Bled For the Wrong Alpha

Facing My Murderers

AIRA’S POV

Three days.

That was how long I stayed inside.

Ellen’s messages came every morning without fail. Lena knocked twice a day, calling my name softly each time. I didn’t answer either of them. I couldn’t. Not yet. Looking at their faces and performing the girl they expected me to be required a kind of strength I was still building back up from scratch.

I needed those three days. Not to heal. To think.

By the third night, I had made up my mind. If I wanted answers I had to move. Hiding in my room wasn’t going to tell me why they did it or what they were still planning. Only getting close would do that.

I picked a simple outfit the next morning, styled my hair, and picked up the letter from where I had tossed it on my desk. I stared at it. A simple folded piece of paper that had started everything the first time. I picked it up, smoothed the edges, and tucked it under my arm.

I could do this.

I headed downstairs and found them exactly where I expected. Ellen and Lena were side by side in the sitting room, laughing about something. They both looked up when they heard my footsteps.

Ellen was on her feet before I hit the last step. She crossed the room and pulled me into a hug before I could say a word.

“Finally,” she said squeezing tight. “How are you feeling? You had me so worried.”

She pulled back and pressed her hand to my forehead, checking for fever. I let her. I kept my face soft and tired, letting her read what she needed to.

“I’m better,” I said softly.

Lena appeared at Ellen’s shoulder, grinning. “She wasn’t sick. I’m sure she developed cold feet.”

Then Lena left Elena and grabbed my hand, tugging it softly. “You have to act fast, Sis. The girls aren’t taking it easy. I heard he’s been receiving letters.”

“Those desperate girls,” I said, visibly annoyed, just like the old Aira would be. “Do you know where he is?” I asked.

Ellen’s eyes lit up. “I knew a little fever couldn’t stop that love.” She grabbed my hand and pulled.“Come on before he leaves his quarters.”

We walked the familiar path and I let Ellen talk. She filled the silence the way she always did, bright and warm. I used to find comfort in that voice. Now I just listened for what it wasn’t saying.

When we turned the corner and his quarters came into view, I saw the small group gathered outside and my steps almost faltered.

Vance.

He was standing slightly apart from the rest of them, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, looking at nothing in particular. Something moved through me the moment I saw him.

I slowed.

Ellen felt it immediately. She turned to look at me, eyes soft, misreading everything. “Hey. Don’t chicken out now. You’ve come this far.”

I looked at her. Then I looked back at Vance. Then Shawn laughed loudly.

Shawn and Vance in the same space. My letter was for one of them and my future depended on the other, and right now they were standing less than ten feet apart.

I could turn back. I could tell Ellen I wasn’t ready, buy myself more time, come back on a day when Vance wasn’t standing right there watching with those eyes that missed absolutely nothing.

But turning back meant losing all the momentum I had spent three days building.

I breathed in slowly and walked forward, keeping my gaze off Vance.

“Shawn,” Ellen called out cheerfully. The group looked up. Shawn’s eyes moved from Ellen to me and he sat up slightly. His friends murmured among themselves.

I could feel Vance’s eyes without looking at him, but I focused on Shawn.

“I wrote something for you,” I said to Shawn. I held out the letter, my hand steady, my expression doing everything it needed to do.

His friends erupted. One of them whooped. Shawn took the letter without hurry, opened it, and scanned maybe three lines with the bored expression of someone who already knew what it was going to say.

Then he folded it.

And kept it.

My mind went completely blank.

In my past life, he had torn it right there in front of everyone. That was what was supposed to happen. The public rejection, the humiliation, the moment that was meant to push me toward chasing him harder.

He hadn’t torn it.

I didn’t understand that yet but I locked it away to think about later.

He stood and stepped closer to me. I backed away instinctively. This wasn’t part of the script. His eyes moved slowly over my face, then, with a soft smile, he stepped back and walked away.

One by one the group drifted. I stood there with my mouth slightly open, feeling the sting of rejection, while inside I was completely steady.

Ellen appeared at my side. “Don’t worry,” she said linking her arm through mine. “You just have to try harder. These things take time.”

She kept talking on the walk back. I nodded in the right places and kept walking. Inside, my thoughts were still in turmoil.

Then halfway to my house, Ellen stopped.

“I need to check on something at home quickly,” she said already turning. “I’ll come by later.”

She was gone before I finished blinking.

I stood there and watched her go. Just as I turned the other way, something shifted in my gut. Every instinct I had was pointing in the direction she had just walked and I had learned in my last life what happened when I ignored that feeling.

So I followed her.

She wasn’t at home, nor was she in the pack bar owned by her parents. I checked both quickly and doubled back, thinking, retracing. Then it came to me all at once.

The lake house.

Shawn’s lake house. The place he had never once taken me in our entire time together, no matter how much I begged. In my past life, I had found them there eventually. Too late to matter then. But I still remembered the path.

I found it by the light of the lanterns. I slowed my steps as I got closer, pressing my feet down softly, keeping to the shadow at the edge of the trees. The closer I got the more certain I became. Then a voice. A very familiar one.

Shawn’s voice.

My heart jumped hard against my ribs. A few more words and I would have something real.

I pressed myself against the wall beside the door and I went completely still.

Then, suddenly, I heard it. They said my name.

I leaned in and pressed my ear flat against the wood.

“Do you think she…” the voice trailed off and paused.

The door swung open.

I pitched forward into the light and a hand shot out and caught me hard by the arm before I hit the ground. I grabbed onto whoever it was to steady myself and looked up with Shawn’s name already halfway up my throat.

The name died there.

Vance looked down at me, his expression completely still, his grip firm around my arm. Behind him, framed in the warm light of the lake house, Ellen stood with her hand covering her mouth.

The air left my lungs.

Not Shawn. Vance.

Vance was inside that room. With Ellen. In Shawn’s private lake house. At night.

I had spent my whole second chance convinced I knew exactly what had happened in my past life. I had been so certain. I had memorized every face, every betrayal, every move they had made against me.

But Vance had never been part of that picture.

Not once.

My eyes moved slowly from Ellen’s frozen face back up to Vance. He was still watching me, unreadable as always, his hand still holding my arm like he hadn’t decided yet whether to help me or not.

What else had I missed?