Klepto POV

The hot water engulfs me. The beads of water are so hot they nearly seer my skin. Thick, white clouds of humidity fill the stall in puffs. I take a deep, full breath. My lungs fill with the wet air until they feel like they may burst right open.

I stare at the tile flooring underneath me. The water rinsing away from my skin carries copious amounts of pink tinged liquid.

Blood still stains me, a gentle reminder of the horrendous night I'd experienced.

Every time I close my eyes I see death. I stare him in the face as he makes me relive the deaths of the ones I love. I watch my Father's body crash to the ground in a heap of lifeless flesh and bone. I stand on the sidelines as my little sister lays motionless in a pool of dark blood.

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to sob.

But nothing happens. I choke as I realize just how empty I really am in this moment. I close my eyes as tight as I can while I let the water rush down on me.

The scent of blood overwhelms me in this little, enclosed space.

I grab a bottle of body wash and open it, pouring a huge glob in my hand and scrubbing my body with the bubbly suds. I scratch at my skin as hard as I can, my nails making long red lines across my body.

The blood is gone after a bit of scrubbing, but I continue to rub my flesh raw with tears in my eyes. I scrape the skin away with every ounce of energy I have left in me.

I remember my dad. My poor Father that never got to meet his mate. My sister that never got to meet her mate. I mourn the loss of those missed relationships. Their mates will never find them, and they will always wonder what happened to their soul mate.

Life is oh so cruel.

I step out of the shower half an hour later. I wanted to stay under the hot jet stream, but the water has gone cold by now. I've used up all the warmth for my own selfish moment of grief.

I glance down at my fingernails. Darkness is shoved under the length of them, the blood building up under my nails to show me just how much blood I had on me.

I don't know how much of it's from my own veins, and how much is from an enemy that I ruthlessly killed.

My whole body cringes when I remember just how ruthless I was on that battlefield mere hours ago. I killed so many wolves. Their bodies littered the ground around me and I hadn't cared.

I was protecting my pack.

The thoughts of those lives I ended reminds me of that first rogue that had started this all. When I'd killed him, Ezra had taken care of me so tenderly I was amazed by his tenderness.

I glance at the shower, reminiscing of the bath that my mate had given me.

It's a stark contrast to the shower I'd just taken. Whereas my mate was soft and kind to me as he washed me, I furiously cleansed myself with harsh, rough hands. I had been trying to wipe away the awful memories as if they were smears on my skin.

My gaze wanders to my reflection in the mirror. The once beautiful makeup expertly applied to my face has turned into harsh, black circles around my puffy eyes. I grab a washcloth and scrub at the mess until it's gone without a trace.

I'm bare faced and blotchy. There isn't a part of me that isn't doused in pink markings.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door and I'm scrambling to get a robe around my naked body. I push my tangled hair out of my face as I tie the robe shut.

I don't ask who's at the door, because I already know who it is. When I open it, Ezra walks in with a worried expression that he tries to mask with a soft smile. It's a strange, strangled expression.

"Come on." He reaches out his hand and I take it carefully, like his fingers are made of glass. He leads me out of the bathroom and to our shared bedroom. I limp slowly through the hallway, my injury still healing itself slowly.

My mate closes the door and sets me on the bed.

I pet the plush blanket underneath me and sigh.

Ezra goes through the dresser and gets me some clothes. I change quickly in the privacy of the closet. I don't bother turning on the light, I don't really even want to see myself. I don't want to look at my skin.

When I step out into the light I don't spare a look at my lycan mate who sits on the bed waiting for me. I don't want to think about anything that just happened. I need to relax in the silence.

Sweet, beautiful silence.

Too bad there are still some gnawing questions inside me demanding to be answered. They are caged animals fighting and scratching to be known.

"So, did everything with Ryk and Tressandra go okay?" I ask, Ezra nods. His lemon colored eyes seem overworked in the dim room. He sighs.

"Yes, but only as well as can be expected. Veiler wants Ryk to join his pack with us, be his Delta, and he agreed. He's giving us information on the Red Alpha." He tells me. I try to smile, but I can't. My lips won't listen to me. I press them together. They will just have to remain as straight as a board.

I'm glad at the idea of Tressandra finding happiness. She really does deserve it after all this time. Her past is dirty, but that doesn't mean she can't wash it clean and have a fresh start.

Everyone deserves a second chance. If not, Ezra and I never would've found each other.

"And Alpha Green? Is he leading the pack, or is he hiding in his office like usual?" I wonder out loud with a heavy dose of bitterness in my tone.

There's a drawn out quiet that floats in the air. My mate is as still as a statue on the edge of the bed. Ezra takes a deep breath before he finally speaks.

"Your Alpha is dead." The words shock me and I stare at my mate. His attention is focused solely on me as he runs a hand through his thick, red locks. I bite my lip, trying to process what I now know.

Alpha Green is dead. The werewolf who had tortured me for years is actually gone for good. Just like that.

I sit down next to Ezra and take a minute in my own head. I can't believe he's really gone. It's too good to be true.

"You're sure?" I ask, and he nods mutely. He grabs for my hand and I give it to him. I stare at our connection with a warm feeling building.

Physical touch with the male I love helps calm me.

"I saw it myself. The son of a bitch got what he deserved." He smooths my fingers with his own. "What happened to your skin, sweetheart?"

I glance at the angry marks covering my limbs. Of course he would notice, my mate is only the sweetest person in this whole pack, not to mention he's on the more observant side.

"There was... there was blood. There was so much blood. I had to get it off."

Ezra sighs and shakes his head. He runs his palms gently over my arms and then pulls my hands to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to each of my wrists. The nasty scars from my imprisonment only remind me how amazing it was that the tyrant that ran this pack is finally finished.

"Well. It's gone now. All the blood is gone, sweetie. No need to worry your pretty little head about that. We'll be far away from here soon enough." He says and I raise my eyebrows.

"You mean Montana? You took the job?" I press, a bit of excitement finally coming around after the attack. I can't fathom leaving West Virginia after all these years. I've never stepped foot out of the state. As much as I love my home state, at times it feels like a literal prison keeping me nailed down.

Now that we don't have a dictator controlling our lives, anyone can do what they want. We aren't under his thumb anymore.

We are free, but we are destroyed.

"Something like that, yes." He responds, a sly grin on his otherwise tired face. Ezra squeezes my hand in his.

All of a sudden, a little thing pops into my brain and blurts out of my mouth.

"What about Thorn? Where is he? Did he survive?" I press, scooting closer.

My mate looks stressed now, his beautifully handsome features turning hard in the light from the lamp on the nightstand. Ezra's dark shirt strains against the lines of his muscles under the fabric.

"We don't know. He disappeared without a single trace, Klepto. He's gone." Anger grips me quickly and my breath picks up, oxygen washing out of my chest in short pants.

"You don't think that he had something to do with the attack, do you?" I ask. Ezra's expression turns grim. His hand slithers away from mine as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Most likely." He gives me a worried, measured glance seeing if I'm about to fall apart at the news, but the fury building in my chest just grew stronger.

Maybe I will fall apart. It seems like a reasonable time to do so.

"I'm glad he's gone. Good riddance." I mumble, and my mate growls beside me.

"I'm not. We should find the bastard and take him down." He says and I nod, not really wanting to start an argument. It won't be easy. I'm feeling very argumentative at the moment with the high amount of strain going on inside me.

I'm stressed, grieving, and mad. It isn't what I would call a great combination.

"It'll all be behind us soon. We're leaving for Montana in a day or two." He says it so casually, so nonchalant about it. My mouth drops open at the revelation.

"So we're just going to leave my pack without an Alpha?" I demand, my eyebrows scrunching up tight as I glare at my lycan love like he's grown another head.

He can't be serious, he just can't be!

"Sweetheart, there's no way we can choose an Alpha for your pack in time. They'll have to sort it out themselves. Nathan has refused the role. He says he's not ready, that he doesn't want it, not that we'd let him have it. There's no candidate that I'm aware of, unless you have some ideas." He says, and I try to leash back my whirlwind of emotions.

I cannot just fly off the handle like that. I can't not lose control.

My mind flutters to my Father as he collapsed to the ground. I wince and blink away the tears that threaten to be unfurled.

My Father would've made a great Alpha.

I think and think about all the werewolves in our pack and who has the skill set to make a leader worth appointing. There aren't many options as Ezra said, but I know he doesn't want to leave this pack Alphaless. It wouldn't be right, especially after all that has happened.

I start to reflect more and more until a little lightbulb goes off inside my skull, covering my brain in a burst of warm light.

"I have an idea."

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