# CHAPTER 17: THE INVESTIGATION
The hospital is a sanctuary.
Alana walks through the corridors. Her white coat crisp. Her badge clipped to her lapel. Her face composed. The mask of Dr. Blackwood firmly in place.
But inside, her mind is chaos.
*Werewolves.*
*Mate bonds.*
*Prophecies.*
*Alexander.*
She pushes through the double doors of the doctors' lounge. It's empty. Early morning. The night shift has gone home. The day shift hasn't arrived yet.
She sinks onto a couch. Pulls out her phone.
*Research. I need research. Something concrete. Something that explains any of this.*
She opens the browser. Types: *werewolf legends Pacific Northwest*
The results are useless.
*Fantasy novels. B-movies. Conspiracy forums. Fan fiction.*
She scrolls. Skims. Finds nothing of substance.
*Of course. Why would there be? If werewolves are real—if they've been hiding for centuries—of course there's no evidence online. They wouldn't leave a trail.*
She tries another search: *Aconitum napellus werewolf folklore*
More results. Slightly better. Medical journals discussing the toxicity of wolfsbane. Historical accounts of the plant being used to ward off "evil spirits" and "shape-shifters." Folklore from Europe. Asia. Native American legends.
But nothing concrete. Nothing that says: *Yes, werewolves exist. Here is the proof.*
She leans back. Frustrated.
*Alexander showed me. He shifted. I touched his fur.*
*That's the only proof I have. My own experience. My own senses.*
*And I still don't fully believe it.*
The door opens.
Alana jumps. Slips her phone into her pocket.
Vivian walks in. Her best friend is wearing scrubs. Her dark hair pulled back. Her eyes sharp. Worried.
"There you are." Vivian crosses the room. Sits across from her. "I've been texting you all morning."
Alana checks her phone. Seven unread messages.
"Sorry. I was... distracted."
"Distracted." Vivian's eyes narrow. "You've been distracted for days. Ever since your ex-husband showed up at the hospital." She leans forward. "What is going on, Alana? And don't say 'nothing.' I know you better than that."
Alana is quiet.
*How do I explain this?*
*How do I tell her that werewolves are real? That I'm one of them? That Alexander wants me to have his baby to trap a monster?*
"Viv..." She trails off. Swallows. "I don't know where to start."
"Start at the beginning." Vivian's voice is gentle but firm. "Tell me everything."
---
So Alana does.
She tells Vivian about Alexander's return. The hospital confrontation. The wolf at the window. The shift. The truth about the miscarriage. The poison. The killings. The plan.
It takes an hour.
Vivian listens. Doesn't interrupt. Her face grows paler with each revelation. Her hands grip her knees. Her jaw tightens.
When Alana finishes, the lounge is silent.
Finally, Vivian speaks.
"Werewolves." Her voice is flat. "You're telling me your ex-husband is a werewolf. And you're... what? A werewolf too?"
"A dormant werewolf. Apparently."
"And his stepfather poisoned you. Murdered your baby. And your ex-husband has been running around killing people for five years to avenge you."
"Yes."
"And now he wants you to get pregnant. With his baby. To trap the stepfather. So they can kill him."
"Yes."
Vivian stands. Paces. Her hands run through her hair. Her breathing is ragged.
"Holy shit." She laughs. High-pitched. Hysterical. "Holy shit, Alana."
"I know."
"This is insane. This is absolutely insane."
"I know."
"Werewolves. Actual werewolves. In Seattle. In the twenty-first century."
"I know."
Vivian stops pacing. Turns. Faces her. Her eyes are wide. Frightened. But also... curious.
"Show me."
Alana blinks.
"What?"
"Show me proof." Vivian's voice is steady now. "You said Alexander shifted. That you touched his fur. That you saw it with your own eyes." She crosses her arms. "I need to see it too. I need to know you're not having a mental breakdown."
Alana hesitates.
*I can't shift. Not on command. Not yet.*
"I can't," she admits. "Not yet. My wolf is dormant. I've only shifted once. In my sleep. And I don't remember it."
Vivian's face falls.
"Then how do you know? How do you know any of this is real? How do you know Alexander isn't just... I don't know... insane? A pathological liar?"
"Because I feel it." Alana's voice drops. "The bond. The connection. Something inside me that recognizes him. That knows him." She presses a hand to her chest. "I can't explain it. But it's real. More real than anything I've ever felt."
Vivian is quiet for a long moment.
Then she sighs. Sits back down. Her shoulders slump.
"You actually believe this." It's not a question. "You actually believe he's a werewolf. That you're a werewolf. That all of this is real."
"Yes."
"And you're considering it. The plan. The baby. The trap."
"I don't know." Alana's voice breaks. "Part of me thinks I should run. Get as far away from Alexander and Marcus and all of this as possible." She pauses. "But another part of me..."
"Another part of you what?"
Alana looks at her hands. The hands that have saved hundreds of lives. The hands that couldn't save her own baby.
"Another part of me wants justice," she whispers. "For my son. For myself. For everyone Marcus has hurt." She looks up. Meets Vivian's eyes. "And another part of me... wants him. Alexander. Even after everything. Even after five years. I still feel something. Something I can't ignore."
Vivian is silent.
The clock ticks. The fluorescent lights hum. The world continues outside the lounge. Unaware. Unconcerned.
Then Vivian reaches out. Takes Alana's hand.
"Okay," she says quietly.
Alana blinks.
"Okay what?"
"Okay, I believe you." Vivian's voice is steady. "Not because any of this makes sense. Not because I have proof. But because I know you. And you're not crazy. And you're not a liar." She squeezes Alana's hand. "If you say werewolves are real... then werewolves are real."
Alana's throat tightens. Tears sting her eyes.
"You believe me?"
"I believe you." Vivian nods. "And if you're going to do this—this insane plan to trap a monster and have a baby with your werewolf ex-husband—then I'm with you."
"Vivian—"
"I'm with you." Vivian's voice is firm. "But I'm watching your back. Every step. Because if anyone tries to hurt you—if this Marcus psycho tries anything—I will kill him myself."
Alana laughs. A wet, broken sound.
"With what? A scalpel?"
"I'm a doctor." Vivian's eyes flash. "I know where all the vital organs are."
Alana pulls her into a hug. Holds tight. Her body trembles.
*Someone believes me.*
*Someone is on my side.*
"Thank you," she whispers. "For not thinking I'm crazy."
"Oh, I think you're crazy." Vivian pulls back. Smiles. "But crazy seems to be the new normal." She pauses. "So what's the plan? What happens next?"
Alana takes a breath.
"Tonight. I'm meeting Alexander. At his penthouse. To discuss... everything. The details. The timeline. The risks."
"And then?"
"And then I decide. Once and for all."
---
The day passes in a blur.
Alana goes through the motions. Rounds. Consultations. A post-op check. A budget meeting. The thousand small tasks that make up a hospital administrator's life.
But her mind is elsewhere.
*Werewolves.*
*Prophecies.*
*A baby.*
*Alexander.*
At 6 PM, she leaves the hospital. Drives home. Parks in the garage.
She stands in her apartment. The lilies Derek brought are starting to wilt. The petals curl at the edges. A reminder of time passing. Of decisions waiting.
She showers. Changes. Jeans. A black sweater. Boots. Simple. Practical.
She eats something. Doesn't taste it. Her stomach is tight. Her heart races.
At 8 PM, her phone buzzes.
A text from Alexander.
*"I'm outside."*
She looks out the window. A black SUV idles on the street. The windows are tinted. Impenetrable.
She grabs her coat. Her keys. Walks out the door.
---
The drive is silent.
Alexander sits beside her. His eyes are on the road. His jaw is tight. He looks better than he did last night. Rested. Clean. Shaven.
But there's something else in his face. Hope. Anxiety. The weight of everything that hangs between them.
"Where are we going?" Alana asks.
"Pierce Technologies Tower. My penthouse." He glances at her. "It's secure. Private. No one will disturb us."
"And Derek?"
"At the mansion. Handling pack business." Alexander pauses. "I wanted tonight to be just us. To talk. Without distractions."
Alana nods. Doesn't respond.
The city lights blur past. The Space Needle rises in the distance. A beacon. A landmark. A reminder that the world keeps turning. Even when everything inside her is chaos.
They pull into an underground garage. The gate opens automatically. The SUV descends.
They park. Alexander leads her to a private elevator. It requires a key card. A code. A fingerprint scan.
"Paranoid?" Alana asks.
"Careful." Alexander's voice is dry. "Marcus has people everywhere. Even in my own company."
The elevator rises. Smooth. Silent. Faster than any elevator she's ever been in.
The doors open.
---
The penthouse takes her breath away.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. A view of the entire city. The lights of Seattle spread out like a galaxy. Stars fallen to earth.
The space is open. Modern. Minimalist. Dark wood. Grey stone. Leather furniture. A fireplace. A kitchen that looks like it's never been used.
But what catches her attention is the mantle.
A single photograph sits there. Framed. Simple.
Their wedding day.
Alexander in a black suit. Her in a white dress. Both laughing at something the photographer said. His arm around her waist. Her head on his shoulder. The sun setting behind them.
Alana's breath catches.
"You kept it."
"Of course I kept it." Alexander's voice is quiet. "It's the only thing that kept me sane. All those years. Looking at it. Remembering what I was fighting for."
Alana walks to the mantle. Picks up the frame. Her fingers trace the glass. Over Alexander's face. Over her own.
*I was so happy then.*
*So sure. So certain.*
*Before everything fell apart.*
"He's dead." Alexander's voice is rough. "The photographer. Marcus had him killed. A year after you left. Car accident. Brake lines cut."
Alana's hand trembles.
*Everyone around him dies. Everyone who touches his life.*
"Sit down." Alexander gestures to the couch. "Please. We have a lot to discuss."
She sets the frame back on the mantle. Crosses to the couch. Sits.
He sits across from her. On a leather chair. Close enough to touch. But he doesn't reach for her. He keeps his distance. Respects her space.
"I spoke to William today," he says.
Alana's heart races.
"My uncle."
"Yes. He told me about your conversation. The training. The prophecy." Alexander's eyes are steady. "He believes you're ready. Strong enough to begin."
"Begin what?"
"The pregnancy. The plan." He pauses. "If you're still willing."
Alana is silent.
*Am I willing?*
*Do I have a choice?*
*Do I want a choice?*
"I have questions," she says finally.
"Ask."
"What happens to the baby? After? If we succeed. If Marcus is dead. What happens to the child?"
Alexander doesn't hesitate.
"The baby is ours. Mine and yours. I'll claim it publicly. As my heir. The next Alpha of the Blackwood Pack." His voice drops. "And you... you'll be its mother. Luna. My mate. If you'll have me."
Alana's throat tightens.
*If I'll have him.*
*Such a small phrase. Such a large question.*
"And if I don't want that? If I just want... the baby? Justice? Without you?"
Alexander flinches. Like she's struck him.
"Then the baby is still yours. I would never keep a child from its mother. And I would never force a bond on someone who doesn't want it." His voice is rough. "But I hope... I hope you'll give me a chance. To prove I can be better. To be the man you deserve."
Alana looks at him.
*He's offering me everything. The baby. Justice. Freedom.*
*And he's asking for nothing in return except a chance.*
"I'm scared," she admits. "Not of Marcus. Not of the plan. I'm scared of..." She trails off. Struggles. "Of hoping. Of wanting. Of believing in something again."
Alexander leans forward. His golden eyes bore into hers.
"I know." His voice is soft. "I'm scared too. Of losing you. Of failing you. Of watching you walk away and knowing I deserve it." He pauses. "But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
Alana's breath catches.
*Scared with me. Safe without me.*
*Is that what love is? Choosing fear together over peace alone?*
"Okay," she whispers.
Alexander's eyes widen.
"Okay?"
"I'll do it." Her voice is steady. Clear. "The plan. The baby. The trap." She pauses. "But I need time. Before... before the bond. Before us. I need to know I can trust you. Completely. Without reservation."
Alexander nods. His face is a mix of relief. Joy. Determination.
"Take all the time you need. I'll wait. However long it takes." He stands. "I'll have the contracts drawn up. The medical appointments scheduled. Everything will be done properly. Legally. Your protection. The baby's protection." He pauses. "And Vivian. I'll assign guards. She won't even know they're there."
Alana rises. Faces him.
"Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me." Alexander reaches out. Hovers his hand near her face. Asking permission. "I love you. That's all that matters. That's all that will ever matter."
Alana closes her eyes. Leans into his touch.
His palm is warm against her cheek. Rough. Strong. Familiar.
*This is real.*
*This is happening.*
*A war is coming. A baby is coming. A future I never imagined is waiting.*
She opens her eyes. Steps back.
"I should go. I have work tomorrow. A life. Responsibilities."
"Of course." Alexander drops his hand. "I'll drive you home."
They walk to the elevator. Descend. Cross the garage. Climb into the SUV.
The drive is quiet. Comfortable. A new understanding settling between them.
When they reach her apartment, Alexander walks her to the door.
"I'll be in touch tomorrow," he says. "About the next steps."
Alana nods. Her hand is on the door handle.
"Alexander."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For being honest. For... trying."
His face softens.
"I'll always try. For you." He steps back. "Goodnight, Alana."
"Goodnight."
She closes the door. Leans against it.
Her heart races. Her hands tremble. Her mind is a storm.
*What have I agreed to?*
*A baby. A war. A man who broke my heart and wants to put it back together.*
*Am I insane?*
*Maybe.*
*But at least I'm not alone.*
She walks to the bedroom. Collapses on the bed. Stares at the ceiling.
The phone buzzes.
A text from Vivian.
*"How did it go?"*
Alana types back:
*"I said yes."*
The response is instant:
*"Holy shit. We're really doing this."*
*"Yes. We are."*
*"Okay. I'm with you. Whatever happens. Just promise me one thing."*
*"What?"*
*"If you get a pet wolf, name it after me."*
Alana laughs. A real laugh. The first in a long time.
*"I promise."*
She sets down the phone. Closes her eyes.
*Tomorrow, everything changes.*
*Tonight, I'm just a woman. Making a choice. Hoping it's the right one.*
She falls asleep.
And dreams of running.
---
**END OF CHAPTER 17**
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