Chapter 141: Sorry For Being Late, My Alpha...
"The mute Beta you married..."
A pause. A breath. A blade slipping between my ribs.
"...is nothing more than a cover."
A cover.
The words hang in the air like shards of broken glass—sharp, cold, impossibly foreign.
My body is failing me. Every nerve is alight with poison, every muscle weighed down by the slow crawl of whatever he’s pumped into my veins.
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
My voice comes out sharper than I expected. It cuts through the dim air of the garage, through everything in this place.
Soren’s face goes still for just a moment—blank, unreadable, like a mask that’s slipped and been hastily reset.
Then he laughs.
Not a quiet laugh. Not a mocking one. A full, unrestrained burst of amusement that echoes off the concrete walls.
He drops onto the grimy floor, clutching his stomach like I’ve just told him the funniest joke in the world. His laughter ricochets off the walls, filling every corner of the garage, pressing against my ears like something alive.
"Look at you," he says between gasps, his voice wheezing with delight. "Look at your face. So protective. So furious. You’re dying. You’re sitting here, poisoned, bleeding, barely holding on—and the first thing you do is defend him."
He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, his smile wide and awful.
"It’s almost admirable. Almost pathetic."
His laughter fades into something quieter. More intimate. More dangerous.
"But, sister-in-law," he continues, "it’s true. Every word of it. He’s wearing an innocent mask. In front of you. In front of everyone. He’s been wearing it his whole life... and no one has ever seen beneath it. Until now."
"You’re lying."
The words leave my lips like a reflex. Automatic. Unthinking.
Soren tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved, like he’s known the answer all along.
"Why would I lie to someone who’s dying?"
I try to focus. I push through the haze, through the burning fog clouding my senses. I reach for his mind, trying to slip beneath his words and find the truth—or the lie—hidden there.
But I can’t.
The pain in my skull is too sharp, too consuming. My vision keeps blurring, breaking apart like a reflection disturbed by ripples. I can’t hold onto anything—not his thoughts, not my own, not the fragile thread of certainty I’ve been clinging to.
He shifts closer, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial, as though we’re sharing secrets in the dark.
"Let me tell you the truth about your lovely husband."
The amusement drains from his face, leaving only something cold and razor-sharp behind.
"First—he’s not mute."
He lets the words hang between us, giving them time to sink in.
"And second..." His lip curls into a sneer. "That bastard is not a Beta."
The words land like blows to the chest. I feel them sink in, one after another, each one stealing a little more air from my lungs.
Not mute.
Not a Beta.
I shake my head weakly, the movement costing me more effort than it should.
"How is that possible?"
My voice is barely more than a whisper. I can hear the weakness in it, the cracks spreading through my armor.
He exhales slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if savoring the moment.
"Exactly what I thought. I was just as shocked as you when I found out."
He leans back slightly, his gaze drifting somewhere far away, pulled into old memories.
"Our mothers were different. His mother was my father’s first love. The one who got away. The one he never stopped loving." He lets out a bitter, hollow laugh. "From the day Silas was born, he never cried. Never smiled. Never spoke. So everyone assumed he was mute—broken, useless, a quiet little ghost in the corner of the house. Every test confirmed the same thing. A Beta. No pheromones. No powers. No threat."
His jaw tightens.
"I thought I had it all. No competition. No one standing in my way. I was the perfect heir." He gives a humorless laugh. "And he was just... the quiet, disabled little brother. I almost pitied him."
His fists clench at his sides, the knuckles whitening.
"But then my father died. When the will was read, he gave everything—the company, the chairman’s seat, the legacy—to him. Not me." His voice cracks with old fury. "Everything I was supposed to have. Everything I’d worked for. Everything I deserved... he handed to that mute, fragile boy."
He looks at me, his gaze hard as stone.
"And on that very day, I learned the truth. He could speak. He’d always been able to speak. And his trait wasn’t what we’d all been told." His voice drops to a whisper.
"He’s an Enigma."
The word hangs between us—foreign. Impossible.
I try to form a response, but my throat refuses to cooperate. My mind races, stumbling over itself, trying to reconcile the Silas I know—the one who blushes at my touch, who writes notes with trembling hands, who clings to me in his sleep—with the man Soren is describing.
An Enigma.
Soren’s smile returns, slow and deliberate.
"Sister-in-law..." He almost purrs the words. "Don’t you think it’s unfair? Everything I deserved was taken from me. So I started looking for his weakness. And eventually..." He leans forward, his eyes locking with mine.
"I found you."
My breath catches.
"You’re his weakness. He’s completely insane about you. I’ve watched him—watched the way he looks at you, the way he moves around you, the way he’d burn the world down if you asked him to." His voice softens, almost wistful. "So now I’m going to take you from him. I’ll make him feel exactly what I’ve felt all these years."
My eyes drift shut. My body is giving up, piece by piece. I can’t bear this anymore.
Then—
The door explodes open.
The sound is violent. Sudden. Wood splintering. Hinges screaming in protest. Footsteps echo across the concrete—measured, unhurried, carrying the quiet certainty of someone who knows exactly what he’s walking into.
I force my eyes open.
Soren’s face drains of color. His breath catches as he stares toward the entrance. His mouth opens, then closes.
"Fuck..." The curse slips from his lips. "How did he—"
He moves fast, grabbing me by the collar and jerking me upright. My body hangs limp in his grip as the knife flashes in the dim light before pressing against my throat.
"If you come any closer, I’ll kill him!"
I can barely see. My vision blurs at the edges, but I force it to focus on the figure walking toward me. Calm. Deliberate. Unhurried. As though he has all the time in the world.
I blink again.
Silas.
The two men try to attack him. They lunge forward, ready to strike.
They don’t make it.
Their knees buckle. Their bodies hit the ground as though something invisible brought them down.
Just like that.
His eyes burn gold.
And the scent... that scent... floods the room, thick and overwhelming, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight.
The same scent I smelled on myself after my rut. The same scent that led me to the forty-ninth floor. The same scent that filled the dark room where I was held.
Soren stumbles back, dragging me with him. His voice cracks.
"Didn’t you hear me? I said stay away!"
Silas doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow.
His steps are steady, his gaze fixed, his presence consuming the space between us like a rising tide.
Soren’s voice trembles now, high and thin. "Didn’t you hear me? I said stay back—I’ll kill him!"
Silas doesn’t even acknowledge the threat.
He takes another step.
Soren stumbles backward again, dragging me with him, the knife trembling against my skin.
"Stay back—"
Another step.
In one fluid motion—so fast I barely register it—Silas moves.
His hand catches Soren’s wrist and twists. The knife clatters to the ground. Soren’s grip on me loosens.
I fall forward—
Into Silas’s arms.
His arms catch me, holding me firmly against his chest. Warmth seeps through my shirt, chasing away the cold that has been spreading through my body since the poison took hold.
The last thing I see is his face—sharp, focused, beautiful and terrifying all at once.
The last thing I hear is a voice I never expected to hear.
"Sorry for being late, my Alpha."