Digging graves by car light in the late hours of the evening is not exactly the most fulfilling task. Harry offered to, being the only other viable choice according to the Old Ways. But ultimately, it was his Beta Lisa, who Victor took the mud-covered gauntlet. So here he was at two at night, shoveling loose bits of dirt, making a hole deep and wide enough for a six-foot one-long body bag. Lisa, his First, helps wordlessly. She's surprisingly not bothered by the earthworms wriggling in the crust all around her or the dusting of brown on her cheeks. She works at a steady pace, tirelessly, hair tied up in a high ponytail. "Do you think he really did it?" Victor asks, tossing a shovel full over his shoulder. It could mean many things, but the Beta knows what he's talking about. Her eyes flicker in the dark, a glimmer of amber agitation before they settle dim again. The woman's expression tightens her lips, a thin line. "You don't

"Is she alright?" Victor says. "Spit it out." "S-she's calling for you, sir," the man responds. "Can you come with-" Victor's already on his feet. "Yes, now. Take me to her." "She's still high on the anesthesia, but she refuses to go down. The staff is- uh - they don't want to restrain her." "What about the operation? Why didn't you call me sooner?" Victor growls as the man hits the elevator button. "I'm so sorry, sir. I just found out myself," the man answers, eyes downcast, wringing his hands. "She's fine. The operation was successful. We'll send her home with birth control, but she's good to go as of now. I recommend you let her rest for a few days, let her recover properly before you- uh-" The way this receptionist is, how afraid he is, and what he's implying. It all makes Victor furious. "Shut up," Victor spits. "If you want to make it out of this f*cking elevator alive, you need to shut the f*ck up." The m

Dim lighting, the smell of damp paper, the clickety-clack of a keyboard that's missing the letter e, this is her life now.Sure, she helped a man and his son save their hole-in-the-wall diner, but she feels underwhelmed. She'd expected do-gooding to be more rewarding.Well, she owes them.The two took her in when no one else would. Who'd want a starving, pregnant, unmated omega, gaunt and waterlogged?No one but these two saints.They gave her a job, and when she proved herself, they gave her a better job. Finances are finances, whether they're for ruthless Pack Alphas or the son and parents duo that is the Walkers.And so Ariadne went from a busgirl to their accountant in a manner of six days.And now they are in the black, finally."Ariadne?" a timid voice sounds at the door.It's Daniel Walker, the forenamed son of the pair."What's up?" Ariadne asks, not looking up from the laptop as she itemizes deductions fo

Ariadne splits for it, running up the stairs to the little room above the diner where she lives in.She slams the door and locks it. Then she settles on her bed, too scared and sad and lonely to fall asleep.But of course, when the world-weariness overtakes her mind, she eventually does.Then the nightmares come.Arthur is there, not the one that sticks Ariadne with knives to twist inside, nor the one who is always on fire but never burning.A young unblooded Arthur is there to witness Ariadne’s loss and tragedy.Her brother and her parents, hands bound, beaten to their knees, they speak only sorrows. And then it rains blood.Arthur tries to look away, but the man, ugly with scars, forces him to look. They make Ariadne look too. How had she forgotten?Arthur had been made that day, just the same as she was.She’d been too busy sobbing over their warm, dead bodies to notice that she was not the only one who ha

Ariadne tries her hardest to keep calm. It’s not good for her or the baby.But then the nausea hits. It could be the car, the smell of ink wafting from Harry’s glands, or the walls closing in.Yeah, it’s the last thing.It’s claustrophobia, and it is setting in, fast and heavy.Ariadne’s afraid suddenly, of small enclosed spaces, like the cage, like before, when the bars pressed pockets into her skin.She’d thought she’d gotten over it. But here it is again at the most inopportune moment.They’re speeding down the highway, and the only way out is a quick death by a tire. She almost wants to-.But her life is not her own anymore.“One,” Ariadne counts before taking a breath, “Two-”“Did Arthur teach you that?” Harry interrupts.He did.“You are disgusting,” Ariadne spits.The wolf inside grapples with the d