Chapter 43

Alexander

Pain surged through me before I could even open my eyes, sharp and unrelenting. It clawed its way from my head down to my ribs, each breath a jagged edge slicing through me.

Voices buzzed faintly in the background, muffled and distant. Then, like a crack of lightning splitting the darkness, I heard it—Sophia's voice.

"Alexander? Oh, thank God! Alexander, can you hear me?" Her voice was thick with emotion, but it wasn’t relief that struck me.

It was the faintest twinge of annoyance. Even in the fog of awakening, her tone carried that performative edge, a little too loud, a little too desperate. Had I heard that right?

My eyes fluttered open, the harsh hospital light stinging them immediately. Everything was blurred, but I made out her figure, slumped in the chair by my bed.

Her makeup was smudged, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, her flaming hair I had once found strunning was far too blinding— a messy bun atop her head. She looked wrecked, and I might have felt sorry for her if my mind hadn’t been elsewhere.

“Sophia,” I croaked, my throat dry as sandpaper. The word barely escaped, but her head shot up like a spring. She lunged forward, clasping my hand tightly.

“You’re awake,” she sobbed, her fingers trembling. “Oh, Alexander, I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you.”

“What happened?” My voice came out hoarse, but the question was clear enough. Memories danced at the edge of my mind—an the Wolfsbane, chaos, and then...nothing.

“You were injected,” she explained, her voice wavering. “You’ve been in a coma for days. Days, Alex. I—I stayed by your side the entire time. I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat…” Her words tumbled over each other, eachone feeling too loud against my ears. “I mean… you’re luck to even be alive. We managed to get you to the hospital quick enough.”

I blinked, trying to process her words. The fight. Flashes of claws and blood flicker red through my mind. Then, the memory that hit me hardest—Lauren. She had been there.

The last thing I remembered was her face, her voice calling out my name. My chest tightened, but it wasn’t from the physical pain.

“Lauren,” I rasped, cutting through Sophia’s monologue. “Where’s Lauren? Abigail. Are they safe?”

Sophia froze, her grip on my hand faltering. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—hurt, anger, maybe both. She quickly masked it with a trembling sigh, her hand pressing against her chest like she was holding herself together.

“Lauren?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Alex, you’ve been unconscious for days, and you’re asking about her?”

“Where is she?” I repeated, sharper this time. The effort made my head throb, but I didn’t care.

Sophia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She… she’s gone. She left, Alex. She didn’t care about your survival, not like I did. I stayed. She didn’t even…” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “She took Liam and left. She wasn’t even thankful for everything you’ve done, sacrificed for her.”

The words hit me like ice water, but not in the way I think she intended. My chest tightened, not with sorrow but with suspicion. It didn’t add up. Lauren wasn’t the type to walk away from someone in need, no matter how mad she was. It wasn’t in her nature.

I’d seen her love in the quiet moments, in the way she fought for others, me, even when I didn’t deserve it.

Sophia’s gaze darted away, and her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. She was lying. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. She always exaggerated, always twisted the narrative to suit her. But this… this was a step too far.

I’ve had enough.

“I need to see her,” I said, my voice firmer now. I tried to sit up, wincing as pain flared in my side.

“Alex, you can’t—”

“Sophia, I need to see her.” My tone brooked no argument. She hesitated, her lips parting as if to protest, but something in my expression must have stopped her.

She nodded reluctantly, stepping back as a nurse entered the room. I didn’t wait for approval or permission.

I was leaving.

Lauren

The knock at my door came just as I was settling Abigail into bed. My heart jumped, a reflexive spike of anxiety. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. Abigails’s soft snores filled the small room, a comfort I clung to as I made my way down the stairs to the door.

When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. For a mommet, I thought I was seeing things, have finally gone crazy.

“Alexander?”

He stood there, disheveled and wild-eyed. His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat, and his chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and a faint bruise marred his cheekbone. But it was his eyes that stopped me—stormy and intense, locking onto mine with a ferocity that made my knees weak.

“Lauren,” he said, his voice rough and breathless. “We need to—”

I couldn’t stop myself. My arms flew around his neck, pulling him into an embrace before he could finish. The scent of him—faintly familiar, warm, and grounding—hit me all at once. His breath left his lungs in a startled gasp as we nearly toppled onto the porch. Alexander barely caught our combined weight, his grunt soft but pained.

“Ah!” I pushed off him quickly, my hands fluttering as guilt washed over me. “Sorry! Are you okay? I just—”

Before I could finish, his arm slipped around my waist, steadying me and pulling me back to him. His other hand braced weakly against the doorframe, his body leaning into mine as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

His face dipped closer, and I felt him inhale through my hair, his breath deep and deliberate, like he was committing my scent to memory all over again.

My heart stuttered. I knew I’d hugged him first, desperate to feel that he was real, to know he was alive. But now, the longer he held me, the more those confusing, swirling emotions threatened to drown me.

The heat of his body, the way his fingers splayed possessively against my back—it was too much and not enough all at once.

I stepped back, breaking the moment but not the connection. My hand slipped into his instinctively, and I pulled him inside with me. He moved willingly, following until we were just inside the door. I let it close quietly behind us, the soft click of the latch echoing in the stillness.

But Alexander didn’t let go. He stayed close, his body looming over mine, his presence consuming. His hand remained at my waist, his eyes locked on mine with a burning intensity that made it hard to breathe. The wall pressed cool against my back, grounding me as he stood mere inches away, his gaze tracing every inch of my face like he was searching for answers—or maybe permission.

“Lauren,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with something that made my knees weak. “Please… we ned to talk.”

It seems like we always did, yet I’m not sure it’s ever solved anything.