NICHOLAS
I thought been Alpha would be easy but being Alpha wasn't a title. It was a curse, a burden, a weight that never slept. When I inherited the responsibility from my father, I expected the worst to be living in his shadow. I was wrong.
The hardest part was patience. And the waiting.
I sat behind my office desk, the one that had a view over the center of Winnor Pack territory. The sun was dipping low, the sky painted in hues of blood and fire, but my thoughts were already immersed in the business of the evening. Territorial war, rogue threats, alliance agreements. All the usual fucking crap. But none of it came close to the one thing that consumed me, evening after evening.
Annalise Keaton.
The Omega who slipped away from me.
My pack called her a ghost, a specter. The lowest of our kind, once, the punching bag girl, a servant, an invisible stain on our name. But now, she was different. A name that was mentioned in whispers. A legend among wolves and humans.
A renowned surgeon, they said. "Hidden away," living near beast among humans. But no matter where she'd fled, how near she'd kept them, she was still mine.
As had never been able to forget her scent. Nor I.
As our knock at the door was sharp. Two. My Beta, come to see me at my request.
"Come in," I grumbled, not taking time to shift gaze from the window.
Kenny walked in, his scent carrying that familiar mix of adrenaline and contentment. He only had that scent when he had news. Good news.
"We found her."
My idle hands on the desk tightened into fists. Slowly. Hard.
"Where?"
"City outskirts. Human territory. Small apartment, under a fake name, but the facial recognition software flagged her. She still uses the same emergency contact. Same habits. Same coffee shop every Tuesday, same grocery run on Sundays."
I turned, fully facing him now. My wolf, buried deep beneath my skin, stirred with a low, eager snarl.
"You're certain?"
"One hundred percent. She's still there. But there's more."
Kenny hesitated, a fleeting look of something unreadable flicking across his face.
"Spit it out," I growled.
"Draco's guards have been spotted around. The guard of the Wolf King. They're watching her too."
Draco.
The name was bitter on my tongue. The Wolf King had never had any instinct for leaving things alone, but this was over the line. Annalise was pack property. She had business to resolve with us—with me.
I stood, every muscle coiled tight with purpose. My voice was cold steel.
"I want her brought to me. Now. Quietly. Before Draco gets there first."
Kenny nodded. "Understood. I've already dispatched a retrieval team."
I stalked around the desk, moving to stand by the window, watching the last sliver of daylight sink beneath the horizon. The night belonged to wolves. It always had.
And Annalise Keaton would learn, once again, that no matter how quickly she ran, the past never stopped chasing.
I never thought the end would feel so.quiet.
The forest had been alive with the scent of blood and the sharp, iron-tinged bite of betrayal moments before. I'd been ambushed, a clean, calculated strike by rogues who knew my every move, every blind spot. Someone had sold me out.
The last strike — a slashing blow across my chest, deep enough that I felt the wet crunch of muscle opening — had sent me collapsing to my knees. My wolf, Kade, was shrieking inside me, thrashing, but we were too weakened now to shift. The pain burned through every nerve, making thought fleeting.
I was going to die here.
Her voice sliced through the haze.
"Get him inside! Now!"
Annalise.
I wondered if I was hallucinating at first — the scent of lilies, her sharp, crisp voice. But then I felt her hands on me, firmer than I would have thought possible for a woman so small. I was being lifted, carried, pushed through doors, voices yelling on all sides of me.
"Stay awake, Nicholas! Can you hear me? Keep your eyes on me!"
I tried. Gods, I tried. But the darkness was hungry.
When I woke up, the lights were too bright, the antiseptic odor burned my senses. My chest was constricted, sore, wrapped in layers of bandages. It ached to move, burning pain along my side, but I managed to turn my head.
And there she was.
Annalise Keaton.
She was sitting in the chair next to my bed, arms crossed, eyes sharp with exhaustion. She looked like hell herself — hair tied back sloppily, dark circles under her eyes, blood on her scrubs — my blood.
"You should be dead," she said matter-of-factly. "You nearly were."
My throat was dry, my voice a rasp. "You. operated on me?"
She raised an eyebrow, and for a moment there was the barest hint of a smirk. "No one else was talented enough or fast enough. Lucky you."
I had no time to reply before the door slammed open.
Emily.
My mate.
She walked in, her lips curling into a scowl as her eyes landed on Annalise. I saw it immediately — the jealousy, wild and uncontrolled, burning in her eyes.
"You're still here?" she growled, stepping between Annalise and me, shielding me like Annalise was the threat. "Haven't you done enough?"
Annalise didn't flinch. She simply stood, removed her gloves, and threw them away. Her tone was level, cutting.
"I'm the reason he's alive. You're welcome."
Emily's hands clenched at her sides. "I'm his mate. I should've—"
"You weren't trained for what he needed," Annalise interrupted, eyes as cold as the scalpel she would have used. "I was."
A silence hung between them, weighted with unspoken things.
I tried to lift my hand, groaning as I did. "Enough," I croaked. My gaze darted back and forth between them. "Both of you."
Emily turned to me, her face softening in worry. "You should rest. I'll stay with you."
But even as she said it, her posture was defensive, possessive. I didn't fault her. My affection for her may have been official, but Annalise's presence had never failed to make her uncomfortable.
Annalise didn't stay to argue. She gathered up her things, wiped her hands clean, and left with a terse, "He'll need antibiotics and monitoring."
The room was chillier without her.
Emily planted herself beside me on the bed, her hands intertwining with mine, eyes still trained on the door through which Annalise had left.
"You're not hers," she whispered, though I wasn't sure she was reminding herself — or me.
And at that moment, I wasn't sure either.