The ringing in his ears was deafening—drowning out the buffering of the fan overhead and the soft chirping of birds outside heralding the morning. It was high-pitched and long-winded, his eyes watering and blurred as he stared down at his hands. He could no longer make out the shape of the phone caught in his grip, the screen gone black with the call long ended. Surely he was trembling—he must be—but he couldn’t be sure. Not with the way his head was pounding, that incessant sound like a fly buzzing deep in his ear—banging on his eardrum. Sabrina had woken him from his slumber. She was somewhere on the East coast where the sun had already risen and wasn't hidden behind the moon as it was now in San Francisco. He’d thought he’d heard her wrong, had begged her to repeat herself once, twice, three times before it finally clicked. He still didn’t believe it.
“Rose and Jade,” she’d said again, as if the names meant anything to him—and after a bated breath and long moment, they did, “They’re missing. They have been for nearly a year. The Harper's and other hunters have been searching for them and I don’t know how they found me, but I guess Rose had left my name somewhere in one of her old journals and—Jensen if they’re desperate enough to reach out to me, a
werewolf, I—”
“Yeah,” he’d interrupted, running his palm down his drowsy face and blinking slowly. The bed beside him was cold, the sheets still tucked and undisturbed. He hadn’t seen Iris in two years. The weekend before their wedding, she’d sat him down and admitted that Jasper had sought her out. He wished he didn’t recognize the name, that his back hadn't gone stiff and his hands hadn't knotted into each other as she continued to detail that she’d been drunk—and when she started with that, he knew where the conversation was headed. He didn’t remember what she’d said. His eyes had been trained on her ear, vision foggy as he caught the key words. Slept with him. Accident. Still loved Jensen.
Please. He hadn’t gotten married and she’d moved back home, leaving him in the house they’d built. She was a ghost in his peripheral, her rosy perfume lingering on every breath. His eyes were on her pillow as he spoke, fingers blindly tugging at a loose string on the duvet. “Yeah, but why would they reach out to
you?” He asked, desperately trying to wake up enough to grasp the severity of the situation.
“They were in Texas, Jen. When the girls went missing, they were in Texas.”
He didn’t hear anything after that. Her voice was swallowed up by the ring-ring-ringing in his ears.
🔺🔻🔺
The air was suffocating as he stepped out of the airport and onto the sweltering tarmac. A humid swirl of dense heat burnt his lungs with each inhale, his eyes watering as the sun’s bright rays stung the blue-green of his irises. Jensen hasn’t been in Texas since he was six years old, nearly twenty-three years ago now. He wiped haphazardly at his face, cleaning off the accumulated sweat from his brow as he scanned the line of cars waiting for their passengers. He’d caught the first flight out. Sabrina and Blake had been at the airport when they called—leaving behind their two kids in the care of Addie, who was all grown up now. He hadn’t seen either of them in longer than he’d like to admit. He’d always claim he was too busy—school and work and wedding planning—but the truth was that he couldn’t stomach seeing them. Not after Ashton had torn them apart. Not after Jensen
let him do that, unable to do his one job and keep his cousin in line. He tried to distance himself from his pack, a lone omega playing human in a world of hustle and bustle. No breaks. No chance to relax. He had preferred that, he liked to keep the thoughts at bay. No idle hands. No wandering eyes.
He clutched at the straps of the bag hanging over his shoulders, having only packed the few essentials in his rush. Jensen didn’t know what to expect, but he felt that familiar responsibility for his family burning in his chest and knew he had no choice but to come. What could he do, really? What did they expect him to do? Expose the Pines Sanctuary because there’s a chance Ashton has been up to something nefarious and put hundreds of docile wolves at risk? Confront his cousin and hope that this was all just a misunderstanding? He didn’t know if he could do either. He’d had a moment of bravery ten years ago, cutting ties with Ashton after he’d torn those poor girls’ family apart, but he didn’t know if he could do it again.
“Hey,” a deep, somber voice called out and Jensen startled, looking up-up-up to meet the somewhat familiar face of an older Samuel Styles, “Thanks for coming, Jensen. We could really use your help.” It took him a moment to find his voice, studying the new scars and age-lines that had marred his old mentor’s face. They’d teamed up before to take down the rogue pack that had hunted in Beacon Hills, but something felt different this time.
“It’s no problem,” he forced out, his smile not meeting his eyes as Sam’s gaze roamed over him once. He’s bulked up, muscles bulging under the pale t-shirt he’d pulled on this morning—having spent the last two years frequenting the gym in an effort to keep Iris off his mind. It didn’t always work. His hair was longer, well-kept and tucked into a bun at the base of his skull—sporting a short beard, trimmed neatly. Jensen had always had a sophisticated aura to him, a mature and paternal sense that had been bred out of neglect and need for survival. He squared his shoulders back, following Sam towards his parked SUV after the man had nodded for Jensen to walk with him. “Sabrina had sounded really upset and that’s odd for her, so I didn’t really have much of a choice,” he sighed, eyes on his feet as he trotted just behind Sam, “And if what you guys are thinking is right, then it’s my responsibility to handle this.”
“That’s not true,” Sam was quick to counter as they reached the car, waiting for Jensen to settle into the passenger seat before continuing, “Just because he’s family, that doesn’t make this your fault. We don’t even know if it’s him either, Jensen.”
“But still. If it is, I can’t pretend I didn’t play some role in this,” Jensen stressed, looking at Sam as he drove the car out of the airport parking lot and towards the highway, “I’ve avoided him for ten years, Sam. Maybe something happened and he needed me and I wasn’t there. Maybe that caused him to do something rash.”
“Jensen,” Sam said sadly, sparing him a short look before merging into traffic and pressing on the gas, “You can’t think like that. You aren’t him. These are his own actions if they even
are his actions. You’re just here for an extra set of eyes until we know for sure.”
Jensen nodded then, eyes cast out the window as the scenery blurred past. They weren’t going to agree on this so he asked instead, “Can you give me the rundown? What do you know so far?”
Sam was reluctant to let the topic go, not wanting Jensen to shoulder blame that wasn't his to carry, but he relented—knowing that they would never see eye to eye on the matter.
“Early last year we started picking up news of people being killed by what seemed to be rabid wildlife. At first we thought nothing of it, given the location and frequency of such events in the past, but then a pattern arose. Four or five people—all in varying ages, gender, and race—would be slaughtered at a time in towns miles apart. The claw marks and bite wounds were all different, so we began to suspect a pack was migrating through central Texas, but it didn’t make sense. The only other pack that had put on this kind of display was Clayton’s. He had a motive and wanted to scare people, so we figured that was something similar. It wasn’t until after Jade and Rose went missing that we put together that this wasn’t a fear tactic, but a call. Someone was trying to cause a big enough scene that we would call in all of our resources,” Sam paused then, a guilty look passing over his features as his fingers flexed on the steering wheel, “The killings didn’t stop after they were taken, but they have slowed down. They branch out in a circle around the Richardson area, which is why we’ve reached out to you guys. I hate to say it, but there’s a clear motive and given the location—it’s hard not to pin it on Ashton.”
Silence haunted the car for a few beats, Sam cutting looks to Jensen anxiously while the younger’s eyes stayed curtly trained out the window. It was a lot to take in, but he couldn’t find a fault in the hunter’s thinking.
“What about Erin?” He prompted, turning towards Sam then and the hunter stilled, “Ashton had been with Erin last any of us heard. He wouldn’t do anything like this if he had her.”
“Jensen,” Sam hesitated, stalling as he pursed his lips in search of the right words, “We did some digging and found—God, I’m sorry, we found an obituary in Colorado for Erin Pines,” and that stung. He hadn’t been ready to hear that. Jensen hadn’t liked what she’d done, how she’d gone behind her sister’s back and stolen Ashton right from under her, but he didn’t think she deserved to be dead. “And for an Ivy Pines,” Sam had said in a near whisper, eyes haphazardly on Jensen as he drove, “A five year old. Both killed in a car accident. The sole survivor was Ashton Pines.”
Ashton had a daughter—had
had a daughter. He had married Erin. Jensen had no idea. He felt blindsided at the news and at their loss.
“The accident was just before the killings began. The man who hit them was let out on bail and later found mauled to death by rabid dogs,” Sam finished, looking a little green when Jensen finally was able to look his way. That, god, that all makes sense. That shoehorns Ashton as the perfect suspect, but why had it taken them so long to put together? He couldn’t find the words, knowing that it wouldn’t have been their first thought to pin the missing women
and the dozens of murders on a high-school ex boyfriend. It must not have been until they reached out to Sabrina based on her loose connection to Rose that the idea even struck them. The only hunter who would have known Ashton had been from Texas was Jade and she must not have spared that information before she was taken. Fuck.
Fuck. He didn’t know what to do, emotions welling up in his chest and the sharp sting of iron whispering into his nose alerted him to the half-moons his claws had left on his palms. He looked at the wounds in disbelief, already stitching themselves back together. When was the last time he’d lost control of his wolf?
Had he ever?
“I know it’s a lot to take in, Jensen,” Sam comforted, exiting the highway and turning on an old dirt road that led to the hunters’ base, “So take your time processing, but we will need your help. You’re the only one who knows where he could be—”
“The Pines Pack has over one hundred wolves,” he said suddenly, the thought dawning on him and Sam’s face went white, “Assuming that most stayed with him, he’s almost untouchable, Sam.” Not just in numbers of soldiers, but in the power that gave an alpha. There was no winning this battle.
Jensen’s hands clenched and unclenched in his lap as he thought, watching the camp come into sight as he rushed out, “It’ll have to be me. No hunters. Just me—maybe Sabrina and Blake. Anyone else, and it’ll be a war we won’t win, but maybe we can sneak on and—God, I don’t know, but he won’t expect anything from me.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Jensen,” Sam started, shaking his head as he parked, “And we can’t send you in without back-up.”
“No one else can get that close to him, Sam, and if this is just a misunderstanding, I can’t trust you guys knowing where the sanctuary is. Nothing personal, but I won’t put innocent lives at risk—”
“
If they’re innocent,” Sam countered, flustered under the weight of this new information, “And if they really have that many, Jensen, going in alone is not an option.”
“I’m not going to budge on this, Sam. Those are my people—my
family. I have an aunt and uncle and cousins there too. I’m not going to let hunters I don’t know on my family’s property. And I won’t need back up either. I can handle Ashton. I always have. He’s my responsibility.”
Sam clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes on Jensen before submitting to the wrath in his gaze with a shallow nod. “Fine. I don’t like it, but fine. Let’s go debrief the others and get this plan in motion.”
🔺🔻🔺
The gravel crunched under his feet, each step down the winding driveway led him closer to the Pines Sanctuary—to a war he wasn’t sure he was able to win. Blake was oddly silent behind him, eyes far away as he looked off into the distance studying the soft sway of the elm trees that lined the path. A careful palm on Jensen’s shoulder startled him and the apology in Sabrina’s gaze when he looked back never found her voice.
“You don’t have to do this,” she spoke quietly, the words fragile on the plush of her lips. It was just the three of them. Despite Sam’s insistence and Natalia’s threats, Jensen held strong and refused to disclose the exact location of the Sanctuary. He knew it was foolish to hold out hope, to pray that this was just a misunderstanding, but he had to. He had to cling to that sliver of light, but he was not blind to the oppressing darkness that loomed around this situation. Ashton was guilty. There was too much evidence, too many coincidences. But maybe he could be saved. Maybe Jensen could bring Ashton back to sanity and save what’s left of the boy he’d grown up with.
Sabrina and Blake followed Jensen to the Sanctuary. Neither had ever been, and Jensen was torn now about them joining him. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want them involved in his fight either.
He sighed, shaking his head as he looked forward. The gate was coming into sight—and just beyond it he could see a sprinkling of betas approaching. Their footfalls had been heavy, purposefully alerting the pack of their arrival. “I’m the only one who can,” his tone was defeated, but his eyes shone with determination.
The blurry shapes of his pack came into focus. Faces he didn’t recognize lined along the gate that divided sanctuary from humanity. He smoothed his palms over the stiff fabric of his cargo shorts, his gaze bouncing across the betas—trying to seek out a familiar face as they came to a stop. His lips parted, an introduction on the tip of his tongue when an acidic, dark scent burnt his nose. Blake recoiled and Sabrina growled. Jensen was left speechless as his eyes roamed across the scarred face of, “Murphy.” It was a whisper, a breathy drop of his name as the boy he’d once known pushed his way up to the front. He was taller now, bulkier in a way no one thought he could ever be. Jensen couldn’t keep his eyes off of the marred line that cut across Murphy’s face, the shock a bitter scent that had the beta rolling his eyes.
“Don’t act so fucking surprised,” Murphy spat, arms crossed over his chest and chin tilted high in defiance, “Like she didn’t brag to you the moment she did it.” Jensen’s brows furrowed then, but he couldn’t turn towards Sabrina despite how desperately he wanted to read her face. He didn’t want to turn his back on Murphy. He didn’t want to give him the chance to strike.
“I should have killed you for what you did,” Sabrina hissed, the heat of her body scorching as she pressed up against Jensen’s side. It was then that Blake finally snapped out of his daze—coming to life at the sound of his wife’s snarl. His careful hands pulled her back against his chest, but his eyes remained downcast. He’d been quiet since his arrival in Texas, a distant look in those coffee-caramel eyes as he’d listened to the long-winded plans of how to handle this hunt. Blake felt guilty. He never voiced it, but his stench was rancid. He chose Sabrina over his alpha—over his
best friends. He left Ashton and Murphy behind for the life he’d always dreamed of. For the girl he had always dreamed of. He didn’t want to be here. He didn't want to face them, but he’d never let Sabrina do this alone.
“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” Murphy droned, rolling his eyes before settling them on Blake, “Like you and your traitor fucking lap dog could lay a finger on me now.” Jensen didn’t know what happened between them, but it didn’t matter now. As long as he could smooth things over enough to get them inside, the plan could move forward. Murphy looked back at him then, frown deep and harrowing as the sarcasm dripped from the pointed fangs he flaunted, “But it would be just like you,
dad, to try to bring everyone back together. What is this? Little late for a reunion, don't you think? We don’t fucking need you. So why don't you turn your ass around and get the hell of our land.” The betas at his back bristled, snapping their teeth and flashing their claws.
That last shred of hope was severed in two at the malice these once docile wolves showed. Sam was right. The hunters were right. This wasn’t his pack. This wasn’t his home. What had Ashton done?
Jensen scuffed his sneaker on the ground, dragging it in a half-moon to the right. It was a signal, something that Sam had insisted they had.
“Murphy,” Jensen barked, drawing the betas attention back to him, ”We’re here for Ashton.” His voice masked the shuttering click of Blake’s finger as it tapped the side button on his phone three times—sending out an SOS to the hunters he’d had wait a few miles away from the Sanctuary. There was no saving the family he once knew here and as he glanced beyond Murphy and his goons, he knew they’d need more than just themselves.
The hunters would take thirty minutes to get here, plenty of time for Jensen to find Ashton and confront him head on before chaos ensued.
“He’s not accepting visitors,” Murphy mused, a twisted sense of pleasure plastered upon his face at denying Jensen this.
“I don’t care. I have something he needs to hear,” his voice was pleading, too sincere to be a lie.
“Tell me then,” the shorter man demanded, stepping closer—the gate biting into his waist as he leaned forward.
“No,” Jensen’s voice was blunt. Sabrina smirked behind him and Blake only held her closer. Fear oozed from him in a sickly sour aroma. Murphy caught it, tilting his head curiously as he eyed his former friend. Jensen stepped into his view, inching closer and towering over his cousin’s right hand man. “I talk to Ashton or you’re all fucked because I’m not telling
you a damn thing,” he growled, heat rising in his chest as he domineered over Murphy.
Murphy didn’t cower, instead eyeing Jensen appreciatively as he let out a low whistle and grinned wolfishly. “Damn, look who finally grew some balls,” he chuckled—it wasn’t a nice sound, “Daddy Jenny cursing? Must be something important, huh?” He was mocking him. Jensen’s frown deepened. Murphy seemed to mull over his options before raising his hand and waving his entourage off. “Scatter. I’ll take them to Alpha.”
Jensen didn’t deflate with relief until after Murphy turned around, shooting his friends a cautious look before they followed after him.
It was all a part of the plan.
He was careful to not let his eyes wander as they trekked to his aunt and uncle’s house. He couldn’t bear to see how it’s changed—how it’s stayed the same. He kept his eyes trained on the back of Murphy’s head, ears tuned into the shifting and whispering around him. He wanted to let his head droop with shame, to hide away from the prying stares of the pack he used to be a part of, but he had to feign confidence and strength. Shoulders rounded and pushed back, he took in a deep breath as they stepped up the porch steps and came to a stop at a familiar door.
Murphy didn’t open it. Always perched on Ashton’s lap, he waited obediently to be welcomed in.
A chill ran down Jensen’s spine at the smooth tenor of Ashton’s voice as it rang out from deep within the home, that familiar Texan hum heavy in his words. “Bring ‘em in,” he called, and either he’d heard the commotion or someone had informed him. Jensen spared one last look over his shoulder at his friends. Blake looked truly petrified and he smelled the same—Jensen’s nose twitched at the sharp scent as his eyes cut to Sabrina’s determined mask. She gave nothing away, prepared to slaughter the whole pack if needed.
Murphy turned the handle with ease, and Jensen was floored by how everything in the home seemed to be the same as when he was a child. He fought to keep the shock off his face, lips pressed tightly together and hands uneasy at his sides as Murphy led them to the living room.
Out of everything Jensen could have guessed, he was not prepared for the sight that welcomed him. His stomach churned—twisting and twirling in on itself as he fought down bile. Sabrina reached out, hand grasping his elbow and clinging as she shook with what he could smell was rage. Blake was frozen, cowered behind Jensen as he let out a small whimper.
Ashton was sat in his father’s old rocking chair, the creaking of the old wood echoing in the terse silence that had settled over the living room. His eyes were frosted over—a cold glare that dared any of his previous pack members to misspeak. In his arms, cooing softly as they shifted in their slumber, was an infant. A soft blue onesie swaddled the baby, leaving Jensen inclined to believe it was a baby boy. A baby. A
newborn. Jensen swallowed thickly, the knot in his throat swelling as he trembled in place. Sam was right.
Ashton was the bad guy and Jensen didn’t know what to do.
“Long time,” Ashton finally hummed, shattering the silence and releasing everyone from their frozen state. Murphy moved to stand just behind the rocking chair, keeping his eyes trained on his old friends—ready to pounce. Jensen’s shoulders sagged. Blake meekly reached out for Sabrina and pulled her against his side.
Jensen cleared his throat, taking a single step forward, but not another as Murphy’s low warning growl simmered in the air. “Been awhile, yeah,” his voice was stiff and Ashton smirked. Cocky bastard loved making him uncomfortable. He fed off of the power he had over the three of them. No longer their alpha, but always in control.
“Suppose you’re not here to catch up, right?” Ashton mused around a grin—a twist of his lips so dark and unnerving that Jensen shifted back, “Can’t imagine y’all give a fuck about me now, right?”
“Ashton,” Jensen whispered, saddened and scared and feeling so damn guilty. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t abandoned him. Ashton wouldn’t have become this monster if Jensen had done his job and been there for him.
“Cut the shit, Jenny. Don’t act like you care now,” Ashton hissed and the baby whimpered and curled closer to his chest. He readjusted his hold on his son, stroking his finger along the baby’s soft cheek before continuing in a much quieter voice, “And Bri here isn’t exactly trying to hide how she feels.” Jensen felt Sabrina go stiff behind him, but she didn’t speak. They had talked about this beforehand: if she was coming, she had to follow Jensen’s lead. She had too many emotions invested in this. She had cared for Jade and couldn’t stomach what Ashton had done to her back then. And Rose, she'd saved Sabrina in ways they couldn't grasp. She had too much heart in this to be allowed to speak freely. She'd jeopardize the whole mission with the dagger-like tip of her tongue.
“And you,” Ashton’s eyes shifted to Blake and Jensen tried his best to block the beta from view. He wished he wasn't here. Blake hadn't wanted to be anywhere near these two ever again. The beta couldn’t stomach facing Ashton, he couldn’t lift his eyes from where they settled—gazed locked on where his hands held tightly onto Sabrina’s. “You fucking traitor. Didn’t think you’d have the balls to come ‘round me again,” there was heat in his tone. It was sweltering. Their falling out had nearly ended in blows, with Ashton lunging for Blake and the beta ready to take the beating, but Jensen had stepped in. It had been his final straw. It had been where he drew the line in the sand.
The things that Ashton had said, the things he insinuated. It had been unforgivable.
“Stop,” Jensen interrupted, coming to Blake’s defense again, “You know why we’re here, Ashton.” His eyes dropped down to the baby without meaning to and the alpha’s smile flattened into a deep frown.
“Course I do,” he deadpanned, tightening his hold on his son and Murphy stepped forward an inch—ready to fight, “Always were so damn smart, Jenny. Knew it was only a matter of time before you’d somehow find out.”
“Hunters are coming,” he whispered and Sabrina and Blake tensed behind him. This wasn’t part of the plan. Jensen wasn’t supposed to actually warn them, but Ashton was holding a
baby. They needed more time. Jade could be here. Rose could too. He needed just a little longer. Ashton’s eyes had widened just enough to betray his cool demeanor, nodding towards Murphy who pulled out his phone and began typing. “If you hand them over, it won’t end in a bloodbath,” Jensen pleaded, but Ashton only looked away. His gaze lingered on the window, staring out at something that Jensen couldn’t see.
“Can’t do that,” he sighed, seemingly forlorn but Jensen had a hard time believing Ashton felt bad about
anything anymore, “ ‘sides, it’s a losing battle for them.” And Jensen knew that. He’d told Sam that. The hunters would never defeat the Pines Pack.
Sabrina was vibrating with rage in Blake’s hold and Jensen shifted so he was blocking the both of them better. Ashton had admitted to it. He had the girls. Dead or alive, he had them. He knew what Jensen had meant and he felt sick. He was going to lose the meager lunch he’d forced down on his dead aunt’s favorite rug.
“Where the fuck are they?” Sabrina’s voice cut out, eyes livid where they peered around Jensen’s left side. Ashton met her gaze then, leveling it upon what little he could see. He didn’t rise to her bait. Instead looking towards his cousin and waiting until
he asked.
“Ashton, please,” Jensen begged, losing all semblance of cool that he'd had as he watched Ashton stand—gently rocking the baby as he whined at the movement, “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Ask, Jensen,” Ashton demanded with an eerie calm and Murphy tucked his phone away and stepped closer to the group, “I want to hear you say it. Accuse me.”
And Jensen didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see what was so blatantly obvious.
His voice betrayed his wishes and he asked, “What did you do to them?”
“Not ‘where are they’?” Ashton quizzed, eyebrow arched as he stepped closer—just out of arm’s length, “You really think I did something to them?”
He did. Jensen’s eyes batted between his cousin’s and he knew without a doubt that something awful had happened to those girls. He prayed that at least Jade was okay. The baby—fuck—it had to be hers. Ashton wouldn’t have killed her. He wouldn’t.
“Ashton,” he prompted again, not sure of what he was going to say after, but the alpha interrupted him anyway.
“I lost everything, Jensen. My pack. My family. All I had was Erin and our baby and I lost them too. I don’t give a damn what you think about me. You don’t mean a fucking thing to me,” Ashton hissed and Jensen flinched—he hadn’t expected the truth to sting so much, “I needed Jade, so I did what I had to do. Rose was,” his eyes cut to Sabrina whose were now simmering with hope, “Collateral damage,” she writhed in Blake’s arms, crying out at the loss of her old friend, “Jade wasn’t a good girl so Murphy gutted the little hunter to teach our girl a lesson.” The wailing and cursing flowing from Sabrina made Jensen turn then, placing a hand on Blake’s arm and pushing them towards the doorway. Blake understood, dragging a fighting Sabrina towards the front door so Jensen could end this on his own.
Ashton watched them go with a meek smile, nodding towards Murphy as he hummed, “Keep an eye on ‘em.” The beta was happy to obey orders, trotting along after the pair—likely ready to raise more hell, bound to torment Sabrina with the gritty details. Jensen stayed still, knowing his battle was here.
He hated it all the same.
“And Jade?” Jensen forced out, stomach acid burning at the back of his throat as he fought to keep the bile down. He’d known Rose well. Iris’ best friend. His stomach twisted tighter.
Ashton looked away, back out the window and Jensen couldn’t hold back his curiosity. He stepped closer to his cousin and peered out the paned glass.
A small white cross was tucked deep into the ground, heading a large mound of dirt. A grave. Jensen’s face went white.
“She fought the whole time,” Ashton said softly, a melancholy hum to his words—lost, sad, “Tried to kill my boy, you know?” He looked down at his son, smiling at the last bit of family he had, “I thought she would come back to me after she got pregnant. I thought we could be a family. I was going to give her the world, and she just,” he paused, raising his eyes to his cousin’s and Jensen’s blood ran cold at the malice that had made home in those emerald forests, “Couldn’t get on board. After Aaron was born,” and Jensen reeled at the name, at a complete loss upon hearing Ashton’s dead wife’s moniker used to address the baby boy. It was disgusting. It was sick. Jensen’s face was a shade of green just too light to match the color of the alpha’s verdant eyes. Ashton only continued, eyes cast towards the makeshift grave once more, “She wouldn’t stop. She kept trying to leave and kept trying to hurt us—her family, Jensen. She–I,” his turned to Jensen then, a hint of desperation in his voice—almost as if he was begging Jensen to understand, but his face didn’t convey that, “You have to know I didn’t want to kill her, but she gave me no choice, Jenny. I wouldn’t let her hurt my boy. I ain’t got no one else.” His shoulders drooped just slightly, holding onto Aaron just a little tighter as his gaze batted between his older cousin’s.
Jensen was at a loss. His lips parted and closed—parted and closed, parted and closed. He floundered, not sure where to begin, not sure he heard right.
Ashton was a monster.
He had taken Rose and Jade. He’d killed Rose in front of Jade. He’d
raped Jade. Forced the girl to carry his child, trapped her in a life she hadn’t wanted and expected her to cave—and when she didn’t, he killed her. Not Murphy. Ashton. His own hands slaughtered the mother of the baby he held so closely.
“Ashton,” he choked out, fumbling for the right words, eyes welling with tears and hands trembling, “Ashton, what the fuck?”
And that wasn’t the right thing to say.
His cousin’s face hardened, eyes gone cold and teeth pressed so tightly together that Jensen could hear them creaking. Ashton stepped forward, but Jensen didn’t cower. He couldn’t. He was frozen still, eyes looking up at the alpha as he came within reach.
“And here I really thought you’d get it,” Ashton simpered, a ghost of tears on his lash line—that simmering of hope withering in his gaze, “You’d always been the one who got me, Jensen. I really thought you’d be on my side.” And if Jensen wasn’t so disgusted, wasn’t so completely nauseous with what he’d learned, maybe he would have held some sympathy but he
couldn’t.
“You know I can’t be,” he whispered, knowing that this was it—this is where the fight began.
Ashton opened his mouth to speak, lips lifted in a snarl and body shaking but before the words could find him, a commotion was heard north of them. Towards the fence, he realized.
The hunters were here.
“What the hell,” Ashton started, distracted as he turned slightly towards the noise and without thought—without hesitation—Jensen’s hand plunged forward.
It was as if it had a mind of his own. Jensen couldn't say what compelled it to move, couldn't fathom why on earth his claws had sharpened and dug deep into his cousin's flesh.
He never thought the day would come where he took a life. Jensen had always prided himself on being level-headed, on using his words and wit before violence. He never thought he’d know what it felt like to hold someone’s heart in the palm of his hand, the heat of it as it trembled and beat violently. The living room was eerily still, Ashton’s eyes dropping to where Jensen’s wrist was buried in his chest before blinking up to meet Jensen’s teary face.
“I’m so sorry,” Jensen whimpered, squeezing his cousin’s heart while his other hand reached up to pry the baby from Ashton’s hands.
“Should’ve known it would be you,” Ashton choked out, blood splattered on his plump lips as Jensen tugged both the baby and his heart from his chest. His cousin stumbled on his feet, holding onto his last bit of life as he cursed, “Take care of my fucking boy, Jenny.”
“I will,” Jensen cried, falling to his knees as Ashton dropped to the floor, “You know I will.” He prayed his cousin heard him, begged whoever was listening that Ashton died knowing that Aaron would be okay. That Jensen wouldn’t let anyone lay a finger on the baby boy held close to his chest. The heart fell from his hand, a silent sound as the chaos around him echoed in his ears.
Why did he do that? Why did he—
how could he?
Ashton was dead, eyes staring unseeing at his father’s rocking chair, blood draining on his mother’s rug. Ashton was dead and Jensen had killed him.
Ashton was dead and Jensen was alpha.
It didn’t feel real. Even as he sat crouched there, staring at Ashton’s body, he couldn’t begin to process it. Aaron shifted in his arms, still asleep—having not the slightest clue that he was an orphan, that he was being cradled by his father’s killer.
Jensen couldn’t wrap his head around it.
His hand was red-red-red when he looked down at it and with a sudden burst of realization, he scrambled back from Ashton’s limp form and rubbed his palm desperately on his shorts. It wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t get rid of it.
He’d never be clean again.
Why did he do that? How could he kill his cousin? Ashton was his family. He was his friend. He was Jensen’s responsibility and he took his life.
He was spiraling. Gasping for air and crying out loud and Aaron startled in his hold—joining in on his wails. That noise, that desperate whine: Jensen may have never shaken from his stupor if the infant hadn’t began sobbing with him—he'd have never moved if those cries hadn’t clued the three betas on the porch in to the chaos within the home. Jensen stumbled to his feet, shushing the baby as Murphy appeared in the doorway. He was seething, eyes wild and heart racing as he looked between bloody Jensen and motionless Ashton.
“What did you
do?” Murphy roared, lunging at Jensen—not caring about the baby, blinded by rage. Blake was just barely quicker, latching onto Murphy’s wrist and yanking him back. Caught off balance, the scarred beta plummeted to the floor. Jensen watched in horror, eyes round and wet and hopeless. Blake pinned Murphy to the ground, twisting his arm behind his back but his eyes couldn’t leave Ashton’s body.
“How could you?” Murphy continued to accuse, squirming restlessly in Blake’s hold, “You fucking asshole! He was your cousin! Our Alpha! You killed him! Holy fuck—he’s,” the beta choked on his words, a sparkle to his eye that betrayed him. Murphy didn’t cry, but there were tears dripping down his cheeks now. Ashton had been his life. He’d devoted everything to his alpha.
“Jensen,” Sabrina’s voice was quivering, her hands shaking as she cautiously stepped forward. Aaron was soothed now, lulled back to sleep by Jensen’s trembling—snoozing softly despite Murphy’s cries. “Hey, Jenny. Look at me,” and he did, whimpering and sniffling, “What happened?” No accusation in her tone, but it felt like a slap all the same.
“He—I,” Jensen choked on his words, blinking his eyes rapidly and they flashed red. The emotions were getting the better of him, the new surge of power causing his control to slip. Sabrina faltered, taking a step back at the sight. “He killed Jade and he was—I had to. You have to understand, I had to then or we’d never get the chance. We’d never beat them. He was,” he stuttered, blubbering and wet and lost, “He was gone. That wasn’t Ashton.”
Jensen couldn't grasp what he'd done. Ashton hadn't hurt him, hadn't even laid a hand on him and Jensen had killed him. But Ashton
had hurt others. He'd
killed others. Jade and Rose and who knows how many else. He had to. What choice did he have? He
had to.
Blake’s hold on Murphy went lax as the severity of the situation finally settled upon him, and in that brief moment of weakness, Murphy sprung from his hold and rushed towards Jensen and Sabrina. He didn’t think, didn’t see anything but a threat hurtling towards his wife and he snapped. For the first time since they’d landed in Texas, Blake came alive. His nails sprouted from the tips of his fingers, reaching towards Murphy, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Murphy’s nails dug deep into the meat of Sabrina’s back, sinking into her flesh and her piercing cry tore at Blake’s heart.
“No!” He cried, but Murphy didn’t stop. Sabrina fell forward, into Jensen who stumbled back with the weight. She clung to the new alpha and the beta turned on them, bloodied nails brandished as he prepared for another attack.
But Blake was done being weak. He was no alpha, but he saw red—a burning crimson blurring his gaze and a roar rumbling deep in his chest.
His hand snagged around Murphy’s throat, lifting him from the ground and Murphy’s nails clawed desperately at Blake’s wrist. He dragged him away from his family, and Murphy tried to fight the hold—spitting threats and kicking his feet. Murphy was ripping his wrist to stringy shreds, but Blake did not falter. “Don’t make me do this,” Blake warned, tightening his grip and Murphy spat down on him, his grin mangled and wolfish.
“You’re a fucking pussy, Blake. You aren’t going to do shit,” Murphy hissed, shaking like a rabid dog—trying to dislodge himself, trying to catch his breath as Blake squeezed tighter, “You’re gonna let me go and I’m going to gut your bitch and then that fucking traitor. I’ll save you for last. Maybe I’ll let you live cause I know you’ll make a nice toy, huh? Sabrina gone and Ashton dead—I’ll be your new alpha. So drop me, fucker. Let me kill her.” Each word was nastier than the last, spraying saliva and swinging his legs as the air drained from him.
He didn’t get another word out.
A sickening snap echoed in the room.
Murphy went limp in his hold, neck twisted around Blake’s palm.
The room was silent after that. Sabrina’s eyes round with horror and Jensen’s mouth slack. Blake loosened his hold and Murphy’s body dropped to the floor with a sickening slap of flesh on hardwood.
“It’s like you said,” Blake grit out, face stone and voice hollow, “I had to.”
And they did. What fucking choice did they have?
Sabrina took slow steps to Blake, already healing but still dripping blood—adding her paint to the mosaic of scarlet on the floor. She fell into his chest, and he was slow to wrap his arms around her. Careful, cautious, worried. When Jensen stepped forward, Blake pulled him and Aaron into his warmth as well.
If it weren’t for the rallying cries of hunters and fiendish howls of wolves, Jensen thinks they would have stayed like that forever. Their friends, their family fallen at their feet—their blood on their hands. But there was a war outside that Jensen had the power to end.
And like hell was he going to let another life be lost.
The silence that he was met with when he stepped on that porch was deafening. The hunters and the werewolves went still at the sight of him. Aaron was swaddled in his arms, blood splattered on his baby blue onesie and across Jensen’s high cheekbones. Sabrina cradled her side, palm rusted over with her own blood and Blake’s cheeks were sparkled with a new dusting of maroon freckles.
The wolves and humans alike were frozen as Jensen’s vermillion eyes settled upon them.
“Enough,” he hollered, loud enough to be heard by all of the warring masses. Claws were re-sheathed and the hunters' weapons fell limp at their sides. “It’s over,” there was no waiver to his voice, no room for argument. Eyes danced around the crowd, studying one another before everyone finally began to move again. Hunters stepped back and werewolves escaped to their homes. They were all too stunned by this upheaval of their hierarchy to resist his domineering presence. They obeyed. Both humans and wolves bowed to his power, able to sense that if the fight continued, there would be more than hell to pay.
Sam approached the group on the porch as everyone else began to disperse. There was hope in his eyes and Natalia on his heels. Before the taller man could ask, Jensen shook his head.
“They’re both gone,” there was sympathy in his tone, saddened and tired. Sam’s eyes grew foggy and Natalia went still. Neither cried. They wouldn’t here. Sam nodded then, reaching out to pull Natalia to his side—the only sign of weakness either of them would show. “Jade is buried out back. I’ll have to ask about Rose,” he whispered, just barely able to say the words.
“And this is?” Sam asked around the lump in his throat—voice hoarse, but no one commented on it.
“Aaron,” everyone froze at the name, their first time hearing it evoking a similar reaction to his own, “Ashton’s son with Jade. He, um—”
“Yeah,” Sam interrupted, not letting him finish that because they all knew. The taller man shifted, eyeing Jensen more carefully as he broached, “And you’re—”
“Yeah,” it was Jensen’s turn to stop him short, eyes flashing red again to confirm Sam’s suspicions, “Didn't really have a choice.”
“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Sam said sincerely, guilt swallowing the hunter whole. He’d put the younger male in this position. He’d asked him to do the worst thing. The world was safer with Ashton gone, but at what cost to Jensen? To his friends? Sam never would be able to cope with this side of the hunt.
“I,” the new alpha starts, eyes cut to the side and lip quivering, “I told you it had to be me and it was. Just, just go. Please. I don’t know how long I can keep the truce with you guys here. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
Sam hesitated, taking a step back, but not leaving. “What about you?” He knew the answer. He didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m the alpha now,” Jensen’s voice sounded empty, it sounded tired, “I have to clean this up.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Sam offered, hesitant to leave him just yet.
“He won’t,” Sabrina spoke up then, eyes dark and heavy—a determination that was mirrored in Blake’s when Sam caught his gaze, “We’ve got him.” Blake stepped forward then, his hand heavy on Jensen’s shoulder as he pulled his friend to his side. Jensen leaned into him, allowing the beta to help shoulder his burden.
“Okay,” Sam sighed heavily, taking Natalia’s hand and nodding at the group, “We’ll be at base for another month or so. Tying up loose ends and all. Please,” his eyes caught Jensen’s, warm and sincere, “Don’t hesitate to call.”
Jensen only nodded, rocking Aaron gently as Sam herded the rest of the hunter’s off of the Sanctuary. The three sole survivors of the Beacon Hills branch of the Pines Pack stood on the porch to the Pines’ family home, watching as the pack shuffled around the grounds—eyeing their new alpha warily.
They knew reckoning was coming. Jensen was going to bring justice to those lost. He was going to punish these killers for their sins. He caught eyes with a familiar face, his stomach sinking as his Uncle Cole’s eyes flashed an icy blue. The eyes of a killer. Jensen wasn’t sure he knew how to cleanse his pack.
Aaron cooed in his arms, finally stirring from his nap—his floral green eyes blinking happily up at Jensen.
“What now?” Blake’s voice was felt more than heard, a rumble from where he was still pressed to Jensen’s side.
“Now,” Jensen started, eyes caught on Aaron’s, his finger grasped in the infant’s chubby palms, “Now we make things right.”
Blake hummed at his side, nodding as he took in the Sanctuary. Sabrina’s hand was warm on his elbow, eyes wet with unshed tears as she promised, “And you will. I can’t think of a better person than you to be Alpha, Jenny.”
His smile was small. It was shaky and trembling and pitiful, but it was there.
“Yeah,” he huffed, his laugh a breathy sound, “I hope you’re right.”
The afternoon sun sat proudly at the heart of the sky, the sweltering heat a harsh reminder of the battles still ahead of them.
In the glittering light, Jensen’s eyes sparkled like rubies.