Seperation Saga

All I could smell in Marriott's lobby was expensive coffee and air freshener. I sat in a corner chair where I could watch the entrances, wrapping my hand tightly around my third cup of caffeine and trying to make sense of Morrison's genealogy records. 

The connections were there. Subtle, but there.

Beyond being the elders who had pressured Kieran three years ago, Davidson and Morrison were connected through bloodlines that went back five generations. Descended from the same alpha line, they are both part of a network of families that had controlled pack politics in the Pacific Northwest for over a century. 

My phone buzzed. Kieran: On my way up. 

I'd given him my phone number because the hotel lobby felt too public for the conversation we intended to have. We should be careful of places with too many ears and eyes.  But now, sitting on my bed with files spread around me like a paper fortress, I was regretting that decision.

The knock came exactly ten minutes later. Three sharp raps, then silence.

I opened the door and immediately regretted it.

He'd changed clothes since this morning. Gone was the rumpled shirt and jeans from the crime scene. Now he wore dark slacks and a gray button-down that brought out the green in his eyes. His hair was still messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, but it worked for him. It always had.

"Come in," I said, stepping back.

He entered my space carefully, like he was walking through a minefield. Which, I supposed, he was. The room suddenly felt smaller with him in it.

His eyes went to the papers scattered across my bed. "You found something."

"Yeah." I gestured to the files. "Morrison and Davidson were cousins. Third cousins, but still blood."

"I know that. Most of the pack elders are related somehow."

I heaved a deep sigh. "It's not just that they're related." I picked up a genealogy chart I'd sketched out. "Look at this pattern. Both descended from Alpha Magnus Thornfield, who led the Cascade Pack in the 1890s."

Kieran moved closer to see the chart. Close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat from his body. I forced myself to focus on the papers.

"Magnus was known for his traditional views on pack hierarchy," I continued. "Believed in pure bloodlines, strict gender roles, and alpha supremacy. Sound familiar?"

"You think someone's targeting descendants of Magnus?"

"I think someone's targeting people who represent what Magnus stood for." I pulled out another file. "I cross-referenced the genealogy records with pack voting records from three years ago. Every elder who pushed for our... for the rejection... they all trace back to the same bloodline."

The word 'rejection' hung between us like a loaded gun. Kieran's jaw tightened.

"Aria, about that..."

"Don't." I held up a hand, cutting him off. "I told you. I'm not here for closure."

"But I need to..."

"You need to look at this." I thrust another paper at him. "Morrison's personal calendar. Look at the entry from last week."

He took the paper, scanning it. His face went pale. "Meeting with Elder Blackthorne. Private discussion about pack security."

"Keep reading."

"'Discussed the Blackwood situation. Agreed on necessary measures.'" He looked up at me. "What situation? What measures?"

A chill ran down my spine. "I don't know. But I'm betting it has something to do with me being back."

Before Kieran could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "Marcus."

"Speaker," I said.

He answered and put it on speaker. "Marcus, we're both here."

"Good. We have a problem. I just got word of an attempted attack on Elder Whitmore. Same MO as the others, but this time the intended victim survived."

My blood ran cold. Whitmore. Another elder who'd been vocal about my rejection.

"Is he talking?" I asked.

"He's in surgery. But before he went under, he said something interesting. He said his attacker knew details about pack politics that only an insider would know."

Kieran and I looked at each other. "What kind of details?" he asked.

"Private conversations. Voting records. Financial arrangements between packs." Marcus's voice was grim. "Whoever this is, they have access to information that should be confidential."

"We'll be right there," Kieran said.

"Actually, there's something else. The attack happened at Whitmore's cabin. It's on Crescent Moon territory."

The implication hit me like a truck. The killer was operating on Kieran's land. Getting past the pack security. Someone with inside knowledge.

After Marcus hung up, Kieran and I stood in silence for a moment. The weight of what we were dealing with settled over us like a heavy blanket.

"It's someone in your pack," I said finally.

"We don't know that for sure."

"Don't we?" I started gathering the files. "Someone who knows pack politics intimately. Someone who can move freely on your territory. Someone who has access to genealogy records and voting histories."

"There are other explanations."

"Name one."

He couldn't. Because we both knew the truth, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I need to get to the hospital," he said.

"I'm coming with you."

"Aria..."

"Don't even think about it." I shoved the files into my bag. "If the killer is someone from your pack, then you need someone watching your back. Someone you can trust."

"And that's you?"

The question stung more than it should have. "Professionally? Yeah. It is."

We left the hotel in tense silence. Kieran drove while I studied the files, looking for connections we might have missed. The genetics were clear; all the victims were connected. But the motive was still murky.

"Can I ask you something?" Kieran said as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

I raised my eyes to meet his. "Depends on what it is."

"Why did you really come back?"

I deepened the intensity of my gaze. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there three years ago. Gray threading through his dark hair.  The burden of leadership had taken its toll on him. 

"Marcus asked me to," I said.

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" I asked, trying to remain calm and pretending as if I wasn't running out of breath.

"You could have sent someone else. Your reputation is good enough that you could have recommended another hunter, and Marcus would have accepted it. But you came yourself."

I stared out the windshield at the hospital entrance. Ambulances are coming and going. People rushed to save lives while others mourned the ones they couldn't save.

"Maybe I wanted to see if you'd gotten what you deserved," I said finally.

"And? Have I?"

I thought about his pack's hostility. The political marriage had failed. The murders targeted people connected to his past decisions. The exhaustion in his eyes. Maybe he had. 

"I don't know yet."We got out of the truck and headed toward the hospital. But before we reached the entrance, Kieran grabbed my arm.

"Aria, wait."

I turned back to him, and for a moment we were just two people in a parking lot. Not alpha and hunter. Not past lovers with unfinished business. Just two people trying to figure out how to be in the same space without destroying each other.

"Whatever happens in there," he said, "whatever we find out about who's doing this... I need you to know that I never stopped..."

"Don't." The word came out harsher than I intended. "Don't say things you can't take back."

"Maybe I don't want to take them back."

"And maybe I'm not ready to hear them."

We stared at each other across three years of hurt and regret. I could see the boy I'd fallen in love with in his green eyes. The man who'd made me believe in forever before teaching me that forever was a lie.

"The job, Kieran," I said quietly. "That's all this can be."

He nodded, but I could see the pain in his face. Good. Let him hurt. Let him feel a fraction of what I'd felt when he'd chosen pack politics over our bond.

We walked into the hospital, maintaining professional distance. But I could feel the tension between us like a live wire. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

Ready to spark at any moment.

The ICU was on the third floor. We took the elevator in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. When the doors opened, I saw Marcus waiting for us in the hallway.

"How is he?" Kieran asked.

"Stable. The doctors say he'll recover, but it was close." Marcus led us toward Whitmore's room. "He was lucky. The neighbor heard the commotion and called it in. Patrol units were there within minutes."

"Did they see anything?"

"Tracks leading away from the cabin. Someone running through the woods. They lost the trail at the main road."

We stopped outside Whitmore's room. Through the window, I could see the elder hooked up to machines, his face pale and drawn.

"What exactly did he say?" I asked.

Marcus pulled out a small notebook. "Quote: 'He knew about the vote. About the money. About what we did to the girl.' End quote."

Kieran went very still beside me. "What money?"

Marcus looked between us. "I was hoping you could tell me."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. "What money, Kieran?"

"I don't know." But there was something in his voice. Uncertainty. Like maybe he did know, or suspected.

"Kieran." My voice was low, dangerous. "What. Money."

He looked at me, and I saw the exact moment he decided to tell me the truth.

"Three years ago, when the elders were pressuring me to reject you, some of them mentioned financial incentives. Alliances with other packs that would be beneficial if I married within traditional bloodlines."

The world tilted. "You're telling me they paid you to reject me?"

"No. I'm telling you they offered to pay me. I never took the money."

"But you knew about it."

"Yes."

The betrayal hit me like a physical blow. Bad enough that he'd rejected me for being weak. But to know there had been money involved? That my worth had been calculated against financial gain?

"Aria..."

I turned and walked away. Down the hall, past the nurses' station, toward the exit. I needed air. I needed space. I needed to be anywhere but here.

"Aria, wait!"

His footsteps followed me, but I didn't stop. Not until I was outside the hospital, gulping down cold air and trying not to vomit.

"Let me explain...."

"Explain what?" I spun to face him. "Explain how you knew they were treating me like a commodity, and you never told me? Explain how you let me think it was just about strength when it was really about money?"

"It wasn't about money for me."

"But it was about money for them. And you knew it."

He didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it.

"I was young," he said finally. "And stupid. And scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of choosing wrong. Of leading the pack into financial ruin because I loved someone they thought was inappropriate."

The word 'loved' hung between us. Past tense. Like it was something that used to be true but wasn't anymore.

"Well," I said, my voice deadly calm, "looks like you chose wrong anyway."

Before he could respond, my phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: You're getting close. Stop looking, or more will die.

I showed Kieran the message. His face went white.

"We need to get back inside," he said.

"Why?"

"Because whoever sent this knows we're here. Knows we're getting close to the truth." He looked around the parking lot, scanning for threats. "And if they're willing to threaten you directly, then Whitmore isn't safe."

We ran back into the hospital, taking the stairs two at a time. But when we reached the ICU, chaos had already erupted.

Alarms were blaring. Nurses were running toward Whitmore's room.

We were too late.

Through the window, I could see the machine's flatlining. Whitmore was dead, and our best lead was gone with him.

But whoever killed him had made a mistake. They'd acted in desperation, in fear of what he might tell us.

Which meant we were closer than they wanted us to be.

And that made them dangerous for us.