THIRTY NINE

Sky POV

"You sure you wanna go alone?" Zeke asked as I followed Neo's lapdog.

His expression was carved from stone, but his eyes—those mismatched eyes I'd always loved more than I should—betrayed him. They were stormy. Uneasy. His jaw ticked with restraint, his hand flexing like he was stopping himself from reaching out.

"I'll be fine," I said.

He didn't reply; he just stared at me, breathing hard through his nose like he hated every second of this. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled movements—but I could feel the tension rolling off him like heat. Protective. Frustrated. Scared.

Scared of Neo.

When the hell did that happen?

Zeke used to snarl at thunder and bite down on fear. But now? He looked like every other wolf in this place—cautious. Controlled. Tame.

"Unlike everyone else, he doesn't scare me." I offered him a wink and a smirk. And that was the truth. Neo might've been Alpha, but he bled red like the rest of us. He was a bully with a title, not a god. I hadn't even seen his wolf in years. For all we knew, he'd lost his edge. Grown soft.

And if he hadn't? Well… I wasn't the same girl he broke before.

I turned on my heel and followed the errand mutt he sent to fetch me like a good little sister—obedient, exactly how he liked me. When we reached Neo's office, the lapdog—Tyson, maybe? Trevor? They all blurred together—paused awkwardly in front of the massive oak door and turned to me with the energy of a man who had already wet himself in fear.

"If you could… uh… maybe just wait here a minute? "I'll, uh, let him know you're here." He whispered the last part like Neo was some mythological beast who could hear sins through walls.

"You afraid he'll hear your thoughts, too?" I blinked. His lips twitched, and he paled. "Thanks, but I'm good," I muttered, brushing past him.

I didn't knock. Neo loved when people knocked. Thought it reinforced respect or fear or whatever power-trip bullshit he was living on that day.

But me?

I gave exactly zero shits what he wanted.

The heavy door creaked open as I shoved it with my shoulder like I'd been summoned for tea, not a showdown. Strolling in with zero urgency and even less respect.

"Sky," he said, not turning from the bookcase where he was thumbing through a thick, leather-bound novel like he had time for literature.

"Jackass," I replied, breezing in and making a direct line for his desk—his throne. With a smirk, I flopped into his chair, leaned back like I owned the place, and tossed my muddy trainers up on his desk with a satisfying thud.

The tick in his jaw gave him away.

"Make yourself at home," he muttered, finally closing the book and turning to face me.

"Thanks. I will." I grinned wide.

His eye twitched again. God, I loved being me.

"So…" I dragged the word out as I reached across the desk and picked up a gold pen, spinning it between my fingers like a knife. "You wanted me?"

He walked slowly toward the window, stopping just beside the desk—beside me. His presence always came with a drop in temperature. I used to find it chilling. Now it was just predictable.

"I did." His tone was measured. Too calm. That meant trouble. I leaned forward, twirling in the chair just enough to annoy him.

"Well here I am. Ready to be scolded, lectured, possibly locked up—what's today's flavour?" He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he placed the book carefully on the edge of the windowsill and crossed his arms.

"How are you finding your return?"

"It's cute you think I'm staying." I raised a brow.

A pause.

"And yesterday?" he asked casually, eyes flicking down to the bruises on my arms that peeked out from beneath my rolled sleeves. "You're healing… slowly."

"Funny, that," I said, voice flat. "Trauma tends to do that. Also, maybe don't have your men beat the crap out of your only living sibling."

"Maybe you should stop playing with the big boys, then." Neo smirked, and I hated him for how effortless it looked.

My blood simmered.

"You're better suited in the kitchens, Sky. Or planning packed meals. Perhaps embroidery? You were never cut out for combat." I dropped my feet from the desk with a loud thud, my jaw tight but my expression calm.

"No problem, bro." I rose slowly, letting the sarcasm seep into every syllable. "Understood." He moved to say something else, but I was already walking, my hand flicking a lazy wave in the air.

"Sky—" he called after me.

"Not done talking," he snapped, but I ignored him completely. I closed the door behind me with an unnecessary amount of grace. I wasn't done either—but I needed to pick my moment.

And that moment? It needed seasoning.

I stormed up to my room, snatching a tablet of laxatives from my drawer and sliding it into the pocket of my shorts. It wasn't even subtle, and I didn't care. Neo always liked a healthy dose of humility with his power.

Phone in hand, I headed to the kitchen and kept my head low. I made sure no one followed me—eyes and ears had a habit of growing around Neo—and I wasn't in the mood for company.

Pulling up a recipe from one of my old notes, I set about cooking him breakfast. Eggs. Hash browns. Toast. Crispy bacon, just how he liked it. I even garnished it with a goddamn sprig of parsley. I wasn't proud of it. But I was committed to the bit.

Once plated, I covered the tray with a cloth and carried it back down the hall. Every footstep echoed like a war drum.

My plan was juvenile. Petty. Possibly poisonous. Perfect.

I didn't knock the second time, either.

"What's this?" Neo looked up from his desk, still seated now, eyes narrowing.

"A gesture," I stated sweetly, placing the tray in front of him. "You suggested I belonged in the kitchen. I listened."

"I'm not hungry." His lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"Doesn't matter." I shrugged.

"What's in it?" His eyes narrowed.

"Just food," I answered. "But I'm glad you asked. Here's the deal." He sat back slightly, arms crossing. "You eat it, digest it, and approve of my cooking skills for the day, and I'll stay out of the training grounds. No complaints. No rebellion. I'll be the docile little sister you always wanted."

Neo's jaw ticked.

"And if I don't?" he asked.

"Then I'll keep training." I leaned across the desk, voice soft. "And I'll bring every bruise, every scar, every mark from your warriors right to your front door." His nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

Fork in hand, he hesitated—just briefly—then took a bite of the bacon. His gaze stayed locked with mine the entire time.

His chew was slow. Calculated. He was trying to rattle me. But I didn't blink.

"Why did you go to your room?" he asked finally, casually. I debated telling him I had just laced his food with enough laxatives to sort a gorilla out.

"To get my phone. I needed the recipe." I tilted my head as Neo's eyes sharpened.

"So you're watching me", I added cheerfully. "Again."

He didn't deny it.

'Dick!' I mussed to myself but kept my face neutral.

"Enjoy your breakfast, Alpha." I smiled and stood, already turning toward the door.

"Sky," he called just as I pulled the door open. I looked over my shoulder. "A deal's a deal."

I didn't answer. Just let my eyes drop to the now half-empty plate in front of him. Then I shut the door behind me, my grin growing with every step.