The Scorned Luna-Chapter 92: Was it real

By the next morning, Sofia was exhausted and full of regret. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her body felt heavy. When she finally reached the factory gates, her head was spinning. She had spent nearly thirty minutes wandering the massive industrial complex, trying to remember the turns she had taken with Alaric the day before.

​By the time she reached the management wing, her watch read 9:15 AM.

​"Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," a sharp voice snapped.

​Sofia looked up to see Bianca standing by the breakroom, her arms crossed and a nasty smirk on her face. A few other employees paused to watch.

​"I’m sorry, I got lost trying to find the entrance," Sofia said, trying to keep her voice steady.

​"Oh, please," Bianca stepped forward, her eyes flashing with jealousy. "Don’t give us that. Just because you warmed the Alpha’s bed doesn’t mean you can come in whenever you want. This is a place of work, not your personal playground. It’s past 9:00 AM, Sofia. Some of us actually have jobs."

​Sofia felt a hot blush of shame creep up her neck. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Helen stepped out from a nearby office.

​"That’s enough, Bianca! Get back to your station before I report you for creating a hostile environment," Helen commanded. She walked over to Sofia and gently took her arm, leading her toward her desk.

​"I’m so sorry, Helen," Sofia whispered once they were out of earshot. "I really did get lost. I don’t have a car yet, and the bus drop-off is so far from this wing."

​Helen squeezed her hand kindly. "It’s okay, dear. I understand. This place is a maze. Once you get a car, it will be much easier to navigate the perimeter."

​"I hope so," Sofia sighed, sinking into her chair.

​She tried to focus on the production schedules, but her ears were straining for one specific sound. About twenty minutes later, the heavy glass doors at the end of the hall swung open.

​Alaric walked in.

​He looked impeccable in a dark charcoal suit, but his face was a mask of cold stone. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed straight ahead. Sofia’s heart hammered against her ribs. As he approached her desk, she stood up quickly, her hands trembling.

​"Good morning, Alpha Alaric," she said softly, her voice pleading for even a glance.

​Alaric didn’t stop. He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t even acknowledge that she had spoken. He walked right past her desk, the scent of his expensive cologne trailing behind him—the same scent that was still on her skin from the night before.

​The click of his office door closing felt like a physical blow to her chest.

​Sofia sat back down, her heart sinking into her stomach. She wanted to run in there, throw her arms around him, and beg for forgiveness. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t a weapon, that she truly wanted him. But as she looked at the closed door, she realized she had broken his trust in the worst way possible.

​Be professional, she told herself, biting her lip to keep from crying again.

​Inside the office, Alaric felt miserable. He stood by the large window, staring out at the open-plan floor. His eyes were fixed on Sofia. Because of the one-way glass, he could watch her without her ever knowing. He saw the way her shoulders slumped, the way she kept biting her lip, and the sadness in her eyes. It made his heart sink.

​His wolf stirred within him, restless and pacing. You should talk to her, the wolf growled. She belongs with us. Alaric realized then that his wolf truly liked Sofia. The animal didn’t care about what she did.

​He sighed heavily and walked back to his desk, forcing himself to look at the mountain of paperwork. He tried to focus, but her face kept appearing on the pages.

​A few minutes later, a soft, hesitant knock came at the door.

​"Come in," Alaric said, his voice flat and professional. He didn’t lift his head, pretending to be deeply buried in a report.

​The door creaked open, and the scent of her—now mixed with the faint, lingering traces of his own mark—filled the room. Sofia walked in, clutching a folder to her chest.

​"Alpha," she said softly. "This needs your signature before the noon deadline."

​Hearing her voice so close, Alaric’s hand froze over his pen. He couldn’t help it. He lifted his head, and his green eyes met her tired, red-rimmed ones. The cold mask he had worn in the hallway cracked just a little bit.

​Sofia didn’t move. She stood by his desk, her breath hitching as she waited for him to say something—anything—to bridge the silence.

​Alaric reached for the folder, his fingers brushing hers as he took it. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through both of them, a painful reminder of the passion they had shared the night before.

​"Is that all, Sofia?" he asked. His voice was no longer cold, but it was weary, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

​Sofia swallowed hard, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "Alaric... I didn’t come here just for a signature. I know you’re hurt. I know what I did was terrible. But please, don’t look at me like a stranger. It’s killing me."

​Alaric looked at the document, then back at her. He set the pen down and leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "You used the most intimate moment of my life to torture my nephew, Sofia. How am I supposed to know which parts of yesterday were real and which parts were just... an act?"

​"None of it was an act, Alaric," Sofia whispered, her voice cracking as a tear finally spilled over. "I wanted you. I’ve wanted you since the moment we met. I loved last night... I loved being with you."

​She tried to take a step forward, wanting to reach across the desk and touch his hand, to feel the warmth of his touch.

​"Stop," Alaric said. The word wasn’t a shout, but it was firm enough to freeze her in her tracks.

​He didn’t look at her. Instead, he pulled the folder toward him and scribbled his signature on the lines with quick, jagged motions. He closed the folder with a sharp thud and slid it toward the edge of the desk.

​"You can leave, Sofia," he said, his voice dropping back into that flat, professional tone that felt like a knife to her heart.

​"Alaric, please—"

​"I have a lot of work to do," he interrupted, finally looking up. His eyes were hard again, guarded by a wall of pride and pain. "And so do you. You were late this morning. Let’s not make a habit of it."

​Sofia felt the blood drain from her face. The reminder of her lateness, combined with his dismissal, made her feel small—like the "employee" he had apologized for calling her the day before.

​She reached out with trembling fingers and picked up the folder. "Yes, Alpha," she whispered.

​She turned and walked out of the office, her legs feeling like lead. As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it for a split second, closing her eyes.

​Across the room, she could feel Bianca’s smug eyes on her, watching her every move. Sofia took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and walked back to her desk. She had to be strong, but inside, her wolf, who had grown to like Alaric, was howling in grief, feeling the distance between them grow.