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NINETY-TWO: We Have A Problem
publish date:
2026-03-19 23:59:29
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Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY-FIVE: Don't You Touch Him
I stare at him for another full minute.He doesn’t move. His sides rise and fall, the bandaging still clean and pale against all that black fur. The early light through the cabin’s one window cuts across the floor and lands just short of him, like even the sun is a little bit wary.You need to leave, I tell myself. Right now. Before he wakes up.But I grab the old wool blanket from the cot in the corner anyway and I spread it over him. As carefully as I can. He shifts once and I freeze, but he doesn’t wake.I back out of the cabin.Then I run.I run as far as I can* * *My father is already yelling before I get the door open.I slip into the kitchen, tie my hair back up from where it’d fallen loose, and get the pan on before he gets to the part of the yelling where he starts throwing things. Eggs. He likes his eggs over easy. If I break the yolk he makes me do it again. I’ve learned not to break the yolk.“Where were you?”“Out early.” I keep my back to him. “Sit down Sir, it’s
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY-FOUR: Trusting the Wrong Person
“Rafe,” I say.Dante doesn’t answer.Which is its own answer.I look in the side mirror. The second car is still there, two lengths behind us, keeping pace. Rafe behind the wheel, both hands visible, completely normal, completely calm.The way he’s been the entire time.“Tell me I’m wrong,” I say.Dante is quiet for a long moment. “You’re not wrong.”“Dante—”“The way Vera knew we were at the mall,” he says. Low. Controlled. Like he’s working through it in real time and not loving where it lands. “She had a photo within the hour. We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. Only Rafe knew.”“He could have had someone watching the house.”“The voicemail,” Dante says. “That night. It came three hours after we arrived at the mansion. Vera needed an inside location to send that fast. Someone told her the address the moment we pulled through the gate.”I think about Rafe at the mansion. First on the perimeter. First through the back door. First to say he’s back in the foyer while Vera was st
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY-THREE: The Old House
“Strangers,” Dante says.“A couple. Young. I think they have a cat.” I watch his face. “I’m sorry, did you want me to have kept the house I shared with the man I thought I’d accidentally killed?”He looks at me for a second. “Fair.”“Thank you.”“We’re still going.”“I know we are.”Daxton looks up from the couch. “Are we going on a road trip?”“Yes,” Dante says.“Can we stop for snacks?”“Daxton—” I start.“Yes,” Dante says.Daxton pumps his fist.I grab the wolf plushie off the cushion beside him and hand it over. “Shoes. Right feet this time.”He looks down. Looks back up. “I was testing you.”“Sure you were.”Rafe meets us at the car.He’s already heard — Dante called him on the way down Marcus’s stairs, two minutes, short sentences, the kind of conversation where both people already know the shape of the problem and just need to confirm the details. Now Rafe is leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed and the expression he wears when he’s about to say something Da
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY-TWO: We Have A Problem
Dante is already pulling on his shirt when I sit up.I grab the cardigan off the floor. Shove my arms through it. My brain is doing two things at once—filing away the fact that thirty seconds ago he looked at me with eight years of memory returned and said you stayed like it was the only thing that mattered, and also registering that Rafe does not do urgent without a reason.“Stay here,” Dante says.“You said that last night.”“And I meant it last night too.”“And I came downstairs anyway.” I stand up. “So we’ve established a pattern.”He looks at me. Full eye contact. And here is the thing about Dante with all his memories back — he is the same. The same warmth under the same control, the same look that lands somewhere behind my sternum. But there is a steadiness to him now that wasn’t there before. Something settled. Like a house that’s finished shifting and decided where it stands.“Fine,” he says. “Stay close.”We go downstairs.Rafe is in the kitchen. He has his phone in one hand
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY-ONE: The Name
The Name“Marcus,” he says.The mug tilts. I catch it. Barely.Marcus.My brother.Not biological—we never shared blood, only a foster home, three years of narrow bunk beds and shared cereal and the specific loyalty of two kids who decided to be family because no one else was doing it. Marcus, who called me every Sunday. Marcus, who came to my med school graduation with a hand-painted sign that said my sister the doctor in letters that bled in the rain because he made it the morning of. Marcus, who knew exactly which path I walked at night in that town because I told him, because I told him everything, because he was the one person I called when things got hard.Marcus, who knew Dante’s schedule too, because I mentioned it, because I was lonely and he was my person and I talked.I set the mug down.“You’re sure,” I say.“I remember a phone call,” Dante says. He’s watching me with the careful attention he gives things that matter. “Before. Before the forest. A man on the phone with Ver
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINETY: The Alpha Remembers
The door opens.She’s exactly what I expected and nothing like it.She’s tall in a dark coat, expensive, the kind that costs more than my first car. Dark hair pinned back with the precision of someone who doesn’t allow disorder near her. She’s beautiful and certain dangerous things are beautiful, clean lines, no warmth, the aesthetic of something that will hurt you without personalizing it.She looks at Dante first. They always look at Dante first.Then she looks at me.Then she looks at Daxton.And something moves through her expression so fast I almost miss it. Not surprise. She knew we were here, she’s known where we were for days. It’s something else. Something that looks, briefly, like miscalculation.“Vera,” Dante says.His voice has changed. Not louder. The opposite, actually, quieter than I’ve heard it, but the quiet has a different quality now, the kind that precedes very large sounds. He’s still half-shifted, eyes dark, something rolling off him that I feel in the back of my
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King TEN: Lucien
No.No fucking way.The second he opens his mouth, my throat closes.“Long time, Omega.”My knees buckle, but I don’t fall. Not yet. My spine locks though it’s been injected with cement, and I swear I can taste bile. His voice is the same. Maybe deeper. Age has gritted it out, but the rot beneath i
Last Updated : 2026-03-17Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIX: Taking a Bath
The bed creaks.At first, it’s just a twitch. A subtle, involuntary jerk of his arm, barely more than a breath shifting the sheet. But then the muscles in his neck tighten, the tendons bulge, and his chest heaves like he’s trying to crawl out of his own skin.Fuck.I drop the wet towel I’ve been ho
Last Updated : 2026-03-17Nursing the Murderer Alpha King NINE: Grocery Shopping
I never thought doing dishes would give me anxiety, but here I am, wrist-deep in suds, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to file a fucking police report.The sun spills across the sink as a golden crime scene tape. The air smells like pepper, eggs, and betrayal, and we just finished e
Last Updated : 2026-03-17Nursing the Murderer Alpha King THIRTY-SIX: Goodbye
My lungs are on fire. The gravel that cut into my feet outside the house has turned into sharp sticks and pine needles now, the forest is swallowing me whole. Every breath is a wheeze, ragged, my chest aching from the sprint. The moonlight barely cuts through the canopy, everything around me a blur
Last Updated : 2026-03-23
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