Chapter 19

Chapter 19
Nyra 
The breakroom smells like bad coffee and chemical cleaner. I don’t sit. I linger near the vending machine, pretending to study my options, even though I’m not hungry. Conversations here are never loud, never casual. Everything is said in undertones, beneath breath or behind cupped palms. Two men near the table speak just low enough to think no one listens. “...buried him so far down, they’re scared shitless of what he is.” “The alpha?” A grunt. “They say he ripped through Sublevel Two last month. Had to move him. Level Three’s basically a vault.” 

I reach for a packet of something I won’t eat and step away. The hairs on my arms rise—not from fear, but from the deep, vibrating recognition I’ve come to associate with him. The alpha. Rane. I walk the halls slower than usual. Time bends oddly when I think about him—my pace shifts, the air thickens, thoughts spiral. I have duties now, partial clearance, assignments trickling in. But nothing compares to the pull that drags me back to his wall every night. Or near it. I’ve never crossed the line. Only sat outside it. Listening. Whispering. Needing. 

Later, in the surveillance room, I’m alone for a few minutes. The feed for his cell stays black. No signal. No sound. Just static. They don’t even bother labeling the cell. Just a flickering box on the grid, always blank. Footsteps behind me break the silence. I don’t look. Not until I hear him speak. 

“You know that feed’s always down, right?” a voice says.

I turn. It’s Cassian. He’s not quite a handler—still in training, like me—but close enough. Young, tall, watchful. Dark curls tucked under his cap. He usually keeps to himself. But lately, I’ve felt his eyes linger too long when I pass. I thought it was curiosity. Now I’m not so sure. He nods toward the blacked-out screen. 

“No one sees anything on it,” he says, quieter now. “It’s not broken. It’s just… restricted.” 

I say nothing. He shrugs, steps in beside me. Leans against the console but keeps his tone careful. Like this is a favor. 

“My uncle’s in upper operations,” he says. “I shouldn’t say anything.” 

I don’t prompt him. Maybe that’s why he continues. 

“That cell? It belongs to the alpha. The last one.” 

My breath stops. 

“They keep him down there because they have nowhere else to put him. Sublevel Two didn’t work. Too many incidents. Too many risks.”  He shifts his weight. His voice drops lower.  “Something happened a few weeks ago. No one really talks about it, but it was bad. They tried to shift his sedation cycle—wanted to see if they could get more data.” 

“More data?” I echo softly. 

Cassian glances at me. “They’ve been trying to induce rut in him for decades. Think about the profit margin if it worked. He’s an alpha. Pure. Unaltered. Not a single enhancement. Imagine the bidding price on that kind of session.” 

I don’t need to imagine it. I’ve seen the prices for ordinary omegas when they’re in heat. I know what the high-tier clients pay. But Rane isn’t ordinary. 

“He never responded to the drugs,” Cassian goes on. “Not once. Whatever they used, it either did nothing or sent him into full rage. So they stopped trying.” 

I stare at the monitor. The blank feed hums like a secret no one wants to touch. Cassian clears his throat. 

“They tried to kill him,” he says finally. “More than once. Quietly. Accidents. Injections. Containment failures. Doesn’t matter. He survived everything.” 

A chill runs up my spine. 

“They gave up after the third attempt. Said it wasn’t worth the fallout. No way to spin it if they messed up and he got out.” 

I still haven’t said a word. My hands rest lightly on the edge of the desk, but my knuckles are white. 

“They captured him sixty years ago. He’s been there ever since.” 

I blink. Cassian gives a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Looks young, right? But you know what they say about wolves. Especially ranked ones.” 

I nod slowly. I’ve always known they aged differently.  

“He doesn’t do anything now. Just lies there, mostly. Doesn’t eat much. Doesn’t speak. Took them a while but they finally found a cocktail that keeps him heavily sedated. Most of the time at least. Unpredictable as hell when he’s not. But lately—” Cassian pauses, eyes narrowing. “—he’s been quiet. Ever since the transfer.” 

My stomach tightens. A low, anxious beat behind my ribs. 

“They think it was the right call,” Cassian continues. “Down there, he’s less of a risk. Less contact. No sound. No one to agitate him.”
No one. Except me. I keep my expression blank. “Why are you telling me this?” 

Cassian shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem... different. You’re always watching that feed like you expect it to light up. Most people just ignore it. Pretend he doesn’t exist.”  He hesitates. “You’re not scared of him, are you?” 

I look at the blank screen. 

“No.” 

He watches me another few seconds, then backs away. “You didn’t hear any of that from me.” 

I nod. “I didn’t.” 

And then he’s gone. I wait another ten minutes before I move. Just long enough to process the static of his words. 
Sixty years. 
The last alpha. 
Tried to kill him. Failed. 
Never been in rut. Never responded. 
And now he’s calm. 

I don’t go to the stairwell that night. I can’t. My body is buzzing too loudly. My thoughts spin with too much weight. I walk the halls instead, slow and restless, counting the fluorescent panels in the ceiling like I can calculate the distance between us. 
He is buried. 
He is watched. 
He is contained. 
But not forgotten. 
Not by me. 

They call him the alpha. That’s all they know. They see a classification, a danger, a failure of containment. But I know the shape of his name in my mouth. I’ve whispered it in the dark. I’ve said it into my pillow, into my palm, into the hollow silence beyond the stairwell door. Rane. I think of the girl, weeks ago, moaning while two men pushed into her body like she was a vessel for their pleasure. I think of the gamma, gritting his teeth while five women took turns on him, his voice hoarse with protest he couldn’t enforce. And I think of Rane—alone. Untouched. Unclaimed. Unbroken. There’s a power in that. And danger. And maybe something holy. 

When I finally return to my quarters, I peel off my uniform slowly, as if each layer carries meaning I haven’t yet named. And as sleep pulls me under, my last thought is of him— 
The last alpha. 
No rut. No heirs. No future. 
Just a sealed cell on Sublevel Three. 
And me. 
Always me.