Isabella's fingers hovered above the cold, flexible screen, trembling slightly. Beneath her fingertips lay the vast and intricate interface of the deep space probe simulation software, star orbits interweaving like threads of fate. That insane thought grew wildly in her mind—using this "toy" she was allowed to manipulate, to send her response to that unknown ghost hidden within the fluctuations of the deep space network.
The risks were enormous. This could very well be a carefully laid trap. Alexander Kane was waiting for his restless "canary" to fly straight into the net. If she performed any abnormal operation, any action that clearly conveyed a signal, the consequences could be unimaginable.
Yet the rhythmically blinking indicator lights were like the only firefly in the dark, tempting her like a moth to a flame. Since being trapped here, this was the first glimmer she had seen that was not controlled by him—an external spark.
She had to take the gamble.
She took a deep breath, forcing her wildly beating heart to calm. She couldn't enter obvious coordinates or numbers—too easy for the monitoring algorithms to detect. She needed a subtler approach, one that looked like the clumsy fumbling of a beginner.
She began to act. Her fingers moved the virtual probe model seemingly awkwardly, pushing it off its optimal trajectory to collide with an insignificant asteroid fragment. Then, in a flustered attempt to correct it, she caused the probe to enter a non-optimal, more energy-consuming orbit. She deliberately typed slightly off-standard numbers into certain parameter fields, producing minor, inconspicuous deviations that would nonetheless be recorded by the backend logs.
Her movements had to appear careless, yet her temples glistened with fine sweat from extreme tension. Her teal eyes stayed fixed on the screen, balancing the need to appear nonchalant with the necessity that these "errors" formed a prearranged, repeatable pattern with specific intervals—a simple code she and her lab colleagues had used during college games, meaning "received, but cannot respond directly."
It was like dancing blindfolded on the edge of a cliff—every step could be fatal.
Fully absorbed in this dangerous and meticulous operation, she did not notice the main door of the suite opening silently.
Alexander Kane entered.
He seemed to have just escaped a long, high-pressure meeting, still carrying the chill of the conference room and a lingering, overwhelming Alpha pheromone of dominance. His brows were furrowed with obvious fatigue and agitation, his gray-blue eyes even deeper and colder than usual, like a stormy sea under a pre-storm sky. He did not go to his study as usual, but walked straight to the living room, yanking off his restrictive tie with a rough impatience.
His gaze immediately locked onto Isabella curled up on the sofa, absorbed in the "toy" he had given her. A fraction of the usual cold in his eyes seemed to thaw, though the agitation beneath it did not dissipate.
Hearing the footsteps, Isabella flinched violently, almost reflexively slamming the screen dark. Her heart leapt into her throat. Panic overtook her as she lifted her head and met Kane's unfathomable eyes, now swirling with unreadable emotion.
"What's got you so absorbed?" His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a barely perceptible edge of exhaustion… and some tense undercurrent.
"I… it's nothing… just looking around…" Isabella's voice trembled slightly from guilt and fright, and she instinctively tried to tuck the tablet behind her, a clumsy attempt that only made her look more suspicious.
Kane's gaze lingered on her pale face and the teal eyes full of panic and tension for a few seconds before sweeping over the tablet she was trying to hide. He did not immediately question her, but the oppressive low-pressure aura surrounding him intensified. He took a few steps to the sofa and sat beside her, sinking deeply into the soft leather, releasing a powerful mix of cold cedar and the barely restrained, restless pheromones of a top-tier Alpha.
The intensity of the scent was stronger than usual, more aggressive, like a beast momentarily held back, making Isabella's chest tighten as if she were suffocating. She instinctively leaned back, trying to put some distance between them.
That subtle movement acted like a fuse, instantly igniting the suppressed agitation in Kane's eyes!
Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her slender wrist with a force so strong that she stifled a pained moan, feeling as though her bones might be crushed.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he pressed closer, his cold breath nearly grazing her face, gray-blue eyes storming, "The thing I gave you… it frightens you this much? Or… did you see something in it… that you shouldn't have? Hm?"
His voice was low, but laden with danger. Each word struck like an ice spike, and the overwhelming pheromones erupted like a tangible tsunami. It was no longer the usual calm, controlled dominance, but a rare, almost uncontrollable aggression and oppression, violently assaulting Isabella's senses.
She froze, terror-stricken, her face draining pale as if the blood had been pulled from her veins. She had never seen him display emotions so openly, so… close to losing control! The violent pheromone wave pressed down on her, making it almost impossible to breathe. Her Omega instincts froze her rigid, like prey locked in a predator's gaze, every bone trembling.
"I… I didn't…" she tried in vain to explain, her voice fractured, tears streaming uncontrollably from the fear and the pain in her wrist.
"Didn't?" Kane's eyes fixed on the falling tears, the storm in his gaze intensifying as if the tears themselves were an irritant. His other hand shot up—not to strike her, but roughly brushed across her cheek, wiping away the moisture, a movement filled with indescribable irritation and… some deeper, unrestrained desire.
His fingertips burned against her cold skin, a stark contrast that made her flinch.
Isabella was too terrified even to cry now, only able to stare at him helplessly, her teal eyes filled with fear.
Kane's breathing grew heavier. Something seemed to be breaking deep in the normally cold, rational eyes of his, the accumulated pressure from intense work, the aftermath of the Emerald City incident, and perhaps other troubles Isabella could not know of. Mixed with her fragile fear, the suspicious act of trying to hide something, and the faint yet pure Omega pheromones emanating from her in panic… all of it seemed to be the final straw, triggering an unstable surge in his pheromones.
An Alpha's pheromones are not always stable, especially under extreme fatigue, immense pressure, or intense stimulation. Even a momentary fluctuation can have catastrophic consequences—particularly for someone of Alexander Kane's caliber.
He suddenly pulled her toward him, closing the distance in an instant! Their foreheads nearly touched, and the heat between them mingled, his violent pheromones enveloping her like a cage, compressing her with a possessive aggression that seemed almost ready to consume her entirely.
"Tell me…" His voice was hoarse, terrifying, like the low growl of a trapped beast. His burning palm pressed against the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him, fingertips unconsciously brushing the delicate gland there, restrained under a cover. "What exactly are you thinking? What is hidden in those eyes of yours?"
Isabella trembled violently. The touch of his hand on her gland, combined with sheer terror, made her feel as if she were about to be torn apart by this uncontrollable force. She closed her eyes, despairingly bracing for the ultimate judgment.
Yet, the expected further harm never came.
Alexander's body was taut, muscles flexed as if drawn like a bow, gripping her arm firmly, breathing hot and erratic, his pheromone storm raging around him… yet he stopped.
He stared intently at her pale, fragile, tear-streaked face, at the eyelashes quivering like butterfly wings from fear, at the bitten lower lip turning red with blood…
A profoundly complex, twisted struggle roiled in his eyes: violent possessiveness mixed with a subtle restraint he may not even have been aware of; impulses of destruction battling with a strange, contradictory desire not to truly harm this fragility…
Finally, the terrifying, nearly uncontrollable storm of pheromones began to recede, extremely slowly and unevenly. Though still strong and imposing, the sense of impending destruction gradually became forcibly suppressed.
He abruptly released his grip, as if pushing away something scorching, and rose swiftly, turning his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell as he tried to calm the still-restless energy within him.
Isabella collapsed onto the sofa, gasping like a fish out of water. Her wrist bore a clear red mark, the back of her neck still burned from his touch, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably, the fear from her near-death ordeal gripping her completely.
The room sank into an eerie, suffocating silence, broken only by their uneven, heavy breaths.
After what felt like an eternity, Kane slowly turned back. His expression was still harsh, but the storm in his eyes had been barely restrained, covered again by a thick layer of icy composure. Yet beneath that frost, traces of unresolved turbulence lingered. His pheromones remained stronger than usual, carrying a restless agitation and an unspoken sense of suppression.
He glanced once at Isabella, curled up on the sofa, shivering and unable to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadably complex. Without a word, and without even looking at the tablet discarded in the corner of the sofa, he strode from the suite, closing the door heavily behind him.
The thunderous slam of the door made Isabella flinch again.
Only after confirming that he had truly left did she collapse, utterly drained, burying her burning face into the cold sofa cushions. Her body shook violently and silently, and tears of lingering fear poured uncontrollably from her eyes.
It was terrifying…
In that moment, she truly believed she might die…
Yet, at the same time, a clearer realization etched itself into her mind like a permanent mark: he was not always perfectly calm. He could be exhausted, overwhelmed by pressure, and… he could lose control.
Meanwhile, the faint signal from deep space cast another, entirely different and far more complex shadow over the dead silence of her mind.
After a long while, she gradually stopped trembling and sat up, her gaze falling on the tablet that had fallen to the floor.
The shock had almost made her forget what she had been doing moments ago.
She carefully picked up the tablet, took a deep breath, and turned the screen back on.
The simulation software was still on the previous interface, and her deliberately orchestrated, patterned "errors" in the controls… had they worked? Had they been logged? Would the ghost in deep space be able to perceive this response from the prisoner at the tower top, now even more resolute after enduring extreme fear?
She didn't know.
But she knew that from the moment she chose to respond, from the moment she had personally witnessed the terrifying power of an Alpha's pheromone losing control, some things would never be the same.
The faint glimmer in the rift continued to flicker.
And the gravitational field of the prison cage, disrupted by the sudden storm of uncontrolled energy, had become even more chaotic and unpredictable.
Isabella wiped her tears and looked at the cold starfield on the screen.
After experiencing the utmost terror, her gaze had settled into a single, desperate, ice-cold determination.