Kneel, Alpha: She's Not Forgiving You Yet

Chapter 4:

ASH

The man’s neck snapped beneath my hands before I even realized I had moved.

One second, he had her trapped against the wall with his hands on her body and the smell of alcohol pouring off him. The next, I was behind him. My fingers locked around his throat automatically, my body moving with a speed and precision that felt terrifyingly natural.

His body dropped heavily onto the floor at my feet. For a moment, I simply stood there staring down at him while pain exploded my ribs hard enough to blur my vision. The movement had reopened several wounds across my side. I could feel blood soaking through the fresh bandages beneath my shirt.

However, I was more concerned about how easily I had killed that man. Like my body had known exactly what to do before my mind caught up.

I looked down slowly at my own hands, half expecting to see myself shaking. But I wasn't. And somehow, I thought, whoever I had been before waking up half dead in the snow, violence clearly belonged to him. And strangely enough, it did not bother me the way it probably should have.

A sharp wave of pain forced me to brace myself against the wall before my legs gave out completely. My breathing increased immediately afterward. Blood dropped steadily down my side now, staining the floor.

Across the room, she still stood frozen against the wall. I had only known her for a few hours, but something inside me recognized her presence instinctively. Like I've known her longer than this. Even when she mentioned payment, I had told myself money was not a problem. I had no idea why I knew that. I had no memory attached to the feeling. But deep inside, there was this absolute confidence in me I couldn't just explain.

Aside from that, nothing else inside my head worked properly. Every time I tried to reach for a memory, it all dissolved into blankness before I could even hold onto it. I did not know my own name. I did not know where I came from or why someone left me bleeding in the snow.

But somehow, standing in her tiny apartment with a dead body between us, I knew one thing with absolute certainty... I did not want her to be afraid of me.

Her chest kept rising and falling heavily while she stared at the corpse on the floor. Then finally, slowly, her eyes lifted toward me, wearing a kind of fear that told me how terrified she was of me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You just killed someone.”

I looked back down at the body. “I know.”

I felt frustrated inside than I could ever feel guilty of. Because for some reason I wish I knew, I could remember exactly how to snap a man’s neck, but I could not remember my own damn name.

She kept staring at me carefully, I could almost see her thinking through possibilities in her head. Threat. Rogue. Killer. Maybe all three.

Then she finally asked, “Who are you?”

I opened my mouth immediately to reply, but found absolutely nothing. The answer should have been simple; after all, it's just a name, right? Instead, my entire mind went blank.

“My name is…” The words stopped halfway.

I frowned hard and searched deeper, trying to force something, anything.

“My name…” I tried again.

Still blank.

She stared at me for another long second before speaking carefully. “You don’t know?”

I dragged a hand across my face slowly. “No.”

****

WREN

I started to thank him. Because despite everything, Dale would have r***d me if Ash had not stepped in. Maybe worse. Men like Dale always became cruel once they realized nobody was coming to stop them.

But when I looked at the stranger's face properly, he did not look triumphant or angry or even shocked by what he had done. He looked lost, like the killing happened somewhere far away from him and he had only arrived afterward to witness the aftermath.

I had seen killers before, prison introduced me to plenty of them. Most of them carried rage around like trophies, while others enjoyed watching people fear. But this stranger looked like neither. If anything, he seemed disturbed by the emptiness in his own head more than the corpse on my floor.

I crossed my arms tightly and studied him for another moment. “You seriously don’t remember your name?”

“No.”

“Anything at all?”

He shook his head. “Nothing useful.”

I frowned. That could absolutely be a lie, but my instinct told me it was not. The frustration on his face looked genuine, so did the confusion every time he reached for a memory that refused to appear.

“That’s unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.

I looked toward the small heater near the window for a moment before speaking again. “Fine. I can’t keep calling you ‘mysterious injured stranger,’ so until you remember who you are, I’m calling you Ash.”

He blinked, shocked. I couldn't tell if he was surprised at the name, or surprised at the fact that I could possibly come up with one for him.

“Ash?”

I only shrugged, not saying a word.

Then I grabbed the medical kit again. “Well, Ash,” I muttered tiredly, “you managed to survive one night without dying. Congratulations.”

He watched me quietly while I moved closer. Up close, the damage looked bad again. Blood soaked through the fresh bandages across his ribs, and one of the deeper stitches had partially torn open from the force of the fight.

I pointed toward the bed. “Sit down before you bleed to death again.”

He obeyed without hesitation. And while he walked towards the bed, I just stared at him, unimpressed.

“You really couldn’t kill him less aggressively?” I asked, peeling away the ruined gauze.

Ash actually looked mildly offended by that. “I was busy,” he said. “And you’re welcome for the rescue.”

Despite everything happening tonight, a small laugh almost escaped me. Almost.

I cleaned the wound carefully while the room remained silent. Ash stayed still while I worked, which honestly surprised me. Most injured men tried to act invincible during treatment, but Ash simply sat there quietly and let me stitch him back together again.

“You were trained medically,” he said suddenly.

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

Something flickered across his expression, like he realized there was probably an ugly story attached to that answer.

I did not feel like discussing prison tonight.

Once I finished wrapping fresh bandages around his ribs, I finally stood back up and looked toward Dale’s body. I crossed my arms and stared down at the corpse silently for a moment. Honestly, the worst part was how quickly my brain already started organizing solutions. Cleanup. Take the body away. Clear off every evidence.

Apparently, prison and surgical training together created an incredibly concerning skill set.

Ash watched me carefully from the bed. “You know how to handle this?”

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

He stared at me with an unreadable expression.

“You should rest,” I told him while pulling on my coat. “And stay here.”

“You’re going alone?”

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

Something that almost resembled amusement flickered briefly across his face again, but I ignored it.

The next several hours passed in a blur, I was already exhausted by the end of it. Back in school, professors taught us how to detach emotionally in order to work efficiently. Turns out that training applied disturbingly well outside hospitals too.

By the time I was done, there was nothing left connecting Dale to my apartment. No blood, no evidence, and definitely no trace.

When I finally climbed the stairs back to my room, my entire body ached from cold and lack of sleep. I unlocked the apartment door slowly before stepping inside.

Ash looked up immediately from the chair near the heater. He was exactly where I left him, and that surprised me more than it should have.

I had expected him to run, especially the fact that he had killed a drunken man. But seeing him sit there so quietly in that chair with one arm resting across his ribs, I didn't know what to expect anymore.

I shut the door behind me and studied him carefully. I still remembered how fast he moved earlier. How easily he killed. One clean motion and Dale was dead before he even understood what happened.

Ash was dangerous, terrifyingly dangerous. And somehow, sitting there quietly in my tiny apartment, he looked completely calm again.

I did not want trouble, my life already contained enough of it. Once he healed, he needed to leave.

I dropped heavily into the chair across from him and rubbed tiredly at my face before finally looking up again.

“You’re well enough now,” I said quietly. “So you’ll be leaving?”