Mated by Contract to the Alpha Chapter 100

Rebecca's POV

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of the luxurious safe house, my fingertips pressed against the cool glass. The reflection staring back at me was a stranger—pale face, tight lips, eyes filled with uncertainty. Behind me, the massive bed and elegant furniture seemed to emphasize how out of place I felt. This wasn't my world. Maybe it never could be.

The night outside was quiet, too quiet. Nothing like the constant hum of the city I was used to. Here, in this secluded mountain retreat, every sound felt amplified—including Dominic's voice as it carried from the study down the hall.

"I don't care what his father's connections are," he was saying, voice cold and controlled in a way that made my skin prickle. "If he doesn't stand down, handle it. Permanently."

My fingers clutched the edge of the curtain. Handle it. Permanently. The clinical detachment in those words made my stomach clench. I knew what they meant. I wasn't naive. And yet hearing Dominic speak about ending someone's life with the same tone he might use to order coffee was jarring in ways I couldn't articulate.

I heard footsteps approaching and quickly moved away from the window, grabbing a book from the nightstand and pretending to be engrossed. Dominic appeared in the doorway so silently it was startling. I jumped slightly, the teacup on the side table wobbling as my hand knocked against it.

"Sorry," he said, stepping into the room. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," I lied, steadying the cup. "I just... didn't hear you."

He crossed the room and handed me a fresh cup of tea. When I took it, I was careful to avoid touching his fingers. An unconscious gesture that I immediately regretted when I saw the flicker in his eyes. He'd noticed.

"You seem tired," he said, reaching out to check my forehead for fever.

I couldn't help it—I leaned back, away from his touch. The movement was subtle but unmistakable. His hand froze in midair, then slowly withdrew.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing a smile that felt brittle.

The awkward moment was interrupted by my phone ringing. An unknown number flashed on the screen. Hesitantly, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Rebecca." The voice sent ice through my veins. Dylan Hurst. "I hope you're enjoying your little hideaway."

My body went rigid. Dominic was instantly alert, moving to stand behind me, his eyes sharp as a predator's.

"What do you want, Dylan?" I asked, my voice steadier.

"It's simple," he said, his tone almost conversational. "I want you to meet me at Oak Park tomorrow at noon. Come alone."

Dominic leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Ask why."

"Why would I do that?" I repeated, drawing strength from Dominic's presence even as his proximity made my heart race.

Dylan's laugh was cold. "Because if I smell any Alpha on you—if I so much as catch a whiff of Sterling—your friend Sofia will have an unfortunate accident at her magazine office. I have people watching her, you know."

Dominic's eyes flashed dangerously blue. He nodded at me, mouthing words I followed.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?" I asked, fingers gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white.

"You don't," Dylan replied. "But you know for certain what happens if you don't show up. Noon, Oak Park. And come alone, Rebecca. I'll know if you don't."

The call ended. I slowly lowered the phone, my hand trembling.

Dominic immediately began making calls, his voice calm and methodical as he arranged security details and what sounded like some kind of trap. The clinical way he discussed positioning "assets" and "neutralizing threats" made me stare at his hands—those same hands that had touched me so gently, now orchestrating violence with practiced ease.

When he asked what I thought about placing surveillance around Oak Park, I could only nod, my throat suddenly tight. The man standing before me felt like a stranger—powerful, dangerous, calculating in ways I couldn't comprehend.

The weight of it all suddenly crashed down on me. I mumbled an excuse and hurried to the bathroom, barely making it before violent nausea overtook me. I locked the door, turned the faucet on full blast to cover the sound, and emptied my stomach.

"Rebecca?" Dominic's voice came through the door, concerned. "Are you alright?"

I slumped against the cool tile floor, my body trembling. "I'm fine," I called back, my voice unconvincing even to my own ears. "Just give me a minute."

"Let me in. I can help."

"No!" The word came out sharper than I intended. "I mean... I'm okay. Just need a moment alone."

I could almost feel him hesitating on the other side of the door, torn between respecting my privacy and his instinct to protect. Finally, I heard him step back. "I'll be in the study when you're ready."

When I stood to rinse my mouth, I avoided my own reflection in the mirror. I didn't want to see the fear in my eyes.

---

Later, in the study, Dominic spread maps across his desk, his finger tracing routes. "Dylan's men will be intercepted here," he explained, pointing to a secluded stretch of road near Oak Park. "We'll have teams positioned at these three points."

I watched his face as he spoke, noticing how his eyes flickered with an eerie blue light when he discussed strategy. It was the same intense gaze that would soften when he looked at me in private moments. Now it held nothing but cold calculation.

"If necessary, they'll be dealt with on site," he continued, the words sending a chill through me.

My fingers dug into the leather armrests of my chair, knuckles turning white. I hadn't realized I was shaking until Dominic suddenly stopped talking and looked directly at me.

"You're trembling," he said, his voice softening with concern.

I stood abruptly. "It's just cold in here," I lied, rubbing my arms. "I think I need a sweater."

Before he could respond, I was already heading for the door, desperate for air that didn't feel heavy with plans of violence. I didn't make it far. Dominic caught up to me in the hallway, gently taking my arm.

"Since we arrived, you've been avoiding my eyes," he said quietly.

I stared at the polished hardwood floor, my fingers nervously twisting together. "I'm just worried about Sofia," I said, the half-truth bitter on my tongue.

Dominic was silent for a moment. "I need to leave to set things in motion," he finally said. "I won't be staying here tonight."

I nodded, still not looking at him.

"My men will take care of Dylan," he continued. "He won't be a threat to either of you after tonight."

Something in his tone made me glance up involuntarily. Take care of. Such a benign phrase for something so final. My gaze drifted to the window, my body tensing slightly before I could control the reaction.

But it was too late. Dominic had noticed. His expression shifted, understanding dawning in his eyes followed by something that looked painfully like hurt.

"You're afraid of me," he said. It wasn't a question.

I wanted to deny it, to reassure him, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was bite my lower lip and look away again.

Dominic turned his back to me, his shoulders rigid. "I thought after the marking..." his voice trailed off. "I thought you could accept all of me."

I reached out, my hand hovering near his shoulder but not quite touching. "I'm trying to understand your world," I whispered.

When he turned back to face me, his expression was carefully composed, but the warmth in his eyes had dimmed. "But you can't," he said simply.

"No, I can," I insisted, looking down at my trembling hands. "I just need more time."

Dominic stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "When you look at me, what do you see, Rebecca? A protector, or a predator?"

My silence was the cruelest answer I could have given.

---

He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. "I would never use the methods I use against my enemies on you, Rebecca," he said without turning around.

I finally moved toward him, my shaking fingers lightly touching his arm. "I know that," I said softly. "But when I see that side of you..."

Dominic looked down at my hand. "One day you'll need to accept that protecting you means I must be ruthless with those who threaten you."

I couldn't find a response, and my hand fell away from his arm.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his eyes full of complex emotions. "I'll come back," he said. "And I hope by then, you can accept all of me, not just the parts you're comfortable with."

After he left, I stood at the bedroom window, watching his car disappear down the winding road. I placed my palm against the cold glass, as if I could somehow bridge the invisible barrier between us—between his world and mine.

My other hand drifted to my stomach, cradling the secret growing inside me. "Will you inherit his strength or my weakness?" I whispered. "His ruthlessness or my hesitation?"

The mark on his neck flashed in my memory, along with the hurt in his eyes when he realized I feared him. I had wounded him with my silence more deeply than I'd intended.

By the bedside table, I noticed he had left a small silver dagger. A protection weapon. I picked it up, feeling its weight in my palm, and held it against my chest in the darkness.

"Can I live forever with a man who can both tenderly caress me and coldly order death for my enemies?" I asked the empty room.

After long moments of silence, I made my decision. "He deserves to know. This life belongs to both his world and mine."