Page 9 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

The past few weeks have been a storm, just as I predicted the moment Lawrence fixed me with that piercing stare during the dinner. He didn’t even have to say a word—I knew exactly what was coming. And I was right.

Scrutiny from him and the elders has been relentless. They’ve woven their disapproval into every corner of my life. Board meetings that were supposed to be about quarterly projections have somehow turned into impromptu interventions about my personal life. They’ve cornered me in my office, even arranged formal sit-downs with Alex like it’s some twisted job interview.

The speeches are always the same. How unbecoming it is for someone like me to be with someone like him. How a janitor isn’t good enough for the future of the company, let alone my life. The sheer audacity makes my blood boil every single time.

Damn them. Damn them all.

I’ve told them repeatedly to back off, that it’s none of their business. I was single, now I’m not—that should’ve been the end of it. But their pressure is unrelenting, and it’s draining me more than I’d care to admit.

And then there’s Frank. Oh, Frank.

It’s as if he’s taken it upon himself to personally torment Alex. Every dry joke, every condescending jab—it’s all designed to rile me up. “Janitor, you missed a spot,” he’ll say as Alex walks by, doing his rounds. Alex barely even acknowledges it. He just carries on, calm and unbothered. But it grinds at me so much.

I take a deep breath, letting the rhythm of my footsteps center me as I head to my office. It’s the start of another workday, and all I want is to get through it without any confrontations or smug quips from Frank or Lawrence.

Just one peaceful day—please.

I turn the handle and step inside, but the second I do, I sense something. The room isn’t empty. I can feel it. My hand instinctively moves to the light switch, and the overhead lights hum to life.

There, by my desk, stands Alex.

I arch a brow in surprise. We just stand there for a moment, the silence stretching. His face is composed, unreadable for a beat, but then he cracks it with a soft, “Good morning, Katherine.”

“Alex?” My tone is more curious than anything else. “I thought your shift doesn’t start till tonight.”

He nods, slow and deliberate. “It doesn’t. I forgot my cell phone here yesterday, and by the time I realized, it was too late to come back. So I figured I’d swing by this morning.”

“And tidy the office while you’re at it,” I observe, noticing how spotless everything looks.

A small, warm feeling stirs in my chest. Even when he has no reason to, Alex goes out of his way to be helpful. He could’ve just grabbed his phone and left, but no—he straightened up the space too. And through all the humiliation Frank’s been hurling his way, he hasn’t so much as flinched. He’s handled it with grace, all because of a situation I pulled him into.

I smile, the warmth in my chest spreading.

Alex nods, stepping away from the desk and heading for the door. But just as his hand brushes the handle, I call out. “Alex…”

He turns back, his eyes meeting mine with that same steady warmth.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “For being kind. For being… you.”

For a second, I’m afraid the words don’t convey enough, that they don’t fully express the gratitude swirling inside me. But his expression turns, and he nods, offering me one of those rare smiles.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks, his tone light.

“Always,” I reply, the corner of my mouth quirking up.

With a gentle click, the door closes behind him, leaving me alone. The space feels quieter now, but lighter, as though just seeing him has eased me a little.

I sink into my chair and start up my computer, slipping into my usual morning routine of sorting through emails. Most of it is standard: invoices, reports, a few memos that require approval. But then something unusual catches my eye.

A file sitting squarely on my desktop, one I don’t recall putting there. The title reads Financial Dept Doc.

Curiosity sparks, and I click on it without hesitation.

The file opens, and my eyes scan through it. At first glance, it’s standard documentation from the financial department—the department Frank oversees. A collection of budgets, allocations, and approvals, all with my signature at the bottom. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that raises an immediate red flag.

But as I dig deeper, something changes. The details start to form a picture I wasn’t expecting. My eyes narrow as I come across the first set of anomalies—transactions that seem off. Transfers of company money to personal accounts. My stomach tightens as I scroll further, my eyes catching on the name associated with these accounts.

Frank.

The travel budget, the security budget, even funds from the Asian project—he’s been siphoning money out of all of it. Transactions disguised as legitimate expenses, but the paper trail is damning.

This is theft.

A hot wave of anger washes over me, sharp and searing. My hands grip the edge of the desk as the realization fully sets in. Frank, with all his smugness and arrogance, has been lining his pockets at the expense of the company. At the expense of my company.

I take a moment to cross-reference the numbers, matching the file against our current expenditure records. It’s all accurate. Every single discrepancy matches the figures in the report. There’s no doubt—Frank has been skimming off the top for who knows how long.

My chest tightens, my breath quickening as the weight of it all hits me. It’s not just about the money. It’s about the betrayal, the audacity of him, throwing cheap shots at Alex, all while stealing from the company under my nose.

I move with purpose, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I draft an email to the board members. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Subject: Emergency Board Meeting

Time: 12:00 PM

Attendance: Mandatory

The message is short and to the point. There’s no room for misinterpretation—everyone needs to be there.

As I hit “Send,” a new wave of resolve steadies me. Frank’s games end today.

12pm arrives in a flash.

The boardroom is alive with murmurs when I step in, the sound bouncing off the polished oak table and the sleek, modern walls. Every head turns my way, the conversations quieting as my heels click sharply against the floor. I can feel their gazes. It doesn’t bother me. If anything, it fuels me. I am the power in this room, and today, they’ll all know it.

Frank is already seated, of course. He’s sprawled back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the side, his other hand tracing lazy circles on the surface of the table.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I say, my voice crisp as I take my seat.

“Good afternoon, Katherine,” comes the chorus of responses, Frank’s voice obnoxiously loud among them. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “This is quite the surprise. What’s so urgent?”

I meet his gaze, keeping my expression cool and composed. “I have some questions for you, Frank.”

“Questions? About what?”

“About the company finances,” I reply smoothly, letting my words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Specifically, some discrepancies I’ve noticed in recent reports.”

The room grows colder, heavier. Frank’s features are washed by a flicker of uncertainty. “Discrepancies? I’m not sure I follow.”

I lean forward, locking my hands together on the table. “Let me make it simple for you. I’m talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars—company funds—that you’ve been diverting into your personal accounts.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Gasps ripple around the room, and all eyes snap to Frank. His skin pales, his fingers twitching against the table as though scrambling for something to hold onto. For a fleeting moment, he looks genuinely stunned, but he recovers quickly, his mask of arrogance slipping back into place.

“That’s a serious accusation,” he says, his voice strained but steady.

“It’s not an accusation,” I say, my tone colder now. With a few clicks on the tablet in front of me, the evidence flashes onto the large screen behind me. “It’s a fact.”

The room falls silent again, the only sound the faint hum of the projector. Line after line of incriminating data is displayed—transactions, receipts, timestamps, all meticulously documented. The impact is palpable. The board members move in their seats uncomfortably, even Lawrence’s face betrays his shock.

Frank’s mask cracks further. His mouth opens, then closes as though searching for words. Finally, he manages a stammer. “You… you don’t understand. I was just—”

“Enough,” I cut in, my voice sharp. I rise from my seat, standing tall as I glare down at him. “You’ve betrayed this company. Effective immediately, you’re suspended from your position as CFO, pending a full investigation.”

The room seems to hold its breath. Frank’s jaw tightens, his teeth visibly gritting. “This is personal,” he snaps. “You’re only doing this to get back at me for calling out your little fling with that janitor!”

The jab hits, but I don’t let it show. I’ve anticipated this, prepared for it. “This isn’t about Alex,” I say evenly, though my voice carries a warning edge. “This is about your theft, your lies, and your utter disregard for this company. You’re lucky I haven’t called the police. Yet.”

Frank’s face flushes red, and for a moment, he looks ready to argue. But I don’t give him the chance. “Leave the building,” I order, my tone final. “Or I’ll have security escort you out.”

The silence stretches as everyone watches, waiting to see if he’ll make a scene. He doesn’t. With a glare that could peel paint, Frank shoves his chair back and storms out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

I stand there for a few seconds, letting the moment settle. No one speaks. Slowly, I gather my files and I leave the boardroom.

As I step into the hallway, the anger inside me simmers, but it’s joined by something else—satisfaction. Frank’s arrogance has finally caught up with him. And now, for the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe. Alex won’t have to endure Frank’s taunts anymore, and that alone makes this victory all the sweeter.

This week has been quieter, and I don’t take that for granted. The air in the office feels less tense without Frank’s snide remarks poisoning the atmosphere. Without his constant jabs at Alex, I’ve been able to focus a little better, breathe a little easier.

But there have been... odd moments.

Like earlier this week, when I slipped on a random puddle of water on the staircase. It came out of nowhere—I didn’t even notice the puddle until my heel betrayed me, and I felt myself tilt backward. My stomach clenched as gravity took over, but before I could hit the ground, Alex’s hand shot out and caught me.

Then there was yesterday. I was walking past one of the large decorative paintings in the corridor when, without warning, it came crashing off the wall. The sound of the frame hitting the ground was sharp, almost deafening, but it never hit me. Alex had yanked me out of its path in the split second before it could.

They’re just random mishaps, sure. Nothing to read into. But Alex doesn’t seem to think so. He hasn’t said much about it, but I can see the worry etched on his face. It’s in the way his eyes scan the surroundings whenever I’m near, like he’s expecting something else to go wrong. It’s in the way he lingers just a little longer in a room after I’ve left, as if he’s double-checking something.

And it’s heartwarming, really. I don’t think he even realizes how protective he’s being. Sometimes he acts like a guard dog, always scanning around and watching for danger.

But today is Friday, and for once, I’m looking forward to being out of the office. Alex has started staying over at my place on the weekends, and I find myself counting down the hours to when we can both just be—no board meetings, no passive-aggressive encounters, no distractions.

When the workday ends, I slip into my coat and grab my bag, dialing Alex’s number as I head for the elevator.

“Hey,” I say when he picks up. “Meet me in the parking lot?”

“Already on my way,” he replies, and I can hear the faint hum of movement in the background.

I hang up, the anticipation of the weekend bubbling in my chest.

The parking lot is quiet, the rows of cars glinting under the waning sunlight. I lean against my car, the cool metal steadying me as I wait.

When Alex appears, my breath catches.

He’s wearing a crisp white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, tanned forearms that flex with every movement. His jeans hang low on his hips.

“On chauffeur duties today?” he quips as he takes the keys from my hand, his fingers brushing mine.

The warmth lingers, but I manage a small laugh as I slide into the passenger seat.

The drive is smooth, the cityscape blurring past the windows as Alex navigates the streets with practiced ease. I can’t stop myself from watching him out of the corner of my eye; the way his hands grip the wheel, firm and steady, the way the muscles in his forearms flex as he turns, the way his profile looks impossibly perfect in the golden light of the setting sun.

I swallow hard, trying to banish the thoughts swirling in my mind.

I open my mouth to say something—anything, really. Anything to keep my brain occupied, to distract from the thoughts this gorgeous man is causing me to have. But before the words even form, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.

A car.

It’s not just driving, though. It’s moving. Fast. Too fast. My stomach tightens as the sleek, black jeep zooms up behind us, overtaking other cars like they’re standing still. It’s rugged and dark, built like a predator on wheels. And then it pulls level with us, right alongside, as though this isn’t some random coincidence. As though it’s watching.

The jeep tilts slightly, a sharp, jerky movement, like whoever’s behind the wheel is adjusting their grip. Then it evens out, maintaining an unsettlingly steady pace, its hulking frame riding just a hair too close to our own car.

Something’s wrong.

My pulse starts to race, my chest tightening with a mix of confusion and unease.

“Alex…” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the low hum of our engine. My eyes are locked on the jeep now, wide and unblinking.

I feel Alex glance over but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything. Not before it happens.

The jeep veers slightly to the side, creating just enough space between us to build momentum. Then, in one violent, gut-wrenching motion, it swerves hard.

Alex reacts in an instant. His hands grip the wheel, yanking it hard. The tires screech, the car swerves, and the jeep misses us by inches—barely.

“What the hell was that?” I yell, my voice cracking.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw clenches, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. Without a word, his foot slams the gas, and we lurch forward. The engine growls as we tear down the road, leaving the jeep behind—or so I think.

My pulse pounds in my ears. Was it a mistake? A close call? Some reckless driver who wasn’t paying attention?

I get my answer seconds later.

The jeep roars to life behind us, closing the gap fast. Too fast. My stomach twists into knots as it gains on us, headlights blazing like a predator locked onto its prey.

And then— bam.

It hits us. Metal crunches, the car jolts violently, and I nearly hit the dashboard. My heart leaps into my throat.

“Alex—”

“Hold on!” His voice cuts through the chaos as he presses the pedal to the floor, but it’s no use. We’re not outrunning them.

The jeep barrels forward, its engine snarling, until it pulls up alongside us. My chest tightens, every nerve in my body screaming.

It veers sharply—too sharp.

Bang.

The impact is deafening. Metal slams against metal, and the force of the collision sends our car lurching sideways. My window shatters in an explosion of glass, sharp shards flying past my face. Alex grips the wheel tightly, but it’s no use. The car skids out of control, tires screeching against the asphalt, and before I can even process what’s happening, we’re off the road.

We’re spinning.

The world blurs into a dizzying kaleidoscope of green and brown as the car careens down a steep slope, crashing through the dense underbrush of the woods. The sound is overwhelming—branches snapping, the crunch of metal against dirt, the dull roar of gravity dragging us further and further down.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I scream, the words tumbling out without thought, my voice barely audible over the chaos.

The car jolts violently as it hits a rock, flipping onto its side. My stomach flips along with it, the seatbelt digging into my chest as I’m thrown forward.

We’re still moving. Spinning. Falling.

I’m going to die.

This is how it ends.

And then, to my horror, I see a tree branch jutting outward, sharp and unforgiving, pointed directly at me as the car tumbles violently down.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears.

And everything stops.

Nothingness takes over.