Kneel, Alpha: She's Not Forgiving You Yet

Chapter 2:

UNKNOWN MAN

The man's neck snapped beneath my hands before I realised I'd moved. One second, he had her pinned against the wall. Next, he was crumpling to the floor.

Silence swallowed the room.

Pain vibrated through my ribs, sharp enough to steal my breath. Warm blood soaked through the fresh bandages wrapped around my side, but somehow it felt less important than the body lying at my feet.

I looked at my hands. I had killed him without thinking, as though my body had simply known how. Across the room, she stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.

"I won't hurt you," I said.

"Y-you just killed someone."

She kept watching me, trying to decide what kind of man stood in front of her. Then she asked the simplest question imaginable.

"Who are you?"

I opened my mouth. "My name is..."

Nothing. The harder I searched, the emptier my head became.

"I don't know."

Her expression shifted from fear to disbelief.

"You don't remember your own name?"

I shook my head.

"Anything?"

"No."

For a long moment she simply stared at me. Finally she sighed, her body relaxing just a bit.

"I can't keep calling you 'stranger.'" She studied me for another second. “Fine. I can’t keep calling you ‘mysterious injured stranger,’ so until you remember who you are, I’m calling you Ash.”

"Ash?"

She shrugged without saying anything. Then she picked up her medical kit.

"Sit," she said, and I found myself obeying her. "You've opened your stitches again." She peeled away the ruined bandages with careful hands. "You really couldn’t kill him less aggressively?”

“I was busy,” I frowned. “And you’re welcome for the rescue.”

She cleaned the wound in silence before stitching it closed again.

“You were trained medically?” I asked.

She paused briefly before continuing again. “Used to be.”

I didn't go further to ask, so I let the conversation end there.

Her eyes drifted to the body.

"You know how to handle this?" I asked.

She laughed softly. “Turns out anatomy becomes very useful in unexpected situations.”

“You should rest,” she said while pulling on her coat. “And stay here.”

“You’re going alone?”

She looked back toward me. “Unless your memory suddenly returns with a shovel and several fake identities, yes.”

She disappeared into the snow before I could argue.

****

Hours later she returned looking exhausted. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment with her eyes closed.

"It's done."

I didn't ask what she'd done with the body, some questions didn't need answers.

She looked at me. "You're healing."

"I think so."

"Fair enough." She dropped into the chair opposite mine. "When you're strong enough... you should leave."

I wasn't sure why those words bothered me. I barely knew this woman, I didn't even know myself, yet the thought of walking away felt... wrong.

Before either of us could speak again, someone knocked on the door.

"Wren? You in there?"

She sighed in relief and I guessed whoever was on the other side of the door was someone she knew.

"Kara." She opened the door to reveal an older woman wrapped in thick winter coats.

"You're late on rent," the woman said without greeting.

"Nice to see you too."

"Morning stopped being good forty years ago."

For the first time since I'd woken in that apartment, Wren smiled.

The woman stepped inside and finally noticed me. Her eyes moved between us before one eyebrow rose.

"Well... about damn time."

Wren groaned. "It's not what you think."

"It never is." She smirked before turning back to Wren. "That supervisor of yours won't bother you now he thinks you've got company."

I frowned. Supervisor?

Before Wren could say anything, the woman's notebook slipped from her fingers. She swayed, about to fall to the ground. But Wren was too fast to catch her.

"Kara!"

Wren pressed a hand against the woman's forehead before checking her pulse.

Her face drained of colour. "No..."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Silver Fever."

The words meant nothing to me, but the fear in Wren's voice said everything.

"She needs medicine," Wren whispered. "And I need to get it as soon as possible."

She stood so fast the chair scraped across the floor.

"Do you know where to get them?" I asked, a bit worried than I expected myself to be.

"I know where to get it."

I stood up. "Then I'm coming."

She snapped her eyes at me. "No."

I frowned. “You don’t know what’s waiting there.”

“And I definitely don’t need anyone realizing I’m hiding a Rogue in my apartment,” she shot back while pulling on my gloves. “The fewer people who know about you, the better.”

She grabbed a pistol from beneath the sink and slid it into her coat.

"Stay with Kara."

Without waiting for another argument, she walked out into the storm.

The room felt unbearably quiet after she left. Kara's fever worsened with every passing minute. I kept changing the cloth on her forehead for what felt like hours.

I waited, listened for footsteps that would tell me that she had returned, but I got nothing.

She should have been back by now, I told myself.

"She told you to stay." Kara's weak voice stopped me as I reached for my coat.

"She said a lot of things."

A tired laugh escaped her. "You're going anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes." I don't have a choice.

"I knew it," she said, her voice low. "You'll fit into her life terribly."

Somehow, that sounded right.

The black market was easier to find than it should have been. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes furrowed at the sight of the chaos before me, and at the center of it all stood Wren.

“The doctor who poisoned the Pack.”

“She killed them.”

“She should’ve died in the pits with the rest.”

Wren stood perfectly still despite the accusations. Her face remained calm, though she looked cornered.

When one of the wolves moved toward her, everything inside me reacted instantly.

The first man crashed into a table. The second lost the knife in his hand before it buried itself in his shoulder. The warehouse was in chaos.

They kept coming, and I kept putting them down. Only one thought remained clear inside my head: no one touches her.

Wren stepped between me and the crowd before I could reach the next man.

"Enough."

"Move," I growled.

"No." She looked back at me. "If you keep breaking people, nobody's giving us the medicine."

The anger inside me receded just enough, so I stepped back. When the warehouse fell silent, Wren faced the office at the rear.

"I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge."

The man they called Briggs had a silver wound festering across his shoulder.

Wren treated it without hesitation. By the time she finished, even the wolves who had wanted her dead were watching in silence.

"You really were a doctor," one of them murmured.

"I still am."

Briggs rolled his shoulder carefully before nodding. "Give her the medicine."

A sealed case was placed into Wren's hands. She let out a breath she'd been holding. Before we left, Briggs stopped her.

"The market needs a healer."

Wren looked at him. “What are the terms?” She asked.

Briggs shrugged. “Recurring arrangement. You treat people when needed. In the end, you get paid.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

By the time we reached the apartment, Kara's fever had become frightening. Wren worked quickly, preparing the medicine before giving her the first dose.

Within the hour, the fever finally began to break.

"She'll live," Wren whispered, her shoulders relaxing in relief.

She sank into the chair opposite mine, looking more exhausted than I'd ever seen her.

I watched her quietly.

She had risked everything for the woman who'd shown her a little kindness. She had saved a room full of people who hated her, she had even saved me.

After everything I'd done today, she hadn't looked at me like a monster.

"Are you not afraid of me?" I asked.

She frowned. "What?"

I lowered my eyes briefly before looking back at her. "I killed a lot of people today."