"W-Wait," Ariadne says, "Don't shoot."Miraculously, the guard doesn't."Who are you?" he spits, gun trained to Ariadne's chest."I was just going for a run," Ariadne explains, "Then you two Alpha's showed up. I'm sorry, I got scared and a bit overzealous with my defense training class. You probably want this back."The Omega tosses the other guard the extra gun. As he reaches for it, scrambling to catch it, Ariadne roundhouse kicks him in the face. Then they're down, disarmed, humiliated, covered in shoe prints. But Ariadne has no time to savor her victory; she runs down the block.Edward's already there, tense, crouched behind a fence. "What took you so long?"Ariadne couldn't have lost a minute on those guys, minute and a half tops. F*ck, she forgot how good the Silver Omega is."I went to check on a few more locations, but they're out," Edward continues. "I think Victor and Dustin are through. We should head straight for it, except there are three more guys blocking us.""So, what

“What are you?” Tracey sputters, taking a step back, gun falling to her side. “Two transformations in less than an hour with a f*cking bullet lodged in your ribs.”Ariadne’s about to faint, but she doesn’t let on, the legend fueling her. She’s the White Wolf; death wouldn’t dare to claim her. “You’re gonna help patch me up. So help me, if I have to take this bullet out with my bare hands, the next thing I’ll do is kill you.”“No, I won’t help you,” Tracey hisses. “I’m done with the Pack. I’m done with Gordon, and I’m definitely done with you guys. If I never see you again—”“Everything you hate,” Ariadne continues. “I hate it too. I didn’t kill Lisa; it was the Packs, all of this killed her. You want to blame Victor, but you know she never had a chance.”“You didn’t even take her body,” Tracey cries. “You just left her there. There was nothing left for me to bury by the time I found her.”“I’m the only one who can help you,” Ariadne spits, blood running down the corner of her lip. She

Victor Erickson is a coin; on his face, a man in recovery; on the other side, unbelievable hunger. Every iteration of him sits on a throne overruling hell, except one.His sole salvation, the one version of him that’s worth anything at all, is the one that met Ariadne Emerson.Victor opens his eyes, light streaming into the room, bright and painful. It’s morning, one in a long, monotonous series of mornings.He smells coffee wafting in, followed by the sound of soft humming.The Alpha pulls himself out of bed, the cool air giving him goosebumps. He trudges down the hall of the little apartment they’ve rented just for the view of the skyline.Ariadne’s singing to herself as she makes breakfast, in a better mood than last week, when they had to say goodbye to their children when Nathan literally had to tear Ashley out of the Omega’s arms.Ariadne greets him with a kiss and a plate of bacon and eggs. “Take that to the table, baby.”“You’re in a good mood,” Victor notes, carrying the food

Victor's hands are trembling as he sits in his ice bath, dress shirt sheer across his chest. He's trying to read the directions on the back of the extra-strength suppressants that he'd gotten at a dime store. It's been so long since he's taken them that he's not sure if it's two pills every twelve hours or one every eight. His hands won't stay still long enough for him to read it anyway. "F*ck," Victor growls, letting the small package drop to the floor. He's burning, every inch of his skin itchy and inflamed. He's glad Ariadne's asleep, curled in bed without a care in the world, so the Alpha can adequately deal with this before the other wakes up— "What are you doing?" Ariadne's standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. How much time has passed? There are stray cubes still melting on the tiles. "Just taking a bath," Victor answers through chattering teeth. "With your clothes still on?" Ariadne takes a groggy step forward, and that's when the smell hits her. The Omega's knee

The windows break overhead, showering the people in shards of jagged glass. Victor ducks under his arm as rain cuts through the sleeves of his suit. He does his best to protect Waylon with his body since the Beta refuses to move.Little metal shells litter the floor, belching out huge plumes of purple, knock-out smoke. It's suffocating, and Victor's hit with a surge of adrenaline. His body wants him to survive, trying to cancel out the effects of the sleeping gas for as long as it can."You can't do this," Victor shouts, covering his mouth with his arm. "We haven't done anything wrong."An officer with a gas mask on points a gun in his face. "Victor Erickson? We're here to apprehend you. You're charged with fifteen counts of homicide, eight counts of grand larceny—"Victor tries his best to fight the man off, but it's useless as the chemicals bond with his receptors. He can barely keep his eyes open as his arms are wrenched behind his back. "You have the right to remain silent; anythi