The Alpha’s Secret Obsession Now novel Chapter 44

Sarah’s POV

The kind of hotel that doesn’t ask questions smells exactly how you’d expect—stale cigarette smoke embedded in curtains that haven’t been replaced since the building changed hands, industrial cleaner failing to mask the musk of a thousand anonymous encounters.

I came here to discuss business, to demand updates and timelines and the cold efficiency of a hunt conducted properly.

Thomas had other plans.

He took me to bed the moment I walked through the door, his hands already reaching for the buttons of my blouse before I finished closing the lock behind me.

I didn’t resist because resistance would have required caring about something other than the way his mouth moved against my throat, and Thomas has always been the best lover I’ve ever had.

The body wants what the body wants.

Thomas sprawls across the tangled sheets like he believes he has earned his rest, one arm thrown above his head, the other reaching toward the space I vacated ten minutes ago.

Late twenties, built like the warrior profession requires — broad shoulders, narrow waist, amber eyes that hold warmth.

Thomas has wanted me since we were teenagers. I have always known it. This makes him very easy to manage.

I finish fastening the last button of my blouse and smooth the fabric over my hips, checking my reflection in the spotted mirror above the dresser. My hair needs attention, but nothing that will raise questions when I return to the packhouse.

“You’re already dressed.” Thomas’s voice carries the rough edge of interrupted sleep. “I was hoping for another round before you disappeared back to your Luna responsibilities.”

“My responsibilities are exactly why I’m here, Thomas.” I turn to face him, letting my expression cool into something businesslike. “We need to discuss progress, not indulge in distractions.”

“That’s harsh.” He pushes himself upright against the headboard, the sheet pooling at his waist. “Considering what we just spent three hours doing, I’d say distraction was exactly what you came here for.”

“I came here for information.” I move to the chair beside the window and lower myself into it with grace. “The distraction was simply a pleasant way to pass time while I waited for you to become coherent enough to provide it. Now tell me where we stand with finding the girl.”

Thomas’s expression shifts, the satisfied lover dissolving into something more guarded.

“I’ve been searching every contact I have in the human city, Sarah. This Ricky woman—it’s like she vanished into thin air. Either she’s dead, or she’s better at disappearing than anyone I’ve ever tracked.”

The frustration builds behind my ribs, a pressure I force myself to contain. “That’s not good enough.”

“I’m aware it’s not good enough.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the pants crumpled on the floor.

“But the woman clearly has resources. My best guess is she’s a former intelligence of some kind—maybe organized crime. People don’t learn to vanish this completely from working in cafés.”

“I don’t care about her background.” My voice comes out sharp, and I watch Thomas flinch. “I care about finding Morgan before she has time to use what she’s carrying against me.”

“The photograph.” Thomas’s jaw tightens as he pulls on his shirt. “You’ve mentioned it before, but you never explained what it shows.”

The words gather at the back of my throat, and for one breath I taste the unfamiliar bitterness of vulnerability. Sharing this means sharing weakness.

But weakness shared with the right weapon can become strength, and Thomas has always been my most devoted blade.

“It shows us together.” I meet his eyes without flinching.

“Two weeks after my wedding, clear enough to be used as evidence of an affair that would destroy everything I’m building. As long as Morgan is alive, that photograph exists as a weapon pointed directly at my throat. Do you understand what that means for us, Thomas?”

The manipulation lands exactly where I aim it.

The contingency unfolds in my mind with the clarity of a plan I’ve been refining for weeks, though I’m naming it completely for the first time.

A Luna carrying a potential heir cannot be displaced. Cannot be divorced. Cannot be formally humiliated during a live pregnancy claim.

The pack would rally around me, protective instincts overriding whatever suspicions they might harbor about my conduct.

If Thomas fails, I will announce that I am pregnant with Paul’s child.

The announcement will draw all attention to me, all scrutiny, all the careful observation that comes with a Luna’s pregnancy.

I would be untouchable.

I turn back to Thomas one final time, crossing the distance between us to press my mouth against his with a ferocity that makes him groan.

The kiss carries everything I cannot say aloud—gratitude, manipulation, the particular cruelty of using someone who loves you without reservation.

When I pull away, his eyes are glazed with want.

“Find her quickly,” I murmur against his lips. “For both our sakes.”

Then I open the door and step into the corridor, leaving Thomas alone with his promises and his obsession and the weight of what I’ve asked him to become.

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