The sun is fully up now.
Golden light floods through the windows, warming the cold surfaces of Alana's apartment. The city below is awake—cars honking, sirens wailing, the constant hum of life.
But inside, time has stopped.
Alana sits on the couch. Wrapped in a blanket. Her legs are tucked beneath her. Her hands grip a mug of coffee that has long gone cold.
Alexander sits on the floor across from her. Cross-legged. The throw blanket still draped over his shoulders. He hasn't moved to touch her. Hasn't tried to close the distance. He sits like a penitent before a priest. Waiting. Watching.
The silence stretches between them. Thick. Heavy. Punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the wall.
*Tick. Tick. Tick.*
Alana stares at him. At the face she once knew better than her own. The sharp jaw. The dark hair. The golden eyes that used to make her heart race.
Now they make her chest ache.
"You killed three people." Her voice is flat. Hollow. "Tell me about them."
Alexander doesn't flinch. He expected this. Prepared for it.
"You want to know their names?"
"I want to know who they were. What they did. Why they deserved to die." She sets down the mug. The coffee sloshes. "I want to understand."
Alexander nods slowly. He takes a breath. Lets it out.
"The first was a man named Victor Renard."
---
Victor Renard.
Alana files the name away. Watches Alexander's face as he speaks.
"He was one of Marcus's enforcers. A wolf. Not high-ranking. Not important. Just a soldier. Someone who did what he was told without question."
"What did he do?"
Alexander's eyes darken. The gold seems to swirl. Like liquid fire.
"After the miscarriage... after you were discharged... Marcus held a gathering. At the mansion. A celebration. Not for our loss. For his victory." His voice is bitter. Acid. "He told the pack that the union between us was cursed. That the baby's death was a sign. That I was unfit to lead."
Alana's stomach turns. "He threw a party?"
"He called it a 'cleansing.' A new beginning. But it was a message. To me. To everyone. That he was in control. That he could take anything from me. And no one could stop him."
"And Victor Renard?"
Alexander's jaw tightens. His hands ball into fists on his knees.
"Renard was drunk. High on power. On Marcus's approval. He came up to me during the gathering. In front of everyone. And he laughed."
"He laughed?"
"He said..." Alexander pauses. Swallows. "He said, 'Shame about the pup, Alpha. But maybe it's for the best. Weak blood and all. Probably wouldn't have survived anyway.'" His voice drops to a whisper. "Then he laughed. Right in my face."
Alana's blood runs cold. Her hands tremble.
"He laughed about our baby."
"He mocked our child's death. In front of the entire pack. With Marcus watching. Smiling." Alexander's eyes burn. "That night, I followed Renard home. Waited until he was alone. And I asked him one question."
"What question?"
"I asked him who gave him the poison. Who switched the vitamins. Who delivered them." Alexander's face is stone. "He didn't want to answer. But I can be... persuasive."
Alana doesn't ask how. She doesn't want to know.
"He told me about the nurse. The courier. The whole chain." Alexander's voice is flat. "And then I killed him. Quick. Clean. I broke his neck before he could scream."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He meets her eyes. "He participated in the murder of our child. He mocked our baby's death. He deserved worse than what he got. But I gave him what I could."
Alana stares at him. The horror wars with something else. Something darker. A part of her that understands. That agrees.
*He laughed about my baby.*
*Our baby.*
*He deserved to die.*
She pushes the thought away. Forces herself to focus.
"The second," she says. "You said there were three."
---
Alexander nods.
"The second was a nurse. Margaret Chen. She worked at Seattle Grace. In the maternity ward."
Alana's breath catches. "I knew her."
She remembers. A middle-aged woman. Kind eyes. Gentle hands. Always checking on patients. Always bringing extra pillows. Always smiling.
"I worked with her," Alana continues. "She was... she seemed nice. Caring. I never—"
"She was on Marcus's payroll." Alexander's voice is hard. "For three years before the miscarriage. She was his inside source at the hospital. Feeding him information. Patient records. Schedules. Security codes."
"How do you know?"
"Renard told me. Before he died. He gave me names. Dates. Payment amounts. Everything." Alexander pauses. "Margaret Chen was the one who switched your vitamins. She had access to the pharmacy supply room. She had keys. Access codes. No one questioned her."
Alana thinks about the bottle. The white plastic container. The pink label. She had trusted it. Trusted the hospital. Trusted the system.
"She was there," Alana whispers. "When I was admitted. When I was bleeding. She was the one who..."
"Who checked your vitals. Who monitored the fetal heartbeat. Who told you everything was fine." Alexander's eyes are cold. "She knew. The whole time. She knew what was happening to you. And she did nothing."
Alana's hand flies to her abdomen. To the scar. The empty place.
"Why? Why would she do that?"
"Money. Fear. Loyalty to Marcus." Alexander shrugs. "Does it matter?"
"It matters to me." Alana's voice rises. "I want to understand. I want to know why someone would... would help murder a baby."
Alexander is silent for a moment.
"Her daughter was sick. Leukemia. Marcus promised to pay for treatment. Experimental procedures. The best doctors in the world." His voice is bitter. "He bought her. With her own child's life."
Alana's anger falters. Replaced by something complicated. Sorrow. Pity. Understanding.
"She was desperate."
"She was a murderer." Alexander doesn't soften. "Desperation doesn't excuse what she did. She made a choice. She chose Marcus over you. Over our baby. Over basic human decency."
"And you killed her for it."
"Yes." He doesn't flinch. "Two years after the miscarriage. After I'd gathered enough evidence. I went to her home. Confronted her. She cried. Begged. Told me about her daughter. Asked for mercy."
"Did you give it?"
"I gave her a choice." Alexander's voice is ice. "Confess. Turn herself in. Testify against Marcus. Or die."
"And?"
"She chose death." He shrugs. "She said Marcus would kill her daughter if she talked. She was more afraid of him than of me."
"So you killed her."
"Quick. Painless. A needle. She fell asleep and never woke up." He pauses. "I'm not a monster, Alana. I don't torture. I don't prolong suffering. I end it. Clean. Final."
Alana doesn't know what to say. The information is too much. Too heavy.
A nurse she worked with. A woman she trusted. Bought and paid for by a monster.
*How many others?*
*How deep does this go?*
---
"The third," she says finally. "You said three."
Alexander nods.
"The third was different. Not a wolf. Not part of the pack. A human."
"A human?"
"A hunter." Alexander's eyes darken. "Someone who works for an organization that tracks and kills werewolves. They've existed for centuries. In the shadows. Unknown to the public."
Alana's mind reels. "Hunters? Like... vampire hunters? Monster hunters?"
"Like werewolf hunters." Alexander's voice is grim. "They believe we're abominations. Unnatural. A threat to humanity. They track us. Study us. Kill us."
"And Marcus works with them?"
"Marcus uses them." Alexander corrects. "He feeds them information about rival packs. About wolves who threaten his power. In exchange, they do favors for him. Cover-ups. Disappearances. Things that need to stay hidden."
Alana thinks about this. A secret war. Hidden in plain sight.
"The hunter," she prompts. "What did he do?"
"His name was Daniel Cross. No relation to the Director. Just a soldier. A mercenary. He specialized in cleanup. Making deaths look like accidents. Car crashes. Fires. Suicides."
Alana's blood chills.
"He covered up the miscarriage?"
"He covered up the investigation." Alexander's hands clench. "After I started asking questions, after I started digging, Marcus got nervous. He hired Cross to make sure no evidence surfaced. Cross broke into the lab where I'd sent your bloodwork. Stole the samples. Deleted the records. Killed the technician who'd run the tests."
"Killed—"
"A car accident. Or so it looked like." Alexander's voice is flat. "But I knew. I could smell it. The blood. The fear. Cross had been there."
"How did you find him?"
"Renard gave me his name. Same as the others." Alexander pauses. "It took eight months to track him. He was careful. Professional. He moved constantly. Changed identities. Never stayed in one place."
"But you found him."
"I found him." Alexander's eyes are cold. "In a motel room in Portland. Drunk. Celebrating a successful job. I broke in at midnight. And I asked him questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"Who hired him. What he knew. Whether Marcus had other operatives in the hospital. In the city. In my life." Alexander's jaw tightens. "He told me everything. He was surprisingly cooperative. When faced with a wolf in human skin."
"And then?"
"And then I killed him." Alexander's voice is matter-of-fact. "Slit his throat. Watched him bleed out. Made sure he couldn't hurt anyone else."
Alana stares at him. At this man she thought she knew. This stranger with blood on his hands.
"Three people," she whispers. "Three murders. In five years."
"Three executions." Alexander doesn't look away. "I didn't enjoy it. Any of it. But I didn't regret it either. They took you from me. They took our baby. They deserved worse."
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Final.
Alana is silent for a long time. Her mind races. Her heart pounds.
She should be horrified. Disgusted. Running for the door.
But she's not.
Because somewhere deep inside—in the place where the wolf stirs—she understands.
*Justice. Not revenge.*
*An eye for an eye.*
*A life for a life.*
She looks at Alexander. At the pain in his eyes. The exhaustion in his face. The weight on his shoulders.
He has been carrying this alone. For five years. Hunting. Killing. Bleeding. All for her. All for a baby he never got to hold.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asks finally. "Why now? Why tell me all of this?"
Alexander meets her eyes.
"Because I need your help."
Alana's breath catches.
"My help? For what?"
"To kill the biggest one." Alexander's voice drops. Low. Dangerous. "To kill Marcus."
---
The words echo in the silence.
*Kill Marcus.*
Alana's heart races. Her hands tremble.
"You want me to help you kill a man."
"Not a man. A monster." Alexander stands. Paces. The blanket falls from his shoulders. He doesn't notice. "Marcus has killed dozens. Maybe hundreds. My father. Our baby. Countless others. He runs a trafficking ring. Sells women and children to the highest bidder. Uses his power to rape and murder and destroy."
"And you want to kill him."
"I want to end him." Alexander turns. His golden eyes blaze. "But I can't do it alone. He's too powerful. Too protected. The pack won't move against him without undeniable proof. The elders won't act without witness testimony. The hunters won't cross him because he feeds them information."
"So what do you need from me?"
Alexander steps closer. Inches from her. His eyes bore into hers.
"I need you to be bait."
---
Alana freezes.
"Bait?"
"Marcus has a new plan." Alexander's voice is rough. "He's dying. The cancer. He has months. Maybe less. And before he dies, he wants to secure his legacy. His bloodline."
"He wants a child."
"He wants *your* child." Alexander's hands ball into fists. "He believes the prophecy. That a child born of the Luna of Two Worlds will unite the packs. Bring unlimited power. He's obsessed with it. Has been for years."
Alana's stomach turns. "He wants me to... carry his baby?"
"Yes." Alexander's voice is ice. "But he's willing to accept a substitute. A child from the Pierce bloodline. He's demanded that I provide a surrogate. For my brother Derek. To carry on the family name."
Alana remembers. Derek. The gentle brother. The one who loved her from afar.
"Derek agreed to this?"
"Derek agreed to help us." Alexander's eyes soften. "He's not like Marcus. He hates what his father has become. He wants to stop him. Protect the pack. Protect you."
"How?"
"We do the IVF. Make it look like you're carrying Derek's child. But we switch the samples. The baby will be ours. Mine and yours." Alexander's voice cracks. "A child Marcus thinks is his legacy. But is actually our justice."
Alana stands. Her legs are shaky. Her mind is chaos.
"You want me to get pregnant. Carry a child. Risk my life. To trap a monster."
"Yes."
"And when Marcus finds out?"
"He won't. Not until it's too late. By then, we'll have evidence. Proof. Testimony. We'll expose him to the elders. Strip him of his power. And then..."
"Then you kill him."
"Then I end him." Alexander steps closer. "For our baby. For my father. For everyone he's ever hurt."
Alana stares at him. At the desperation in his eyes. The hope. The fear.
This is insane. Impossible. A suicide mission.
But somewhere deep inside, the wolf stirs. Hungry for justice. For blood. For vengeance.
*I want to help.*
The thought terrifies her.
"I need time," she says. Her voice shakes. "To think. To process."
"I know." Alexander nods. "Take whatever time you need. But not too long. Marcus is moving. He knows I'm back. He knows I've contacted you. Every day we wait, he grows stronger."
Alana doesn't respond. She walks to the door. Opens it.
A dismissal.
Alexander understands. He picks up his coat. Walks toward the exit.
He pauses at the threshold. Turns.
"I know this is too much. I know I'm asking you to rewrite everything you believe. But please..." His voice breaks. "Please consider it. For our baby. For justice."
Alana doesn't answer.
He leaves.
The door closes behind him.
Alana stands alone in her apartment. The papers on the floor. The truth in her heart.
*A plan. A trap. A war.*
*And a monster who needs her help.*
She walks to the window. Looks out at the city. The sun is high now. The day has begun.
Her hand rests on her abdomen. On the scar. The empty place.
*I couldn't save you, little one.*
*But I can avenge you.*
The fire burns brighter.