Chapter 4
Kane
The Tower is an ostentatious skyscraper of glass and steel; Alpha’s ego stamped into architecture.
The sixty-four floor high-rise looms above the city as a constant reminder of the scale of his power, functioning as the headquarters for the Chicago pack.
Most of it is luxury apartments reserved for those with rank, but a handful of floors are dedicated to things that keep the pack running– offices, medical facilities, and community recreational spaces.
I spend most of my days here in my office on the thirty-second floor, hunched over a desk doling out assignments to pack enforcers through our secured server.
The Commander rank used to involve more boots on the ground and blood on my knuckles, but as technology has evolved, so have our operations.
Now, it’s mostly screens and reports and digital oversight.
All the same bureaucratic bullshit, just a lot less stimulating.
My brother claims it’s turning me into a recluse. He’s not entirely wrong, though he’d benefit from taking a page out of my book. Spending time behind a desk might actually keep him out of trouble for once.
Most wolves detest solitude. They thrive on social interaction, physical closeness, and the constant hum of pack life. They crave touch and chatter like oxygen.
I’ve never been wired that way. If anything, the older I get, the more I prefer my own company. Silence is predictable. Routine is clean and orderly. People aren’t.
I've successfully evaded any unnecessary chatter all day, and I'm two seconds from heading out when a new notification flashes across my monitor, summoning me to report to Alpha’s office.
I stare at it.
Consider ignoring it.
But dealing with Gage’s irritation later will be more of a hassle than talking to him now, so I shove back from my desk with a low groan and head that way, stalking down the hall.
His office door is, as always, unlocked and unguarded. It’s a territorial flex; a dare for someone to walk in and challenge him. No one’s ever been dumb enough to take him up on it.
He’s behind his desk when I enter, shoulders tight and head bent over a tablet.
The glow from the screen cuts hard angles into his face, carving the shadows beneath his eyes even deeper than usual.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and from the annoyed furrow of his brow, whatever’s on that tablet is to blame.
“You wanted to see me?” I murmur, kicking the door shut behind me.
He doesn’t even glance up. Just flicks two fingers in my direction– come in, sit, wait– while his eyes stay locked on whatever corporate misery he’s scrolling through.
I drop into the chair across from him, slouching back and stretching my long legs out in front of me like I’ve got all the time in the damn world.
I don’t.
I’m running on fumes, but I’ve been summoned, so here I am.
He keeps scrolling. His jaw ticks with each swipe, the muscle twitching like an electrical pulse. Finally, he exhales through his nose, drags a hand down his face, and drops the tablet onto his desk with a thud.
“This Pairing is a headache,” he mutters.
“That implies there’s ever been one that wasn’t,” I snort.
He lifts his eyes and shoots me a look that’s a familiar blend of fuck you and fair point. “This one’s worse.”
I arch a brow, not asking, just giving him the floor if he wants it. Unfortunately, part of my job is listening to him bitch about pack logistics. He’s always been the talker between us.
Gage scrubs a hand across the back of his neck– one of his few genuine tells.
He only does that when he’s actually annoyed, not just projecting the usual Alpha posturing crap.
“The applications are imbalanced,” he murmurs, nudging the tablet toward me.
“Too many males applied. Female applications hit a record low.”
“Then push some males to next quarter,” I say blandly, picking up the tablet and glancing down at the screen. “Seems simple.”
“This has been a trend all year,” he growls, stabbing his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Every round, fewer females apply. If it’s this bad now, it’ll be worse next quarter. We can’t afford to keep pushing off the problem.”
I nod slowly, my brain already cataloguing the statistics to come up with a solution.
The Pairing is a reward system– a perk that keeps pack members motivated to train, serve, and excel.
Only ranked males are eligible to be paired with a mate from the applicant pool, while any female can apply to be paired, regardless of status.
Most of them are drawn in by the security and elevated status that comes with being mated to someone who holds rank.
It’s a delicate ecosystem; an engineered balance.
And an effective one… until the numbers stop adding up.
If there aren’t enough females to go around, fewer males will bother pushing for rank. That means fewer soldiers, more slack, less discipline. Restlessness curdling into resentment, bruised egos turning into challenges. Destabilization of the hierarchy.
Yeah, I see the problem.
“Well, you got three freebies with the rebel raid,” I mutter, recalling the sentences he handed down at the bunker a couple weeks back.
All the females who were given the choice between entering the Pairing or joining the Reapers chose the Pairing.
Not exactly shocking. Being stuck with a stranger for a mate is still better than running suicide missions with the scourges of society.
“Not enough,” he grunts. “Any leads on the rebels reconvening in the next month?”
“No.”
He heaves a sigh. “That’s a shame. Could’ve turned this around.”
I don’t react, even as my wolf prickles underneath my skin. My expression remains neutral as I refocus on the tablet. The program interface is clean, each applicant profile containing images and basic stats. “Just dole out by rank,” I murmur, swiping.
“If only it were that simple,” he grumbles. “Too many low and mid-rank applicants. They all expect to be rewarded for their service.”
I swipe again, a familiar face stopping me cold.
Violet Slayter.
She’s not smiling in the photo, but she isn’t scowling, either. It’s that deliberate, unreadable middle ground– jaw set, chin tilted slightly, gaze steady and unyielding. Guarded and vaguely defiant, like she’s daring whoever’s looking to underestimate her so she can enjoy proving them wrong.
Her eyes are what hold me there. They’re too blue. Too bright. Too damn alive.
Something electric slides down my spine, my wolf shifting beneath my skin– alert, curious, and interested in a way that pisses me off immediately.
I must be staring too long, because Gage leans forward to glance at the screen.
“Ah,” he remarks. “That one’s giving me the biggest headache of all.”
I flick my gaze up to meet his, schooling my expression into one of bored neutrality.
“Almost every male has requested her,” he continues. “Even with her record. I mean, just look at her.”
I shouldn’t, but my eyes drop back to the tablet anyway.
She really is something. Not merely pretty, but gorgeous in a way that’s hard to ignore, eyes wild with the kind of challenge most wolves find irresistible. It’s no surprise she’s in high demand.
“So just pick whoever has the highest rank,” I say flatly as I hand the tablet back. “Nobody can argue with that.”
“Sure,” he scoffs, “except there are three with the exact same rank who want her. I pick one, I piss off the other two and look like I’m playing favorites.
” He scrubs a hand over his face, frustration bleeding through in a way he usually conceals.
Then, offhandedly, he adds, “You could save me the trouble and take her for yourself.”
A sharp laugh escapes me, devoid of anything resembling humor. “No thanks.”
“Why not?” he pushes. “You’d do well to take on a mate. You’re getting up there in years…”
“Speak for yourself, old man,” I snort.
He ignores the jab. “She’s attractive. Young. Good for bearing pups.”
“Too young,” I counter, failing to mask the sharp edge of irritation in my tone.
He waves a dismissive hand like that detail is insignificant, which somehow pisses me off even more.
“She’s twenty-three, not eighteen.” He glances back at the tablet, swiping with a contemplative hum.
“Someone else, then? Having someone of your rank in the Pairing could motivate more females to apply…”
Shit.
I see it, clear as day. The change in his posture, the faint spark in his eye. The moment something clicks in his mind.
He just found the missing chess piece, and he wants to move it.
I shift my weight in the chair and cross an ankle over my opposite knee, adopting a posture of lazy indifference even as my wolf bristles.
“I’m not interested in a mate,” I say flatly.
He finally looks up, giving me a long, searching look. We’ve danced around this subject before, but lately, his tone’s been different. More insistent, like he’s trying to solve a problem he hasn’t yet made me aware of.
“Why not?” he presses. “Don’t you want to get laid?”
“I get laid plenty.”
“Then don’t you want to settle down, have some pups?”
“No,” I deadpan.
Honestly, I can’t think of anything worse than bringing pups into this world. This pack, its politics, his control… not a fucking chance.
“What, you waiting for your fated mate?” Gage snorts, half-mocking, half-curious.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You know those are practically myth.”
I just shrug again, letting him think whatever he wants. Better than giving him the truth.
He huffs out a breath. “You know I could just order you to take a mate.”
The words land like a slap, a growl curling in my chest before I can stop it. It’s a primal warning, quiet but unmistakable.
His gaze immediately sharpens, something colder slipping into his expression, authoritative and pure Alpha.
My wolf surges forward, ready to meet the challenge, but I force him back down. Not quickly enough, and not without effort– my hands curl into fists atop my thighs, knuckles crackling with restraint.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how restless your wolf’s been recently,” he says, watching my every move with those assessing grey eyes. “Taking on a mate would ground you both.”
I go still.
Because he’s right. And I hate that he’s right.
My wolf has been off lately. More volatile, more reactive. More unwilling to back down, even from bullshit that shouldn’t trigger him. Orders irritate the beast. Boundaries make him bristle. He’s been pacing under my skin like something’s coming, threatening to upend the order of things.
Even so, I keep my face blank. “My wolf is fine.”
Alpha stares me down, unblinking. “You’re slipping, Kane. Maybe you don’t feel it, but the rest of us do.”
My jaw tightens. “What exactly do you think I’m slipping from?”
“Control.”
I stiffen, that one word hitting harder than anything else he’s said. An insult and a diagnosis rolled into one.
“I’m not a threat to the pack,” I say evenly.
“You’re becoming one,” he counters. Not angry, not even accusatory, just stating a damn fact. “Your wolf needs grounding. Something to guard instead of fight.” His eyes flick down to the tablet. “A mate would give you that.”
I grit my teeth. “Not interested,” I repeat.
He sighs and drops the tablet onto his desk with a dull thud, leaning back in his chair. The exhaustion on his face is real, but so is the strategy glinting behind it.
“This pack needs stability, Kane. Strong leadership and order. I’m drowning in bullshit, and a high-profile Pairing like yours would turn things around. It’d boost morale. And female applications next quarter? They’d spike.”
I stare at him.
He stares right back.
This isn’t about my wolf, or my future, or my supposed need for ‘grounding’. It’s about convenience. Control. Alpha using me to clean up a mess he can’t solve on his own. I’m just a piece on his damn board, and he’s calling checkmate.
He slides the tablet back toward me with two fingers. “Pick someone.”
“No,” I grit out, not making any move to take it.
“Kane.”
“No.”
Alpha command snaps through the air like a live wire, but instead of bowing to it, my wolf rears up in challenge. The air between us tightens instantly, our beasts circling a line neither of us wants to cross. I can feel it, and I know he can too.
Gage’s voice drops lower, rough and honest in a way he rarely lets himself be.
“I want you at my side,” he says, eyes locked on mine.
“But if your wolf keeps slipping the way he is… I won’t have a choice.
” He pauses for a beat to let that settle– a threat wrapped in concern, overridden by authority.
“I can’t keep an unstable enforcer in your position. ”
And there it is.
The bigger picture settles over me like a lead weight. Why I stay in this role and grit my teeth through bureaucracy and bullshit day after day; why I swallow my irritation rather than walking away like I’ve wanted to for years.
Keeping this position is vital. It’s not a matter of pride, but one of purpose. Losing my rank isn’t an option.
“Fine,” I bite out, pushing up from the chair so abruptly it scrapes across the floor. “Assign whoever you want.”
I don’t trust myself to wait for a response. I storm out of his office, letting the door slam in my wake. Most people wouldn’t get away with it, but Gage and I have known each other long enough to recognize when distance is necessary.
The hallway feels colder than when I walked in.
I head straight for the elevator, jabbing the call button harder than necessary.
It arrives with a soft chime, and I step inside.
The mirrored walls reflect me in harsh fragments, my jaw clenched, shoulders tight, hard expression carved from stone.
My wolf prowls restlessly under my skin the whole way down, unsettled in a way that makes my teeth ache.
Alpha thinks he’s doing what’s best for the pack, but he doesn’t even realize the leash he’s tugging on with this flex of authority. It’s one I’ve kept hidden, buried deep.
The last damn thing I want is a mate. Someone in my space, messing with my routine, and poking around in my personal life. There’s a reason I keep it all locked down; a reason no one gets past my walls.
I don’t want attachments.
I don’t want questions.
I don’t want to be beholden to anyone but myself.
Whoever Gage decides to chain me to better have low expectations, because we’ll be bonded in name only. If I can help it, I’ll avoid her completely– let her stay in my Tower apartment while I retreat to my lake cabin every night.
This Pairing won’t be a blessing, it’ll be a sentence.
For both of us.