chapter 148
William's POV:
The fluorescent lights of Moontouch Medical Center's pharmacy corridor buzzed overhead as I reviewed the prescription forms in my hand.
Charlotte's injury, Susan's cold silence, the weight of twenty-two years pressing down on every interaction.
I needed to pick up the pain medication for Charlotte before heading back to Sullivan territory.
She protected Susan, my wolf reminded me quietly. As you always do.
I turned the corner toward the pharmacy wing.
Voices cut through my thoughts. Sharp. Angry.
I slowed my pace, my Alpha instincts immediately alert to conflict.
"—calling you for days! Why haven't you answered?" An older woman's voice, trembling with emotion and exhaustion.
"Why would I answer?" The response came cold, bitter. A voice I recognized—Hannah Sullivan. "Why would I care about her illness? Just let me know when she's dead.
I stopped at the corridor junction, just out of sight. My wolf bristled at the venom in those words.
"You—" The older woman's voice cracked. "Hannah! You are such a disappointment!"
There was a long pause. I could hear ragged breathing, the sound of someone fighting back tears.
"From now on," the older woman said, her voice breaking completely, "I don't have a daughter!"
Footsteps. Quick, retreating. Hannah's voice, flat and cold: "Whatever you say."
I waited a moment, then stepped around the corner.
An elderly woman stood near the pharmacy counter, one hand pressed against the wall for support. Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. Silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun. The set of her shoulders, even in distress...
My wolf stirred, alert.
That scent.
Faint. Altered by time and circumstance. But underneath the years, underneath everything else, there was something achingly familiar.
The woman turned slightly, reaching for her prescription bag.
My breath caught.
Those eyes. Even from this distance, even after all this time.
Impossible.
"Eileen?" The name escaped before I could stop it.
She froze. Her entire body went rigid, the prescription bag slipping from her fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud, pills rattling inside their containers.
We stood there, separated by perhaps fifteen feet of sterile hospital corridor, staring at each other across a chasm of twenty-two years.
She looked older, of course. The silver in her hair, the lines around her eyes. But she was unmistakable.
"Alpha William." Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
I moved forward slowly, my Alpha senses on high alert, reading every micro-expression on her face. Fear. Guilt. And underneath it all, a bone-deep exhaustion.
"Didn't I warn you?" My voice came out cold, sharp as a blade. "Didn't I make it explicitly clear that you were never to set foot in Moonhaven center again?"
Eileen flinched, taking an instinctive step backward. Her shoulders hunched as if bracing for a physical blow.
"I—I had no choice, Alpha William." Her words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "Anna, my granddaughter—she's sick. The treatment she needs, it's only available here at Moontouch Medical Center. I swear we'll leave as soon as she's well enough to travel. We won't cause any trouble. Please—"
The argument she had with Hanna just now flashed through my mind.
"Hannah is your daughter?" I said it coldly, watching her face carefully.
The color drained from her cheeks. She nodded, barely perceptible.
My mind raced, connecting pieces.
Hannah Sullivan—or rather, Hannah who'd married into the Price family. I'd known her, years ago. Before the accident. Before everything fell apart.
At that time, she didn't even have this name yet. Her name was Frost.
She'd changed so much that I hadn't recognized her.
And Hanna was Tori's mother, which meant—
"Tori." The name came out sharper than I intended. "She is —"
"Please!" Eileen's voice cracked. She took a stumbling step forward, hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Please, Alpha William. Don't go after Tori. She's just a child. A suffering child who knows nothing. She doesn't know about any of this. She's innocent. Please—"
"Innocent?" The word came out cold, harder than I intended.
My wolf snarled inside me, remembering. Always remembering.
"My daughter was innocent too," I said, my voice dropping to something dangerous. "She was barely a year old when she died in that accident. "
Eileen's legs seemed to give out. She grabbed the wall for support, tears streaming down her face.
I turned on my heel and walked away.
"Alpha William, please—" Her broken voice followed me down the corridor.
I didn't look back.
At the pharmacy counter, I collected Charlotte's prescription and handed it to a passing nurse. "Deliver this to the VIP wing, room 304. Charlotte Shepherd."
"Of course, Alpha William."
I strode toward the exit, my mind already moving past emotion into cold calculation. Once outside in the parking lot, I pulled out my phone and dialed.
"Leo." My Beta answered on the first ring, as always.
"Alpha. How can I assist?"
"The health screening at Lunar Phase Research Institute tomorrow. I need you to personally oversee it."
A pause. Leo knew me well enough to hear what I wasn't saying.
"Of course. Is there something specific you need me to monitor?"
"There's a student. Tori Sullivan." I kept my voice neutral, professional. "I need a blood sample collected during the standard screening."
"Understood, Alpha. I'll handle it personally."
I ended the call and leaned back in the car seat, my expression heavy with conflicting emotions.
I didn't even know why I needed to confirm whether Tori was my daughter. Given my attitude toward that child all these years—the child I was accused of fathering through an affair—I should have been doing everything in my power to make her life in Moonhaven unbearable. To drive her out.
Not going through all this trouble to obtain Tori's DNA sample.
What will you do if it's confirmed? my wolf asked quietly.
I didn't know.
I had no answer. No plan. One thing was certain, though.
Susan couldn't know.
She hated me enough already. Twenty-two years of accusations, of cold silences, of a bond that had withered into nothing more than a legal formality.
If the test confirmed that Tori carried my bloodline—that the affair had been real, that the child had survived—Susan would never forgive me. Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime.