me like static. My attention flicked between Kier and Liora, between the bond and the betrayal. Every flicker of Liora’s movement was a blade, every slow blink of Kier’s eyes a reminder of how far I’d come and how close I still was to falling.
When Donovan motioned for me to take the floor, I forced my spine straight and rose. My heart hammered, but my voice was steady.
“Our campaign doesn’t just market a product,” I said, stepping to the screen. “It builds a legacy. Ironclad’s strength isn’t in what it sells—it’s in what it represents. Unyielding loyalty. Enduring power. The promise of belonging to something greater than yourself.”
The words weren’t just strategy. They were truth. They were everything I had lived, everything I had run from, everything I still carried in my bones. I had taken those ideals, reshaped them, and built something of my own.
I risked a glance at Kier. His eyes were locked on me, burning with a heat that made my knees threaten to buckle. He wasn’t listening to the slides. He was listening to me.
The mate bond surged, thick and raw. My wolf howled inside me, clawing at my chest, demanding I cross the room, demanding I claim him.
But I stayed still.
Because if I gave in now, I’d lose everything I’d built.
When I finished, silence held the room for a heartbeat too long. Then Donovan jumped in, smoothing over transitions, guiding us back into polished professionalism. The moment passed, but the fire under my skin didn’t fade.
I sat down, careful to keep my gaze forward, careful not to watch as Liora leaned into Kier again, murmuring something against his ear. But I saw it anyway.
And I hated that it hurt.
Because if she wanted him—if she had him—wasn’t that exactly what I’d chosen?
I had run. I had left him.
And yet, the sight of her so close made something inside me break all over again.
My fingers tightened around my pen until it cracked, the sound hidden under the shuffle of papers. My wolf’s claws dug at the edges of my control, pacing and snarling, wanting to rip the mask off and show the room what she really was.
Not a polished strategist. Not a polite professional. A wolf.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep her on her leash.
Donovan’s voice buzzed in my ear as he thanked the Ironclad board for their time. People shifted, murmuring polite farewells, chairs scraping. All around me the scene blurred. My focus stayed locked on Kier. On the way his eyes flicked toward me and away, like he was fighting his own battle just as hard.
I stood when everyone else did, smoothing my skirt, forcing my face into neutrality. My wolf crouched inside me, coiled and trembling, but I gave her no outlet. Not here. Not now.
By the time I reached the door, the mask was back in place. My heart still raced, my hands still trembled, but no one would see.
I’d fought too hard to get here. Too hard to stand on my own feet.
I would not break—not even for him.