Chapter 51 Chapter 51

Chapter 51 Chapter 51
The whiskey bottle was half-empty when Luke entered the living room, though he suspected it had been full an hour ago. Stetson sat slumped in the leather armchair by the window, his usual commanding presence reduced to something hollow and broken. His dark hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, and his eyes—those intense eyes that could make pack members submit with a single glance—were unfocused and red-rimmed.
Three days. It had only been three days since Zarlia left, and Stetson was already destroying himself.
Luke sighed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The Alpha's penthouse, usually immaculate, was a disaster. Empty bottles littered the coffee table, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and despair.
"The board called again," Luke said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence. "They need you to sign off on the merger documents."
Stetson took another drink, not bothering to respond.
"Stetson."
"You handle it." The Alpha's voice was rough, scraped raw. "That's what I pay you for, isn't it?"
Luke's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He'd been handling everything for three days—the company, the pack business, the increasingly concerned calls from board members who couldn't understand why their CEO had suddenly gone ghost. He didn't mind the work. What bothered him was watching his best friend, his Alpha, his brother in all but blood, fall apart like this.
"Drinking yourself into oblivion won't bring her back," Luke said, moving further into the room.
"I'm not trying to bring her back." Stetson laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet space. "I'm trying to forget why she left in the first place."
But that was a lie, and they both knew it. Stetson knew exactly why Zarlia had run—because she was terrified. Terrified of the pack, of their laws, of what it meant to be bound to an Alpha in a world she didn't understand. He'd seen it in her eyes that last morning, the way she'd looked at him like he was both her salvation and her damnation.
He'd known she would run. He just hadn't expected it to hurt this much.
"Luke?"
Both men turned to find Mimi standing in the hallway entrance, wrapped in an oversized sweater that nearly swallowed her small frame. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes, and she moved gingerly—the wounds from the attack still healing despite her werewolf metabolism.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked softly, her gaze fixed on her brother with worry etched across her features.
Luke's expression remained stoic, but something flickered in his eyes as he looked at her. "I'm not sure," he admitted, the honesty surprising even himself. "This is what love does to a person."
Mimi wrapped her arms around herself, remembering how Stetson had looked when he'd found her and Zarlia that night—the raw terror in his face, the way his hands had shaken as they'd carried her to safety. Their father had finally made good on his threats. The pack members he'd sent had been thorough, brutal. If Stetson and Luke had arrived even five minutes later...
She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on her brother's current state. "You mean he might do something stupid."
"Exactly." Luke's voice was dry. "You and your brother have a talent for making questionable decisions when intoxicated."
Mimi's cheeks flushed, and she looked away quickly. "Are you talking about the kiss?"
The question hung in the air between them, sharp and unexpected. Luke's stoic mask didn't crack, he was used to not showing emotions.
"I'm surprised you remember," he said carefully, his tone deliberately neutral. "You were fairly drunk."
"I wasn't that drunk," Mimi muttered, still not meeting his eyes.
The silence stretched between them, loaded with things unsaid. Luke remembered that night with perfect clarity—Mimi stumbling as he'd guided her to her room, her hand clutching his arm, the way she'd looked up at him with those wide hazel eyes and said, "You know, you're actually really attractive when you're not being so serious all the time."
And then she'd kissed him. Not quite on the lips, but close enough that he'd felt the warmth of her mouth against the corner of his, close enough to sense the teenage nuisance.
He'd pulled away immediately, of course. Told himself she was drunk, that she was Stetson's little sister, that she was nineteen and he had no business feeling anything for her at all.
But he didn’t feel anything and that was the problem because he could tell she had a bit of interest in him.
"I only care about you because you're Stetson's sister," Luke said finally like it was the icing on the cake of heartbreak.
Mimi's head snapped up, her eyes flashing with hurt before she quickly masked it with indifference. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. "Whatever. You're too old for me anyway."
Twenty-five and nineteen. Six years. In the werewolf world, it was nothing—she'd seen mattings with decades between them. But she latched onto the excuse like a lifeline, something to hide behind, a reason not to examine the strange flutter in her chest whenever Luke was nearby.
She wasn't sure how she felt about him. Didn't want to be sure. Not when everything else in her life was falling apart—her father trying to kill her, her blog that had caused all this trouble, Zarlia gone, her brother drowning in whiskey and heartbreak.
A loud crash made them both jump. Stetson had tried to stand and knocked over the side table, sending another bottle shattering across the hardwood floor.
"That's my cue," Luke muttered, moving forward with practiced efficiency.
Stetson was mumbling something incoherent as Luke hauled him up, supporting most of his weight. The Alpha had finally drunk himself past consciousness, his head lolling against Luke's shoulder.
"Come on, you idiot," Luke said, though his voice was gentle. "Let's get you to bed."
Mimi watched as Luke half-carried, half-dragged her brother toward his bedroom. Despite everything—the drinking, the mess, the darkness consuming him—Stetson still looked lost. Like a part of him had left with Zarlia and he didn't know how to function with that piece missing.
This is what love does, she thought, Luke's earlier words echoing in her mind.
Twenty minutes later, Luke emerged from Stetson's room, closing the door quietly behind him. He found Mimi curled up on the couch, trying to look casual but wincing slightly with the movement.
"Your bandages need changing," he observed.
"I can do it myself—"
"Sit still."
His tone left no room for argument. Mimi bit her lip but stayed put as Luke retrieved the first aid kit, his movements efficient and practiced. He'd been doing this for three days now, checking her wounds, making sure infection hadn't set in despite her accelerated healing.
He peeled away the old bandages carefully, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so stoic. The claw marks across her ribs were healing, but slowly. Silver-tipped weapons always left their mark, took longer to fade.
"They were trying to make an example of you," Luke said quietly as he cleaned the wounds. "Your father wanted the pack to see what happens when someone breaks the old laws."
"The old laws are barbaric," Mimi said through gritted teeth. "Werewolves hiding in the shadows, pretending we don't exist, killing anyone who threatens to expose us—it's medieval."
"It's survival." Luke applied fresh bandages with careful precision. "Right or wrong, it's kept our kind alive for centuries."
"And it almost got me killed." Mimi's voice was bitter. "Would have, if you and Stetson hadn't—" She stopped, swallowing hard.
Luke's hands paused for just a moment. "You're safe now. That's what matters."
He finished with the bandages and helped her adjust her sweater, his fingers lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary on her shoulder before he pulled away, that stoic mask firmly back in place.
"Get some rest," he said, gathering up the medical supplies. "I'll be here if you need anything."
"Where are you going?"
"Just outside for a smoke."
The night air was cold against Luke's face as he stepped onto the balcony, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter. He took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, trying to clear his head of everything—Stetson's breakdown, Mimi's injuries, the ghost of that kiss that shouldn't mean anything but somehow did.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his recent searches with practiced ease. It had taken him less than an hour to find her—Caroline Martinez, Zarlia's best friend. Her Instagram was public, filled with aesthetic photos of Vancouver, coffee shops, sunset views over False Creek.
It had taken another thirty minutes to get her phone number through less public means. Luke had connections, resources that most people didn't. Being a packless wolf meant learning how to survive on your own, how to gather information, how to protect the few people you actually cared about.
He saved the number in his contacts under a neutral name, then opened a new message thread. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he locked the phone and pocketed it.
Not yet. He'd wait, watch from a distance. Make sure Zarlia was safe, make sure she wasn't planning to do anything that might hurt Stetson further. He owed his Alpha that much.
The city lights stretched out before him, thousands of lives playing out in the darkness. Somewhere out there, across the country, Zarlia was starting over. Running from a love she didn't understand, from a world that terrified her, from a man who would burn down everything to keep her safe if she'd just let him.
Luke took another drag of his cigarette, the ember glowing bright in the darkness.
This is what love does, he thought again, watching the smoke curl into the night air. It destroys you. Makes you reckless. Makes you stupid.
It was one thing he promised himself never to do—fall in love, especially not with a human.
His phone felt heavy in his pocket, Caroline's number already memorized.
Makes you do whatever it takes to protect the people who matter.
Even if they didn't know you were watching.
Even if they'd run if they knew how far you'd go.
Luke crushed the cigarette under his heel and headed back inside, leaving the night and its secrets behind him.