After My Alpha Used His Voice to Silence Me

I confronted him the next morning.

I didn't plan it. I woke at dawn with Selene's cold certainty pressing against my ribs, and I knew I couldn't wait another day. I found Cassian in his office, already dressed, already working. He looked up when I entered and smiled—that warm, easy smile that used to make me feel safe.

"Annalise. You're up early."

I closed the door behind me. Buster stayed in the hallway. I'd left him there deliberately. I needed to do this alone.

"The painting," I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Brooklyn didn't create it. I did."

His smile didn't falter. "I know that."

"Then why did you let her accept the award?"

"Because you weren't ready." He stood and crossed to me, his movements unhurried. "Annalise, we talked about this. The exposure would have been too much for you. I was protecting—"

"Stop saying that." The words came out harder than I intended. "Stop saying you're protecting me when what you're really doing is protecting her."

Something flickered across his face. Not guilt. Calculation.

"Brooklyn is fragile," he said carefully. "The captivity damaged her in ways that aren't visible. If I'd exposed her lie publicly, if I'd humiliated her in front of the entire Summit—Annalise, she would have broken. She might have hurt herself. I couldn't risk that."

His eyes locked on mine. Unblinking. Steady.

"I need you to understand," he continued, his voice dropping into that tender register. "This isn't about choosing her over you. It's about managing a dangerous situation carefully. For the good of the pack. For everyone's safety."

Selene sent a wave of nausea through me so sharp I had to press my hand against the desk to stay upright.

"I want my recognition back," I said. "I want you to tell the Summit council the truth. I want Brooklyn to return the award."

Cassian's jaw tightened. "That's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because the damage is done." His voice was still gentle but something underneath it had gone hard. "Brooklyn accepted that award in front of every Alpha and Luna in the region. If I reverse it now, it makes the pack look incompetent. It makes me look incompetent. Do you understand what that would cost us?"

"Cost you," I said quietly.

His expression shifted. Not anger. Something colder.

"Annalise." He stepped closer. "I need you to let this go."

"No."

The word hung in the air between us.

Cassian's eyes narrowed. When he spoke again, his voice carried a frequency that made my bones vibrate.

"You will accept Brooklyn's authorship publicly." The Alpha tone crashed into me like a physical force. My knees buckled. I hit the floor hard, my hands catching me before my face did. "You will never speak of the painting's true origin. You will smile and congratulate Brooklyn at the next Summit gathering. You will do this because I am your Alpha and your mate, and you will obey me."

The compulsion wrapped around my throat like a fist. My mouth opened. The words came out in a whisper I couldn't control.

"Yes, Alpha."

He crouched in front of me, his hand cupping my face, tilting it up so I had to look at him. His expression was pained. Anguished. But behind it—just for a second—I saw something else.

Relief.

He wasn't protecting Brooklyn. He was protecting himself. From scandal. From scrutiny. From the possibility that anyone might question his judgment or his authority.

Whatever love I still held for him died on that floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. "I'm so sorry it had to be this way. But you'll understand eventually. I'm doing this for us."

He stood and left the office.

I stayed on the floor until the compulsion's grip loosened enough for me to breathe. Selene whispered a single word through the cold.

*Wrong.*

I pulled myself up and walked back to my room. Buster was waiting at the door. He pressed against my leg as I stumbled inside and locked the door behind us.

I sat on the floor with my back against the bed. Buster lay across my lap, his weight grounding me. I pressed my face into his fur and tried to remember how to think.

The device with the security footage was still hidden in my paint box. The email from the Summit council was still on my phone. I had evidence. I had proof.

But Cassian had just used his Alpha tone to silence me. If I tried to speak now—if I tried to expose him—my own body would betray me. The compulsion would lock my throat. I would kneel and obey.

I needed help. Real help. The kind that didn't answer to Cassian's authority.

I pulled out my phone. Scrolled through my contacts. Most of them were pack members. People who would report back to Cassian the moment I said anything.

Then I saw a name I hadn't thought about in years.

Finnegan Cruz.

We'd grown up together during diplomatic visits between Silvercrest and Shadowveil. He used to sit with me while I painted, asking questions that weren't stupid, making observations that showed he actually looked at the work. We'd lost touch after I bonded with Cassian. I hadn't heard from him since before the abduction.

I stared at his name for a long time.

Then I put the phone down. I wasn't ready. Not yet.

Buster shifted in my lap, his head turning toward the door. A low growl started in his chest.

I heard footsteps in the hallway. Light. Deliberate.

Brooklyn's voice drifted through the door, speaking to someone I couldn't see.

"She's so unstable. I'm honestly worried about that dog. What if she has an episode and he gets hurt?"

The footsteps faded.

Buster's growl deepened.

Selene stirred. Not cold this time. Something sharper. Hotter.

I pressed my hand into Buster's fur and made myself breathe.

Three days later, I woke to find Buster gone.

I sat up fast, my heart already racing. He always slept at the foot of my bed. Always. I called his name. Checked the bathroom. The studio. The hallway.

Nothing.

Panic spiked through me, sharp and immediate. My vision started tunneling. I forced myself to count. Four breaths in. Four breaths out.

I found a pack member in the dining hall and asked if they'd seen him. They shook their head. I checked the kitchen. The training grounds. The healer's clinic.

The clinic door was unlocked. I pushed it open.

The main room was empty. But on the counter, laid out with careful precision, were syringes, sedatives, and a single form with Buster's name printed at the top.

Euthanasia authorization. Signed by Maren Solís. Approved by Beta Roland Voss.

I couldn't breathe.

I ran.

Outside. Across the grounds. My legs felt unsteady but I didn't stop. I called Buster's name until my throat was raw.

I found him at the border.

He was sitting calmly beside a man crouched on one knee, letting the dog investigate him with unhurried patience. The man's hand rested lightly on Buster's head, his posture relaxed, like he had all the time in the world.

He looked up.

Finnegan Cruz.

His eyes met mine—not with surprise but with the expression of someone who had been waiting to be exactly here.

"Annalise," he said quietly. His voice was steady. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

Buster's tail wagged. He looked at me, then back at Finnegan, like he'd decided something important.

I stopped three feet away. My hands were shaking. My vision was still tunneling at the edges.

"He's safe," Finnegan said. "I intercepted the healer's order an hour ago. No one's putting him down."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Finnegan stood slowly, his movements careful, like he was approaching something fragile. Buster stayed at his side.

"I've been at the Shadowveil border for three days," he continued. "Waiting for the right moment. I think this is it."

He held out his hand.

I looked at it. At him. At Buster, whose tail hadn't stopped wagging.

The walls I'd held against everyone in the packhouse—the ones I'd built to survive Cassian's gaslighting and Brooklyn's taunts—lowered.

Just a little.

Just enough.

I took his hand.