The Unwanted Saviour

Dante.

Drakan—the former alpha of the Tongass pack, was dead.

His body lay slack as blood corrupted the snow beneath him. Here, in a stagnant part of the Tongass forest, Southeast of Alaska, while his soul was paying in hellfire for his sins.

Despite the arctic temperatures, my skin was hot and tight as I shifted back into a man.

The wolf in me was raging with fury.

If I didn’t repress it, it would cost me everything—if it hadn’t already.

I fought to glance everywhere but at the mangled body on the ground, skimming through the crowd of onlookers.

The entire Tongass pack was here to witness the event. In particular, there were two people I refused to acknowledge, knowing repulsion marred their faces.

It was my mother, Ivana, and my younger sister, Anabelle.

Even an average person without heightened senses could see Annabelle’s body tremble beneath her coat and hear my mother’s desperate gasps for air.

They had witnessed my ascend as the new alpha.

And the fall of the former—my father, Drakan.

My body tensed all over, my fists clenched by my sides. Then, without intending to, my eyes flicked to my father lying lifeless on the ground.

A deep, rumbling sound escaped my chest as the realization set in. I killed my father.

The bastard was dead.

I knew I wasn’t the only one pleased about this development, yet I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate my victory.

Not yet.

I had hurt the only people I loved by saving them.

My mother didn’t know what Drakan was capable of and what he was planning to do.

Ivana always glorified the monster, under the false assumption her mate was a man of honor who would protect them until his dying breath.

She didn’t know what Drakan had done to Annabelle or the countless other women around the area.

To the ones not even I was aware of. The mere thought made my stomach turn.

“How...why?” My mother fell to her knees beside Drakan, cupping the dead man’s face inside her palms. “How could you do this, Dante?”

Her voice was low—a disbelieving echo inside the wind stirring the forest.

“Your father,” the words cut past Ivana’s lips. She glanced at me as if she didn’t recognize me. “The man who raised you. Protected you…” she sucked in a shaky breath. “Your own flesh and blood!”

The entire pack sank a few steps back, except for Anabelle, who stood unmoving and staring at our father’s body. Not once did she glance at me, her brother, who had saved her from an inevitable hell.

I could feel through the pack bond that she hated me for it, which only infuriated me more.

How much more torture was she willing to take for the sake of our mother? I had thought at least my sister would stick to my side if the day would come—which it did—and she was already backing away.

Had Drakan not put her through enough?

One by one, the pack bowed down to me, their new alpha. It was a tradition that once the former alpha perished, the pack must bow to their new leader.

Anabelle gritted her teeth, scowling up at me. She hesitated for a moment, but in the end, I knew she feared backlash from the pack, and she forced herself onto her knees.

My mother didn’t bow. I didn’t expect her to, but by rules, the pack will punish her for her lack of action later on, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

Leader or not, rules were rules.

I noted the light left my mother’s eyes as she glared up at me.

“You are nothing of me. Nothing,” she bit out. And as if the blow wasn’t hard enough, she added, “I regret the day I brought you into this world.”

I wanted to tell her everything, but the pack couldn’t know. It would stir a hunt of another sort, taking down innocent bystanders simply by association to the former alpha and what he did. That included Ivana and Anabelle.

The whole point of killing my father was to protect them, not put them in even more danger.

I couldn’t win whichever way, could I?

Time stretched on for a good minute before everyone straightened up. My closest and lifelong friend, Xavius, was the first to approach me as the crowd dispersed.

He rested a hand on my shoulder, avoiding glancing at me directly. The exchange could become awkward, as I was in all my full, naked glory.

“They will forgive you,” Xavius spoke, surveying the figures meandering off into the stretch of woods. “Eventually.”

I breathed out a ragged breath. “I hardly doubt it. My sister hates me, and my mother has disowned me.”

“You did what you had to.”

“You try to explain that to them.” I stepped away toward a large, hollowed-out tree where they kept spare clothes and dressed.

“I would clean myself off a bit if I were you,” Xavius sounded amused. “You look like something the dog took for a good shake in the woods.”

I watched as my friend turned, filing after the other shapes between the overgrowth.

I snorted, noting my broad chest was covered in mud, leaves, and moisture from the melting snow. There was no doubt in my mind that my long, raven hair must look like a crow's nest. I reached up to discover, sure enough, my usually glossy hair had become a clump of leaves and small sticks.

My body was covered in scratches, and in my thigh was a deep, bleeding bite that my father was responsible for in an attempt to fight back.

But I was bigger, younger, and much stronger.

The fight was rough and violent, and it undoubtedly showed.

The better man won, regardless of how my mother and sister saw it. I would never do unto others as Drakan did.

I knew that the fight wasn’t over. It was only the beginning, and I would have to prepare myself for war.

And I sure as hell would win.

Shards of Ice

After a sleepless night on the floor, freezing, and using my clothes as a mattress, I was out at the crack of dawn to take care of my shopping.

Delicate blooms of snow rained down onto the streets of Ketchikan, giving off the illusion that all the trees, buildings, and everything else in the town was molded out of thick, cloudlike ice.

I managed to find a decent second-hand mattress and some new bedding and had enough money left to stock up on groceries for the entire month.

To top it all off, I didn’t get charged extra to have the furnishing store deliver everything to my apartment door.

That included my groceries.

Feeling like there was still hope left in humanity, I immediately turned the lock on my door when the delivery people left and unpacked everything from the bags.

I also bought two extra locks and chains for my door, which I prayed I’d be able to install myself without permanently damaging something, and ended having to get things fixed—which I definitely couldn’t afford right now.

The small bachelor flat would make a good front cover for an apocalyptic-themed magazine. The faded rose wallpaper was covered in an assortment of water stains, shredded in places, and had random holes drilled into them.

The wall where the kitchen area was had ‘stud’ spray-painted in graffiti, and the sink was overgrown with mold.

The bathroom was a nightmare.

The bathtub was past redeemable, with a large hole in the middle and the enamel eaten away by the overuse of chemicals.

I considered turning it into a mini-herb garden and spruce it up with some colorful paint. But, at least the shower worked and was cleanable.

It would take me a lot of work and money to make the place livable, but it was better than being knocked around and having every move you make watched under a microscope.

The day I walked out of my home of eighteen years, St. Hills orphanage, I was convinced I had nothing but great things ahead for me.

With new-love butterflies inside my tummy and being a freshly enrolled student at the local University to get my degree in nursing, I never imagined my life would go from bad to worse.

I went from a prison to a place called hell.

Now, I could go wherever and whenever I wanted. I was no longer shackled down under a man’s control—even if it meant I had to put up with a ratty apartment and harassment from my neighbor.

There was a knock on my door as I was busy moving the mattress into the corner of the room. I wiped my hands against my jeans, headed for the door, and peered through the peephole.

Speak of the devil.

Doing my best not to make a sound, I tip-toed away from the door and picked up my new bedding to spread out onto my bed.

“I wouldn’t sleep too peacefully tonight if I were you.” A sick, stomach-turning chuckle sounded from the hallway. “Uptight bitches around here don’t fare too well. If you ‘aint riding your way in, you get put down quickly. It’s your choice, cupcake.”

A wet cough moved away from the door. “You know where to find me. I have a hungry beast in my pants to please, so you better grab that offer while it’s still hot on the table!”

I dropped the blanket I was holding, headed for the kitchen counter to pick up the hammer lying there, and grabbed a lock.

“Screw you,” I murmured under my breath and got to work.

***

Monday morning hit me like a freight train. I woke up shivering on the floor, where I somehow managed to roll off the mattress. A weekend spent scrubbing and sweeping showed on my hands and body, and the lack of sleep carried heavily under my eyes. During the past two nights, it was clear Red Roy would make good on his word and harass me throughout the night.

I was startled awake a few times by ear-splitting bangs against the door, testing the value of the locks I installed.

At this point, I had full faith in my contraptions but questioned the durability of the door’s wood.

Next month my extra money would go for a railing door. My initial plan was to buy a new bed, but that was something that had to wait. Safety always came first.

It was late spring in Alaska, but the climate was below freezing point.

A thick layer of dust had already settled across the freshly polished kitchen counters and glimmered like diamonds from the sun casting through the curtainless windows.

Today was my first day as a student nurse at the Ketchikan care home for the elderly. Ultimately, I wanted to finish my degree in nursing and find a job at a high-end hospital wherever I end up with a permanent residence. Then, I would work until I had saved up enough money, enroll in a night college, and finish my degree from there.

I managed to get dressed in record time and did the best I could with the bit of makeup I owned and was out the door, double-checking if it was locked properly.

When raised voices echoed through the large, dimly lit hallway, I made a quick turn for the elevator I swore never to use again. To get to the stairs, I would have to pass Red Roy’s open door.

I would rather take my chances with the rocky elevator, thank you very much.

Nearly an almost heart attack later, I made my way out into the white Alaskan streets to make the best of my new life.

A New Life

Dante.

Snow tumbled from the sky like feathered crystals, masking the pathway in white ice leading up to the Ketchikan care home. A large mass of smoke formed around me as I leaned against the trunk of my crimson Lexus GS 400, breathing in on a cigar I never thought I’d touch.

It was a gift from Drakan many years prior, but I refused to touch it before today.

In a dark, twisted kind of way, it was my way of celebrating my victory against my father, hoping it would trigger the nerves of the bastard in the afterlife.

Drakan had put his family through literal hell, had turned them against me, and left the remnants of his actions behind in the living world, as he now resided in his grave.

“Rot in hell you twisted piece of shit,” I murmured under my breath, dumping the cigar on the snow and crushing it with my boot. I stuck my hands into my pockets, peering at the entrance of the care home.

The glass doors slid open, and a nurse walked out, pushing an elderly man out in a wheelchair toward a car. The nurse was followed by a couple I presumed were his children.

I waited patiently for the nurse to help the man into the car, greet the couple and turn to push the wheelchair back inside.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking how much easier it would be for me to get back into my car a drive off. But I knew my grandmother, Drakan’s mother, was in there eagerly awaiting my visit.

I knew I shouldn’t have called her and told her I would drop by. The motivation I had felt when I made that call had slipped away.

How was I going to tell the old woman that I adored more than anything, that I’d killed her only son?

If anything, she was more of a mother to me than my own mother ever was.

I blew out a ragged breath, certain I was going to lose the last family member I cared about. I doubted her heart would handle the news.

Pushing my hair back from my face, I felt around in my pocket for a worn-out elastic and tied my hair into a rough knot on my head.

Millie, my grandmother, always scolded me about my hair and cutting it. “Sorry grams, but the man bun is staying,” was what I’d respond to every time.

She’d laugh it off and tell me she loved me regardless.

With a final deep sigh, I mustered the courage and slowly made my way toward the entrance.

Millie sat in a chair by her window, peering out at the tumbling snow almost as white as her hair. This morning she had red blossoms in them, complimenting her fair but wrinkled skin.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” she turned her head and smiled at me. “You become even more handsome each time I see you. Come, give your grandmama a hug.”

Her frail arms reached up, and I didn’t waste a second to bend down and hug her.

“Grams, you look beautiful today,” I spoke into her puffy hair.

When she released me, she snorted a laugh. “Always trying to flatter the ladies, are we?”

I grinned. “Of course, how else?”

Millie’s eyes dropped to my chin, her silver brows rose. “You need to get a proper shave.”

I rubbed the stubble across my jaw. “I was thinking of growing it.”

She clucked her tongue. “Don’t you think the tattoos and the hair are enough? You’ll end up looking like one of those rabid dogs lurking the alleys around town.”

“Maybe I am?” I quirked a brow.

Millie threw her head back and laughed. “Come, sit, you silly boy. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

When I sunk onto the bed, a frown marred my face. “Why isn’t the bed made? Did you just wake up?”

“I’ve been up for hours.” Millie shook her head. “The nurse must be busy attending someone else first. I heard Clark isn’t faring too well, poor thing.”

“Really?” My eyes settled on the empty pitcher. “Did they bring you something to drink at least? What did you have for breakfast?”

The old woman’s lips pursed. “They haven’t brought any food yet.”

“They didn’t?” I was on my feet, my face hot. “It’s almost lunch! So you’re telling me they didn’t attend to you at all this morning?”

Millie waved it off. “I told you there must be something wrong. They never neglect me.”

“No, this won’t do.” I stalked toward the door, my jaw ticking. “Who is the nurse that’s supposed to tend to you?”

Millie shrugged. “Some new girl. No idea what her name is.”

Tremble

Azalea.

I flinched as the bleach stung my skin. I was busy washing a pile of towels by hand since the only washing machine decided to give in this morning.

It wasn’t a great start, but at least the manager agreed to have it fixed as soon as possible.

“If they hand over more, I swear I’m going to run away,” Diane breathed, carrying a large pile of towels. She dumped it beside my pile and began working on it.

Diane was also a nurse that worked at the Ketchikan care home. But unlike me, she already had her degree.

She was the only person working here that made me feel welcome. “At least the water is warm,” I tried.

Diane snorted a laugh. “There’s that. I can’t wait for the long week to be over so I can take a break.”

“It’s only Monday,” I smirked.

“Right? A whole of five days. It’s scandalous!” she waved her arms dramatically. “Anyway, what are you doing Friday?”

I shivered when I dipped my cold hands into the warm water running from the tap. “I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

“Since you don’t know anyone here, why don’t we go out and hang out at someplace?” she asked. “I have a few clubs in mind. I’ll invite friends over, and you can get acquainted.”

“I don’t know—”

“Oh, come on now, girl, you can’t hide in your flat forever. You need to meet people. It’s going to get lonely.”

I sighed, dropping my shoulders. “Fine, I guess I can—”

“Winona! Winona!” Mrs. Bobbins, the head nurse, cried out shrilly from outside the hallway. “Where are you?” It took me a moment to remember it’s my fake name the woman was calling out.

I popped my head out into the hallway to find Mrs. Bobbins’ tight expression snapping in my direction. She was shadowed by a man double her size, and if I had to admit, shockingly handsome.

I would have smiled if the man’s dark gaze wasn’t ridden with pure irritation. My face dropped, and I nervously asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, very,” Mrs. Bobbins spoke stiffly. “When are you planning to attend to Mrs. Lockwood?”

“Who?” My brows furrowed. “I’m not supposed to tend to her. She’s not on my file.”

Mrs. Bobbin’s one eye twitched as if she was fighting hard to keep her composure. “Can I see it?”

I nodded, bolting down the hall to fetch my file. I double-checked the list of names while rushing back, and as expected, there wasn’t a Lockwood on that list. “See, no name by Lockwood.”

Mrs. Bobbin’s expression turned apologetic as she glanced up at the man. “I’m sincerely sorry, sir. But, unfortunately, it seems the secretary made a mistake.” She forcefully shoved the file back at me. “Go tend to her, now, please,” she bit out the last word.

In the short span of few hours I’d worked there, I learned that Mrs. Bobbins was as pleasant as taking a dip in a bath filled with ice during winter.

I also knew that even though the mistake was the secretary’s doing, I was going to get an earful later.

“I’m right on it.” When Mrs. Bobbins was out of sight, I nervously peered up at the man. “Sorry, but in which room is she?”

“Twenty-three,” he bit out, his gaze narrowed on me. “This better not happen again.”

“Of course not, sir,” I breathed out, turning toward the direction of Mrs. Lockwood’s room. “I’m really sorry about this mix-up. I never neglect my patients.”

“Hmm,” was the only response I got from the man shadowing my movement.

“Has...she eaten yet?” AI swallowed down the shakiness in my voice. “I mean, did she have anything to eat yet?”

“No, not a damn thing,” he snapped, and I flinched. I could tell this man was as powerful as he was domineering and didn’t take well when people didn’t do as he pleased.

Then again, I didn’t blame him. The poor old lady must be starving. “I understand. Again, I’m really—”

“Stop apologizing and give her something to eat, damn it!” he barked, making me jump.

“Right on it,” I murmured, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“She likes her eggs sunny side up, and she prefers strawberry yogurt,” the man called after me. “And no sugar in her tea!”

“No sugar.” I breathed a sigh of relief when I was finally alone in the kitchen. It felt like a predator had stalked me, and I just managed to escape its claws unscathed. I snorted to myself. “Honestly, Azalea, what’s the worst that man can do to you? Bite you?”

And, not everyone was Barry, I reminded myself. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the man I just encountered could effortlessly snap Barry in two.

He definitely had the body for it, I mused, feeling the heat blossoming my cheeks.

Pity, I was the one his irritation was directed at. Sighing once more, I gathered Mrs. Lockwood’s breakfast, making an extra effort by placing flowers on the side of the tray and added a few sugar cookies to a small plate.

When I was done, I headed for Mrs. Lockwood’s room, only to find the beastly man guarding the door with his arms crossed to his chest.

When his eyes rested on me, he smiled. A flutter exploded in my belly as I cleared my throat. “Uhm, may I pass, please? I’m sure your grandmother is starving.”

“Of course,” he stepped aside, but he held out a muscular arm covered in tattoos. “Look, I owe you an apology.”

I blinked up at him, knowing confusion marred my features. “Okay?”

“Turns out it was the secretary that messed up, after all. See, she’s packing her things as we speak.”

My eyes bulged. “She got fired?”

“Yes. Because let me make this abundantly clear,” he leaned so close that I could smell the sweet mint on his breath. “That old lady in that room back there is everything to me. So help anyone who messes with her or fails to take care of her.”

I gulped, not sure how this guy thought that was an apology. “I understand. It is what we are here for.”

“You also need to—”

“For heaven’s sake, Dante, enough scaring the poor thing,” a woman’s gentle voice carried from the room. “Let her in. I’m famished.”

Blossoms

Dante.

“Please put it over here for me,” Grandmother requested, her eyes following the young woman’s movement. “These look delightful. Oh, and you’ve added flowers.” She threw a wink at me.

Aware of my grandmother plotting something, I narrowed his eyes. “You always get flowers, grams.”

“From you, yes.” Her gaze remained focused on the beautiful blonde. “Never the nurses. Thank you, dear. The food looks scrumptious.”

“You’re welcome,” the nurse straightened after placing down the tray of food. “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. I’ll make sure this never happens again.”

Grandmother patted her on the hand. “It’s alright, dear. Like I told Dante over here, it gets busy during the colder months in this place. Do you know how Clark is doing? I haven’t heard much of him after his weak heart issues.”

The woman’s face dropped. Her wide, blue eyes flicked my way, a question ridden in them. Aware of what she was asking, I returned a curt nod of approval.

The porcelain skin on her face had a slight kiss of freckles, and pink blossomed her cheeks. Her luscious lips drew down as she glanced back at my grandmother. “You were a friend of his?”

“Were?” My grandmother gave her the kind of look like she already knew the answer. Just like me, she could tell the woman didn’t want to inform her of the news that clearly foreshadowed her expression. “Dear, I’m turning hundred in a week. I’ve lost more people than you can count.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lockwood.”

“It’s the circle of life,” she sighed. “I’m lucky to have known that man. Oh, well.” Grandmother casually reached for her plate but missed it, nearly spilling over the contents. The nurse and I ducked to grab it before it became floor food.

This resulted in me accidentally grabbing hold of the nurse’s tiny hand in the process and standing way too close to her to be deemed appropriate.

My god, I thought, not only did she look like something I could eat, she smelled like it too. Strawberries and apples? I couldn’t resist the opportunity to lean in closer, sniffing her hair.

The nurse turned to face me, her lips slightly parted with surprise. She cleared her throat before speaking in a tiny voice. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”

My eyes narrowed to her chest, where I could hear her heart beating faster. Her small frame tensed, and I glanced up to find her glaring at me. It took me a moment to process the situation. She was undoubtedly under the impression that I was ogling her cleavage, which, now that I thought about it was nice, but it wasn’t what I was looking at.

I offered an uneasy smile, stepping back and murmured a pathetic-sounding, “Sorry.”

“What is your name, dear?” Grandma pressed the brim of the cup and took a sip, her eyes closely following the nurse’s movements.

“I’m Winona,” the nurse supplied with a smile. There was unease in her voice, “Winona Greene.”

“What a lovely name,” Grandmother gushed. “I should have known a becoming lady such as yourself would only bear a beautiful name like that.”

“Thank you,” Winona flushed, handing grandmother a spoon. “Is there anything else I can get you, Mrs Lock—”

Grandmother grabbed Winona’s hand, tugging her closer. “My dear girl, look at your hands. What on earth. Is that horrid Mrs Bobbins mistreating her staff?”

“No, not at all.” Winona’s eyes widened, pulling her hand back. “This is nothing.”

“That’s not nothing. Those are hands that worked much harder than they should. Is someone mistreating you, dear?”

Winona sighed. “The thing is, I moved this weekend and cleaned out my place. To be honest, it was in a terrible state and took somewhat elbow grease.” She wiggled her fingers. “They’ll heal in no time.”

“I see,” Grandmother inclined her head. “How long have you been in town?”

“Since Friday.”

“My goodness, you don’t catch a break, do you?” Grandmother’s eyes flicked toward me before turning back on Winona. “How do you find Ketchican so far? You live in town, right?”

“It’s beautiful here.” Her eyes glimmered as she said it, but sadness crept into her features. “It’s nice,” she added in a flatter tone.

“Is it just you?” Grandmother pressed on. “A boyfriend? Husband?”

I didn’t miss the naughty sparkle in grandmother’s eyes, and I knew exactly what she was up to. I sighed, trying to blend back with the pale curtains. But, no matter how hard I tried, I knew there was no escaping whatever the old woman had up her sleeve.

My eyes turned back onto Winona, my fingers massaging the stubble on my jaw.

“Oh, no.” Pink blossomed her cheeks. “It’s just me. No family, or anyone else.”

“No family?” Grandmother enquired. “What about siblings? Or your parents?”

“Grams,” I protested. “Don’t you—”

“Dante, check that top drawer of mine. The violet bottle of hand lotion.” Grandmother pointed to the set of drawers in the corner of the room. “Bring it here, please.”

“Of course,” I breathed, doing as she asked while keeping a tentative eye on them as I found the bottle exactly where she told me it would be.

“So?” Grandmother peered up expectantly at the woman, and I could only roll my eyes.

“It’s just me.” Winona’s smile was tense. “No family.” It was clear the woman was uncomfortable about the subject, but that doesn’t stop my grandmother from asking her next question.

“I’m sorry, dear. With who did you stay growing up?”

“Grandma,” I exclaimed. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast before it gets cold?”

Winona’s eyes found mine for a scarce second before she turned away.

“No, come here dear, I still require your presence.” Grandmother snatched the lotion from me. “I’ll finish my breakfast now. Winona?”

Winona’s shoulders sagged as she twisted back around, forcing a smile. “Sure. What can I get you?”

“Come over her,” Grandmother gestured her closer with the flick of a wrist, waving the lotion bottle in her other hand.

Winona did as instructed, reaching for the bottle, but grandma held it out of her reach. “Sit down beside me.”

Again, Winona did as she was asked.

“Dante, hold out your hand,” Grandmother turned her attention to me. “Come, now, we don’t have all day.”

Winona shifted as I breezed past her, eyeing the old woman with suspicion.

I held out my hand, suspecting she wanted us to each massage a hand. Sure enough, as I cupped a palm, Grandma squeezed out a decent amount of lavender-scented lotion.

I sputtered a laugh. “Typical.” However, when I reached for her hand, she tore it away and clucked her tongue.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Winona.”