Page 9

Chapter Nine

A LARIC HELLS

Ethan came in handy after all. The kid got me all the hospital records dating back to a few decades ago.

The records are spread across the coffee table in my penthouse. I loosen the button on my collar, pouring myself a glass of scotch because it’s going to be a long night digging through this heap of papers and files.

“Scotch?” I ask Ethan, who’s settled into one of my couches.

“If you insist, boss.”

If I insist? I fucking smirk. The modesty of this kid is on a whole new level.

After the night we’re about to have, he’ll want a drink or two, and I’m not about to judge him for it.

Handing him a glass and settling down, I take a slow sip, letting the bitter liquid burn my throat and hoping it’ll dull the headache forming behind my eyes.

Then, I grab another handful of records from the pile.

“Alpha Chris brought her here a few times when she was a child. According to this, Irene had a rare illness. The healer who treated her called it Moonborne Syndrome. Apparently, it affects one in a million werewolves.”

I take another sip of my drink. The name is unfamiliar to me.

“Moonborne Syndrome?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s a rare werewolf condition affecting children of powerful bloodlines.

Since Irene was the only daughter of Alpha Chris, that would explain a lot.

Some of the symptoms include uncontrollable fevers under the full moon—dangerously high fevers that could lead to temporary memory loss, and a mild allergic reaction to certain foods like… nuts.”

My ears ring at that last word, and my thoughts instantly snap to the little girl with green eyes I left in a hospital bed, clutching the biggest teddy bear I’d ever seen.

Curiosity, or maybe something deeper, had me stopping by to see Dr. Well before I left, asking how Lina was doing.

The healer didn’t want to tell me anything, citing patient confidentiality and all that nonsense. But when I lied and told him I was Lina’s father, he let something slip.

Lina had had an allergic reaction to nuts.

Something I had already known.

But then he’d added another detail.

Lina had an unusual genetic protein marker in her blood. The healer said it wasn’t anything serious, but right now, as Ethan goes on about Moonborne Syndrome, I can’t help but think of the possibility that the little girl has it, too.

“Did Irene have a unique protein marker in her blood?”

I don’t believe in coincidences. And this? This is too fucking big to be one.

“Yes, boss. Actually, Irene’s first allergic reaction to nuts led to the discovery of the protein marker in her blood. That’s when she was diagnosed.”

Shit. The kid has it too.

I push thoughts of Lina away and focus on the records, scanning the dates, matching the timelines.

“The last time she was in the hospital was a few years ago. Look at the date, does it ring a bell? Look at the other records…the people who were admitted on the same day.”

Ethan catches on quickly. Almost immediately, he stiffens. “These…all of them are from the Moonlight pack. Says they were brought in after an attack by a rival pack. Irene must have been here too. It says she disappeared before they could check on her injuries.”

I look at the records again, my conclusion solidifying.

Alpha Chris and his pack were ambushed. They didn’t see it coming and had no time to retaliate. Many lost their lives. The survivors, including Irene, were brought here, to St. Bishop’s Hospital.

Irene escaped that same night. My guess? She was too frazzled to make sense of anything. Witnessing her entire pack nearly wiped out would have done that to her.

Alpha Chris died a few weeks later, imploring the Blackwood Pack’s Alpha to find his missing daughter.

Ethan exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. “I’m sorry, boss. Getting her records, her pack’s records, I thought…I thought we’d find something.”

His voice is tight, frustration laced with guilt. Ethan hates letting me down. He takes failure personally, even when it isn’t his burden to bear.

My wolf isn’t in the least bit disappointed.

Not when his mind keeps drifting back to a little girl dressed in pink, a stubborn glint in her green eyes.

“And we did find something,” I tell him. “There are no records of her death, Ethan. Irene is out there. For all we know, she might be in this city. This is the evidence we need to keep looking.”

Ethan nods, but his disappointment lingers.

“You’re right, boss. I’m gonna take my leave. Thanks for the drink.”

I tip my chin at him as he walks out.

Two minutes later, I’m alone in the living room, Irene’s records in one hand, my glass of scotch in the other.

The alcohol might be getting to my brain, but the connection between Lina and Irene lingers, settling deep in my gut.

Could they be…related?

My wolf hums in satisfaction, as if he already knows the answer.

As if I’m just catching up.

I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office, my eyes skimming over the Phoenix city skyline. The skyscrapers gleam under the morning sun, their glass silhouettes reflecting the golden light.

I barely slept. Saying I got even an hour of rest would be an overstatement.

I spent the night drowning in records, obsessing over Irene. Over Lina. Over the fact that they share the same rare condition. The pieces of the puzzle are scattered, but the more I look, the more I start to see the bigger picture—one I might not be ready for.

My desk is cluttered with contracts and deals that need my attention, but my mind is elsewhere. And yet, even with the chaos in my head, I hear her heels clicking against the marble floors outside my door before she knocks.

“Sir, may I come in?”

Her voice is a breath of fresh air.

The damn “sir” grates on my nerves, chipping away at something in my chest. But I swallow down my irritation, clear my throat, and answer, “Come in.”

Taking one last glance at the city, the city that might hide Irene, I turn in time to come face to face with my secretary.

Lila.

Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, sleek and perfect. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about how those silk-soft curls once felt between my fingers.

She’s dressed for business in a crisp white shirt, a black skirt hugging every curve. Unfortunately for her, that skirt makes me think about anything but business.

My gaze drags upward, shamelessly tracing her body.

Lila notices. Her lashes flutter, and she covers her surprise with a small cough.

“You have a scheduled call with Mr. Shipp from Shipman Industries. I figured you’d need the full report before bringing them on board?”

She’s acting professional.

Too fucking professional.

Her lips move, but my mind is elsewhere. On her sharp cheekbones. That dainty nose. Those green eyes that burn brighter than anything I’ve ever seen.

Then, it clicks.

Lina.

The resemblance is undeniable. The same eyes. The same lips. The same little expressions—like the way Lila scrunches her nose when she’s thinking. Just like Lina did.

A slow, steady thud of realization pounds in my chest.

Before I know what I’m doing, I step forward, invading her space.

She blinks, confused, but doesn’t back away.

My fingers brush under her chin, tilting her head up, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“Boss?” Her voice wavers.

Her chin trembles beneath my fingers.

Maybe I’m losing my fucking mind, but all those suspicions about Lina looking like Lila dissolve as soon as I lean in, inhaling the scent of her neck.

Jasmine. And something sweeter. Something uniquely her.

My mouth waters. My body gravitates toward her, helpless against the pull.

Every thought in my mind turns to putty as I wrap my hand gently around her neck, my thumb pressing lightly over her pulse.

Goddess, she smells divine.

“A–Alaric,” she moans my name, and that’s all it takes.

The bond between us snaps tight, like a wire pulled to its breaking point. It begs to be fed.

One second, I’m trying to stay away. The next, I’m giving in.

Fuck.

I kiss my secretary.

And it’s not just a kiss…it’s a claiming.

I hold her like she’s the most important thing in my world, prying her lips open, growling when her taste fills my mouth. My hands slide to her waist, my fingers sinking into her warm skin.

Lila freezes at first.

But then—fuck, she responds.

Just as needy. Just as hungry. Just as desperate, like she’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.

Like she’s been craving it.

Like she belongs to me.

And then…

“Boss, regarding the upcoming banquet—”

A voice that is neither mine nor Lila’s cuts through the haze.

The moment shatters.

Lila jerks away like she’s been burned. Like my touch itself is a sin she was just caught committing.

I turn to the doorway, rage simmering beneath my skin.

Ethan.

Of all the fucking times.

“I-I, uhm, knocked. I didn’t think you had company, otherwise I wouldn’t—”

“What is it?” My voice is sharp, barely in check.

Lila takes a step back, stiff, avoiding my eyes.

She wants to run. I can feel it in the way she shifts on her feet, but she doesn’t move. One, because Ethan is standing in the doorway. And two, because she’s too rattled.

Too embarrassed.

I can almost hear her thoughts. She hates herself for kissing me. She hates me even more for starting it.

But didn’t she kiss me back?

Ethan glances at Lila before turning to me, brow raised in quiet curiosity. But thankfully, he doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he gets to the point.

“The pack’s banquet has been scheduled for next week. You need to choose a female plus-one.”

Lila pales.

The color drains from her face so fast that I almost reach for her.

I have a choice.

I could say it right now. I could declare her as my plus-one, show her that she’s the only one on my mind every second of every fucking day.

But admitting that means acknowledging that my ironclad control is slipping. That she’s unraveling me in ways I can’t afford.

So instead, I force myself to look at Ethan and say the words that taste like ash in my mouth.

“Choose a woman for me.”

Silence lingers.

Ethan nods.

Lila doesn’t say a word.

And something inside me cracks.

Because it’s a lie.

She’s the only choice.

The only one I want.

And yet, I let her slip away.

Again.