Chapter 246
Chapter 247
ALEXANDER
+25 Points
By the time Cole and I pulled up in front of my mother’s house, the sun was already going down.
It was almost evening.
That alone unsettled me.
Helen was a creature of habit. If she planned to be out late, she would have let Irene know. If she planned to stay in, every light would have been on by now, the house alive in that quiet, controlled way that always announced her presence before you ever saw her.
But the mansion sat too still.
I cut the engine and stepped out of the car, my instincts sharpening immediately. Cole did the same, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert without a word exchanged between us. We didn’t need to talk. Years of working together had taught us how to read each other’s silences.
As we approached the front door, something felt… off.
I reached for the handle out of habit–and it turned easily.
Unlocked.
I froze.
My gaze snapped to Cole’s. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening as he gave a subtle nod.
That wasn’t a mistake Helen would make.
Not ever.
We entered slowly, every step measured, every breath controlled. I let my senses stretch outward, searching for anything–fear, blood, a lingering foreign scent–but the house greeted us with
silence.
The sitting room was in order.
Nothing overturned. No broken furniture. No signs of struggle. The cushions were perfectly arranged, the coffee table spotless, the curtains drawn just enough to let the fading daylight in. It looked exactly the way Helen liked it.
If something had happened, it hadn’t happened here.
“ I’ll check downstairs, ” Cole murmured.
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Chapter 247
I nodded. “I’ll go up.”
We split without hesitation.
I took the stairs two at a time, my pulse thudding harder with every step. The second–floor hallway
stretched before me, dim and familiar. I’d walked these halls a lot. I knew every corner, every creak
of the floorboards.
My mother’s door was slightly ajar.
That sent a sharp spike of unease straight through my chest.
I pushed it open slowly.
Her bedroom greeted me with shadows and the faint scent of her perfume–but the first thing I
noticed stopped me cold.
The bed.
It wasn’t made.
The sheets were rumpled, the covers thrown back carelessly, pillows slightly out of place.
Helen would never leave her room like this… not even on her worst days when she was sick.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my eyes scanning the space with ruthless attention. The dresser drawers were closed. Jewelry untouched. Closet doors neatly aligned. No
signs of forced entry.
I checked the bathroom. Empty.
The adjoining sitting nook. Empty.
I opened the wardrobe, my heart pounding harder now, half–expecting–half–dreading–to find something I couldn’t undo.
Nothing.
No blood, no torn fabric, no obvious clues.
Just absence.
And absence could be louder than any scream.
I exhaled slowly and stepped back into the hallway, my mind racing through possibilities I didn’t want to give shape to yet. I checked the guest room. The study upstairs. Every corner yielded the
same result.
Nothing.
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I went back downstairs, my steps heavier now, dread coiling tighter in my gut with each one
Cole was already in the living area when I returned.
“Anything?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
“Same here,” he said. “Every room downstairs is clean.”
Confusion twisted with worry in my chest.
If someone had taken her, they’d done it carefully. Professionally.
My gaze drifted across the sitting room again, slower this time, less focused on the obvious. That
was when I saw it.
Near the couch.
On the floor.
My breath caught.
I moved toward it slowly, my heart beginning to pound so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
Her phone.
Helen’s phone lay on the ground, screen shattered beyond recognition, the casing bent at an
unnatural angle.
I crouched and picked it up carefully.
This hadn’t fallen.
A fall would’ve cracked the screen, maybe dented a corner.
This?
This looked like it had been crushed.
Deliberately.
My fingers tightened around the broken device, heat flaring through my chest. My jaw clenched so
hard it ached.
Cole noticed my stillness and turned. “What is it?”
I held the phone up.
He swore under his breath, moving closer. “That didn’t happen by accident.”
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Raye burned hot and sharp beneath my ribs, but t forend it down foldet afford emotong now I needed clarity.
Suddenly, I noticed it the moment the air shifted.
Not gound, not movement. Just the faint awareness that we were no longer alone
The house had been silent for too long, and now the silence felt deliberate. I stopped moving, my hand still resting on the back of the couch, and let my senses stretch outward. Someone was outside. More than one person.
I didn’t say anything to Cole right away. I didn’t need to. The way his steps slowed behind me told
me he felt it too.
I moved toward the window carefully, keeping my profile out of sight. The curtains were
half–drawn, enough for me to see the lawn and the tree line beyond. Dusk had settled in, turning
familiar shapes into something less defined. Shadows pooled near the hedges. One of them
shifted.
That was when the warning came–too late to stop it.
Something struck me hard in the side.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs and drove me back a step. Pain followed immediately,
sharp and concentrated. I looked down and saw the shaft of an arrow lodged just below my ribs.
For a second, I didn’t move.
Not because I couldn’t–but because I was assessing it. Depth. Angle. Whether it had hit anything
vital.
It hadn’t.
“Alexander,” Cole said, already moving toward me.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice came out tighter than I intended.
I broke the shaft and pulled the arrow free in one motion. It hurt, but the pain stayed manageable. Blood soaked into my shirt. I pressed my palm against the wound and turned back toward the
window.
Another arrow struck the frame where my head had been seconds earlier.
So that was their plan.
“They’re using the trees,” Cole said. “At least three of them.”
I nodded. The choice of weapon wasn’t ceremonial or symbolic – It was practical. Silent. Hard to trace. Effective against someone they didn’t want to confront directly.
They weren’t here to finish the job..
They were here to send a message.
I moved away from the window and circled toward the side exit instead. If they wanted me contained inside the house, I wasn’t going to give them that advantage.
The door opened quietly. Cool air rushed in.
I stepped out and immediately rolled to the side as another arrow hit the ground where I’d been standing. I tracked the trajectory this time. One shooter, elevated, left flank.
I sprinted.
The distance closed fast. The attacker tried to reposition but hesitated–long enough for me to reach him. I didn’t shift. I didn’t roar. I just hit him hard, driving him off balance and into the dirt.
He didn’t fight back for long.
I didn’t let myself think.
Thinking would slow me down, and rage was already clawing at my spine, begging for release.
I spun, blood roaring in my ears, senses locking onto the others fleeing through the trees. They moved fast–trained, coordinated–but not fast enough.
“Cole–right!” I barked.
He was already moving.
We split instinctively, the way we always did. No hesitation. Just muscle memory forged by years of violence and survival.
I went after the one closest to me.
Branches whipped against my face as I tore through the undergrowth, pain from the arrow wound flaring but irrelevant. The attacker glanced back once–just once–and that mistake cost him everything. I launched, tackled him from behind, and we crashed hard into the dirt.
He rolled, baring his fangs.
I caught his wrist, twisted sharply, and felt bone give with a wet crack. He screamed. I didn’t stop.
I drove my elbow into his throat, crushing the sound from his lungs, then slammed his head into the ground.
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The impact ended it.
His body went slack beneath me, eyes glassy, chest still.
Dead.
I rose slowly, chest heaving, blood on my hands that wasn’t mine alone. The forest had gone eerily
quiet again, broken only by distant sounds of struggle to my left.
I turned and sprinted.
Cole had the last attacker pinned to the ground, his knee planted firmly between the man’s shoulder blades, one arm wrenched back at an angle that promised pain.
The attacker was alive.
Breathing hard. Terrified.
“Three,” Cole said grimly, without looking up. “This one thought he could outrun me.”
I looked around quickly, counting bodies through scent and sight.
Two dead near the tree line.
One at my feet.
That left-
I scanned the shadows.
No movement.
“Where are the others?” I demanded.
The man under Cole laughed–a broken, hysterical sound. “Doesn’t matter.”
That was the wrong answer.
I stepped closer, crouching so he could see my face clearly. So he could understand exactly who was kneeling in front of him.
“Talk,” I said calmly. Too calmly. “Now.”
He swallowed hard, eyes darting between Cole and me. He knew. He could feel it–that thin edge where mercy stopped existing.
“If you kill me,” he rasped, “you’ll never see Helen Blackwell again.”
The world narrowed.
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The forest, the bodies, the pain in my side–everything faded until there was only that sentence echoing in my skull.
Something feral tore loose inside my chest.
I reached for him.
Cole reacted instantly, shifting his weight, gripping tighter. “Alexander.”
I ignored him.
“You say that again,” I growled, “and I will end you so slowly you’ll beg for death long before it
comes.”
The man smiled through the fear, teeth red with blood. “That’s the point. You need me.”
I did.
And I hated him for it.
My hands shook with the effort it took not to tear his throat out.
Instead, I grabbed his arm.
There was a split second where he realized what I was about to do–where his eyes widened, panic flooding in too late.
Then I twisted… not a clean break.
I applied pressure slowly, deliberately, turning the joint past its natural limit until bone snapped and shredded through muscle. The scream that followed was raw and animal, echoing through the trees as his body convulsed beneath Cole’s hold.
Even a werewolf wouldn’t heal from that easily.
I leaned down close to his face as he cried, gasping, broken.
“You don’t get to bargain,” I said quietly. “You don’t get leverage.”
His sobs turned wet and desperate.
“You are going to lead me to Helen Blackwell,” I continued. “Every step, every turn, every door.”
I tightened my grip just enough to remind him of the pain.
“And if you lie,” I finished, eyes burning into his, “you’ll wish I had killed you.”
I straightened, meeting Cole’s gaze.