All Chapters of THE ALPHA’S GHOST: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

KAYE'S POVThe cabin smelled like staled coffee signifying it's being there for longIt felt lived in. Not abandoned. Not staged. A fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, and the furniture showed wear in the way of long use rather than decoration. Whoever Subject Zero was, she had been here for a while.She closed the door behind me gently.Not locked.That detail mattered more than I wanted it to.“You are shaking,” she said softly.“I am standing in a room with the woman who looks exactly like me and claims to be my mother,” I replied. “I think shaking is reasonable.”A corner of her mouth lifted. Not a smile. Something heavier.“I am forty eight,” she said. “I look thirty because the pathogen stops cellular aging in subjects who survive full integration.”My chest tightened. “So you are living proof it works.”“Yes,” she said. “And proof of the cost.”She gestured for me to sit. I did not. I needed my legs under me, needed the option to run even if I would not use it.“I was dyi

KAYE'S POVThe explosion came without warning.One moment I was standing across from Subject Zero, my head spinning with truths I was not ready to carry, and the next the world shattered into heat and force. The cabin walls blew outward in a roar that stole the air from my lungs. Fire and splintered wood slammed into me, throwing my body across the room like I weighed nothing.I hit the floor hard.Pain flared through my side and head. My ears rang so loudly I could not hear my own scream. Smoke filled the cabin, thick and choking, turning the air into something I had to fight just to breathe.“Kaye,” Subject Zero shouted somewhere through the chaos.I tried to move. My limbs responded slowly, clumsy and wrong. My vision blurred as I pushed myself up on shaking arms. The fire crackled, pieces of the cabin collapsing inward as footsteps thundered closer.Not wolves I recognized.The door that still stood burst inward and figures poured through the smoke. They moved with practiced speed

KAYE'S POVI wake slowly, the way you do after a bad fall, when your body knows something is wrong before your mind can catch up.Nothing hurts.That is the first thing I notice, and it scares me more than pain ever could.I try to move my hands. They feel heavy, distant, like they belong to someone else. My fingers twitch, but that is all. My legs are worse. I cannot feel where they end. My chest rises and falls, but even breathing feels borrowed.The air smells clean. Too clean.I open my eyes.The walls around me are smooth and white, curving gently instead of meeting at corners. There are no seams. No bars. No door. The light does not come from a source I can see. It is just there, even and soft, with no shadows.A cell with no obvious escape.My heart stutters.I reach for my wolf.Nothing answers.Panic surges through me, sharp and sudden, but my body does not react the way it should. My pulse stays slow. My muscles do not tense. It is like fear is trapped behind glass.The supp

KAYE'S POVTime stops meaning anything in the cell.At first, I count hours by the rhythm of my breathing. Then by the faint pulses of light in the walls. Eventually even that slips away, and time becomes something loose and shapeless, like fog. Days pass. Or maybe only one. I cannot be sure.The suppression drug fades slowly, like poison draining from deep water.At first it is just sensation. Pins and needles in my fingers. A dull ache in my legs. The faint return of warmth under my skin where the silver veins used to glow. I flex my hands over and over, testing my grip, my strength, my balance.The cell does not react.The walls remain smooth and unbroken, curving gently like the inside of a shell. No seams. No cracks. No obvious weakness. When I press my palm against the surface, it pushes back with quiet force, not hard, but absolute.Still, I test it.Every day, I touch a different spot. I listen. I feel for vibration. I press harder when the suppression eases, softer when it re

KAYE'S POVSubject Zero sits with her back against the curved wall of her cell, knees drawn close, arms wrapped around herself like she is holding pieces together that want to fall apart.For a long time, neither of us speaks.The silence is heavy but not empty. It is filled with everything she has lived through and everything I am only beginning to understand.“They kept me here for decades,” she says finally. Her voice is calm, but it carries an exhaustion so deep it feels ancient. “Different facilities. Different dimensions. Different names. But always the same hands.”I swallow. “Jon Tulip.”“And Theo,” she adds. “Jon was the scientist. Theo was the architect.”I sit on the floor, legs folded beneath me. My body feels stronger now, more awake. The suppression drug is weaker, fading like a bad dream that refuses to end completely.“They tried to breed you,” I say quietly.She nods once. “Hundreds of attempts. Artificial wombs. Genetic splicing. Enhanced donors. None of it worked. T