Mercy and Monsters

CONNOR

I froze solid, my breath snagging in my throat like fabric caught on barbed wire.

~There’s no way that’s her. I left her in an induced coma this morning, for fuck’s sake.~ Either I was hallucinating, or this was some kind of cosmic cruelty.

A shiver slithered down my spine as her unblinking stare sent ripples of dread through my gut.

Not taking my eyes off her, I fumbled with my phone and called Ben.

“Yes, Alpha?” Ben’s voice was casual, too upbeat for the chaos that was unraveling.

“Ben, has Willow woken up yet?” My voice was a harsh whisper through the receiver. No pleasantries, only raw desperation.

“Um, not that I’ve been told, no. I can double-check and get back to you?”

“Yeah, do that. Send me a text.”

The call ended, and I didn’t wait. I was already crossing the street, half ready to tear space apart if she disappeared like that other woman had. The text came through before I reached her, and I glanced at the screen.

Ice slithered through my veins while I read his message confirming that Willow was still in her coma.

~What the fuck?~ I thought, stopping mere feet away, close enough to smell her scent.

Except there wasn’t one. Nothing. Where her fragrance should’ve been, there was only emptiness, the distance between us an abyss of unanswered questions.

She smiled, but it was hollow, mechanical. Her expression was unreadable, and those eyes—green like Willow’s—were icy, without even a flicker of recognition.

“Willow?” I asked.

“Sorry, wrong girl.” Her voice was silk on broken glass, but it didn’t pull me in the way a mate’s should.

Which meant she wasn’t lying.

A torrent of questions flooded my mind, and my brain struggled to keep up.

Shaking them away, I changed tack. “I’m Connor. May I ask who you are?” It was hard not to come across as too interested, too intense. But I faked it as best I could.

“I’m Clara.”

“Clara. You look… familiar. Do you have a sister, perhaps?”

The smile slipped from her face, replaced by something more unsettling: a look of victory, as if she’d just played a winning hand in a round of blackjack. “No. But thanks for the info.”

The statement hung in the air before her grin returned, more disturbing than reassuring. Without another word, she turned away, slid into a black SUV, and rode off into the city before I could even utter an objection.

My skin crawled as I watched the vehicle vanish around the corner, my gnawing unease now a full-blown assault on my senses.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” I muttered, still in shock. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ben again.

“Alpha Connor? What’s up?”

“Ben, can you trace a license plate for me?”

“Yeah, sure. I can get Josh on it. What is it?”

I rattled off the information, and each character felt like a step toward answers.

***

My phone rang at five oh three a.m.

I was already awake, hadn’t really slept. Receiving a call from Doctor Ross didn’t surprise me, but his words did.

“She’s awake,” he said. “Stable vitals. Lucid. I’ll be clearing her for release this morning.”

~Clearing her for release? So soon?~ I didn’t bother responding. I was already moving.

The air outside was heavy with mist when I stepped out. The mountains were cloaked in the hush of predawn.

My drive to the clinic was a blur of trees and asphalt. Every part of me was drawn tight—not with dread, not even with fear, but with something worse.

Hope.

A fragile, stupid hope that chewed at the edges of my composure.

I stormed through the infirmary doors into a shifted atmosphere. Unlike before, a tension filled the air, despair so thick it tasted like smoke and blood on my tongue.

The doctor had moved Willow into a private recovery room, where I found them in the middle of a seemingly tense conversation. I stepped lightly to the door to observe.

Willow sat hunched on the edge of the bed in the dim light, her arms wrapped around herself, an IV dangling from her wrist like a leash.

Gone were the cast, the sling, the bruises, and the swelling.

~Holy fuck~.

That she’d recovered this quickly meant her wolf wasn’t just strong—it was alpha-level insane. The kind of alpha that came from ancient blood.

She was saying something to the doctor, her voice ragged and low but clear. “You don’t understand. You think you’re saving me, but you’re not. I shouldn’t be alive. People ~die~ when I’m alive.”

Doctor Ross tried to speak, but she shook her head and raised a hand.

“You have to help me end it. I beg you. Help me end it. It’s better, ~safer~, if I’m gone. No one will care, trust me. No one ever has.”

That last part did something to me, cut deeper than it should’ve.

Without thinking, I walked into the room and said, “I care.”

Both heads turned.

Willow blinked at me, startled. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was tangled from sleep and fear and gods knew what else. But her eyes… They were sharp, awake, and bracing for pain. She seemed as surprised by my words as I was to have said them.

“I’ll take it from here,” I told the doctor without looking at him.

He hesitated for only a second before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him. Silence fell, a charged, brittle silence that pressed in on me.

I crossed the room slowly, carefully, until I stood right beside her bed. Willow didn’t move, but her hands fisted the thin blanket as though it were the only thing tethering her to the world. I reached out and gently grazed her fingers.

The effect was immediate.

A low hum of electricity sparked across my skin, warm and intimate. Something deep inside me seemed to sigh in recognition. Her skin, her scent, her presence made my whole body relax.

My wolf wasn’t pacing anymore. He was howling. “~Mate! Mate! Mate!~”

I stared at our hands, at the spot where we touched. ~If the Goddess gave her to me…if the bond is real…she can’t really be a threat.~

Suddenly, Willow jerked her hand back. “Don’t touch me.”

Something in her voice made me blink—not its anger but the way it shook. It wasn’t rage. It was panic.

Lisa had been right.

“You really don’t know what you are, do you?” I asked quietly.

She looked up, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a werewolf. Did you know that?”

Her lips parted, and her breath stuttered. With eyes as wide as saucers, she whispered, “How do you know that?”

“Because I’m one too.” I gave her a soft smile. “So are most of the people here. Even the doc.”

She shook her head slowly, a frown marring that perfect brow. “Really?”

“It’s true. We’re all just like you.”

“No. Whatever you think, you’re not like me—or, I’m not like you. This thing inside me, it just…takes over, and then terrible things happen.” Tears welled in her eyes before her gaze fell to her lap. “I’m a monster, cursed and broken. Please, put me out of my misery.”

I crouched beside her, careful not to touch her again. “There ~is~ something inside you. But it’s not a monster, it’s your wolf. You’re not cursed, Willow. You’re not broken. You’re not…unfixable.”

She released a bitter laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” I said. “But I know you aren’t what ~you~ think you are.”

She stared past me at the wall, her expression distant and searching. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But I can’t control it. I hurt people.”

“You ~can~ control it,” I said firmly. “You don’t have to kill anyone. You ~won’t~ kill anyone, not while you’re here.” That brought her head back up. “You’re not some ravenous creature—I mean, you’re a predator, sure, but you’re also human. You’re both.”

She looked at me with blank confusion.

Feeling like I was saying everything wrong, I stood and stepped away from her. My wolf didn’t like this, and I drew in a slow breath to calm him as he paced behind my ribs.

It was time for someone else to help Willow and for me to tend to alpha duties.

“There are a few things I need to ask before you’re released,” I said. “Let’s call it… insurance.”

Willow tensed. “Are you going to torture me again?”

A grimace crossed my face before I could stop it. “Just questions, I promise,” I said, softening my voice.

She frowned but nodded.

“Did anyone send you here?”

“No,” she said. Her heartbeat stayed steady.

“Are you on a mission?”

“No.”

“Are you a threat to my pack?”

She swallowed. “Not on purpose.”

My brow lifted. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what I’m capable of. But I know I don’t ~want~ to hurt anyone. I never wanted to.” Still steady. The truth.

“Is there any reason someone might say you are a threat?”

She paused before answering, “Yes. The people who kept me. They said I wasn’t like normal people. Said I…wasn’t right. Called me dangerous. A monster.” Her voice cracked on that last word.

I listened carefully to her pulse, which never faltered. She was telling the truth.

“I believe you,” I said. “So I’ll have them let you out of here.”

Willow blinked up at me, stunned, as if she’d been expecting more punishment, restraints, and another cage.

“But,” I continued, “you’ve got a lot to learn about werewolves. For your safety, I must insist you remain on pack land. I’ll send someone to help you find a place in the pack house where you can stay. Once you settle into your…skin, you can decide next steps.

“In the meantime, you’re free to explore the territory if you want. You’re not a prisoner anymore, Willow, but you are an unknown. And wolves don’t like unknowns.” I paused to let it all sink in, then added, “But, I promise, we’ll keep you safe here.”

As I spoke, her expression shifted from confusion to fear to hope, settling on what seemed to be cautious gratitude. She smiled and relaxed her posture, glancing once again at her lap.

But I wasn’t finished. “However, if anything happens to anyone in my pack”—I kept my voice cold, my tone final—“you’ll get your wish.”

Her gaze snapped up to mine, and I held it.

Leaning forward, I let her see the steel in my eyes as I made her a promise that would break me to keep. “I ~will~ kill you.”