OLIVIA
Something felt off.
~Okay~. Letâs be real. ~Clearly~, something was ~off~.
She ~was~ bleeding.
But that wasnât the issue.
She was a nurse. Sheâd seen blood, sheâd seen miscarriages.
Each one was unique. Some women were okay. Some didnât even bleed. Sometimes, the body didnât understand what was happening, and intervention was necessary.
It happened.
There wasnât a single way it could happen.
It varied from person to person.
But why didnât that knowledge alleviate the feeling that something was ~off~? She was bleeding. That was a fact.
Hell, bleeding didnât always signify impending doom. Many women bled and still had perfectly normal pregnancies.
Sheâd given herself that pep talk. Sheâd tell patients to relax, breathe, and until they knew for certain, there were no definitive answers.
Yet, she couldnât convince herself of the same thing.
The blood was red. Bright red. Not brown, not old. Fresh blood. But it was so little. There were cramps, but they werenât severe.
Like the mild cramps sheâd get during her periods. She didnât feel nauseous.
There was enough blood for it to be a period, or a miscarriage, really. But the blood wasnât thick.
Considering how far along she might be, if she was shedding this amount of blood, shouldnât there be thicker amounts? There wasnât much of a baby to lose yet butâ¦
~Something felt off~.
Alex couldnât be her confidant. Jason hadnât even reached him when he had collapsed in the basement. He had scooped her up and whisked her away.
To say he was worried ~and~ fucking angry would be an understatement.
She had tried to reason with him. She had tried to assure him that it didnât mean the worst had occurred.
Granted, the tears streaming down her face probably didnât help her caseâ¦
In the end, he hadnât listened.
Even now, as she sat on the toilet, she could feel his raw anger and hatred radiating off him. She knew what he was doing, but she hadnât stopped him. Not that she could have. No one could have stopped him.
He blamed ~them~. He blamed them for something that might not even be happening. If she ~was~ losing the baby, maybe it was their fault. Maybe it was the stress, the fear of it all. Maybe it was the injuries she had.
Maybe it was because she shifted?
She didnât know. She didnât know how pregnancy worked for werewolves. No one had explained it to her. Maybe there was no difference.
No amount of research or human knowledge could assist her with this one.
But regardless of the reason, time had passed, and the outcome was here. If she was losing it, no amount of bloodshed would change that.
Yet, she hadnât stopped him.
She was such a hypocrite. She didnât stand up for them; she didnât try to soothe him. She didnât know if he went after them or not, but she knew he wasnât here.
He had put her to bed, tucked her in, and then left.
Where else could he have gone?
Nowhere.
Olivia had barely managed to say a word. Then again, what was there to say?
Nothing.
There was nothing she could say to alter this, to change his mind. And now, as selfish as it was, she didnât know if she wanted to change it.
Logically, this could happen for a myriad of reasons.
And even if it was due to recent events, the point she had fought so hard to make remained. ~But~... but going down there hadnât provided her with more information; it hadnât proven anything.
Instead, it made Alex more right.
They didnât want anything from her. These were lost souls; they were ~tainted~. She knew others heard her conversation with the girl, but no one even stepped forward or spoke up. None of them wanted her to save them.
Even if she resisted it, even if she tried to persuade Alex, she couldnât decide for them. They chose death.
She had been wrong. Alex had known; they all had known. Even Maya had refused to get involved in this.
~Maya~.
Maybe Maya could help her ease her doubts. She didnât want to bring this to Alex yetânot until she was certain. Plus, he was in no state of mind to think clearly about this.
She grabbed her phone from the ceramic counter next to the toilet and opened her text messages.
She let out a sigh, her head falling against her bare knees.
Was she hoping to be wrong or right?
She wasnât sure.
***
ALEXANDER
âBring the bleach.â
Jasonâs voice reached Alex, but it was muffled and distant.
He couldnât concentrate on it. Instead, he stood in the center of the basement, feeling the warm blood drip from his hands.
Transforming back from wolf to human hadnât done much to clean the blood off his skin.
He hadnât wanted it to.
Bits of flesh were lodged between his human teeth.
He tried to dislodge them with his tongue, but it was no use. ~Doesnât matter~. Each swallow was tainted with the metallic taste of blood.
Alex hadnât allowed anyone else to join in. He couldnât.
He wanted to witness the life drain from them. He wanted to see the vacant look in these bastardsâ eyes. They didnât deserve to live; they didnât deserve another breath.
Thatâs why heâd been against Oliviaâs plan from the start.
Even though she hadnât been hurt during her little game, it only confirmed his belief. They were vermin. They didnât want to be saved, and they didnât deserve it.
Theyâd challenged his authority, hurt his mate, and possibly killed his child. An eye for an eye wasnât enough.
He wanted all their lives extinguished, and even that wasnât a high enough price for their actions, for what theyâd stolen from him.
Their bright red blood painted every wall of the basement. The red fluid pooled on the floor, seeping into it. No amount of bleach would erase that. Heâd smell their end every time he entered the basement.
~That was fine with him~. A reminder that he was the one who tore them apart, the one who made them scream until their voices broke.
He didnât let them off easy. They didnât deserve that mercy.
He hadnât done enough. He hadnât made them suffer enough for their sins.
âNeed anything?â Jason asked, cautiously stepping beside him.
He shook his head.
âThey all gone?â
Jason nodded.
âWhereâs Olivia?â
âMason said sheâs with Mayaâupstairs.â
~Good~. She wasnât alone. She shouldnât be alone. ~He~ shouldnât have left her alone, but he had. What other choice did he have? Every second they were alive was a second too long.
He didnât want them alive; he didnât want them ~near~ her.
Now that heâd dealt with the problem, he had to take care of his mate.
He was about to head upstairs when his ears picked up a sound.
It was faint, barely audible, but he heard it. A breath. Someone was still alive. His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head.
~Who hadnât gotten the message~?
Jason didnât say anything but moved aside, understanding. It took a few steps, but he found the still-moving body. A man. ~Trash~.
He was face down on the ground, struggling to breathe.
A pool of blood was forming under him. He was wounded, but it hadnât been enough to end his miserable life. Hadnât he been brutal enough?
Hadnât he taken enough from him?
~He would correct that error~.
One step.
Then another.
Once he was close enough, he slowly raised his foot, positioning it just right. Then, a swift stomp.
The sound of his foot crushing the manâs skull echoed in the room.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
But he had to be ~certain~ this time that he wouldnât breathe or exist again.
So he kept pressing down, crushing the bones until they barely made a sound.
There was blood.
It splattered. It stained him further.
What was one more drop?
Finally satisfied, he lifted his foot and turned to Jason.
âClean this mess up.â
Jason only nodded, avoiding his gaze.
Heâd have them burned at the edge of the packâs territory.
That way, no one would dare challenge his rule again.
He would never show mercy again.