L*st and Death

Crime scenes weren’t unfamiliar to Anna.

Back when she’d just graduated from trainee status and earned her badge as a rookie officer, she used to follow senior detectives to the scene and help collect evidence with fervent dedication. But whether it was because of her foul temper—or the fact that she kept digging into her parents’ deaths and caught the attention of someone upstairs—Anna was soon “quarantined” to the traffic division.

Measuring noise levels, catching speeders, monitoring seat belt violations, DUI checks and drug testing—none of it suited her. Besides, Linhart Station, where she was posted, was one of the rare peaceful districts within crime-ridden Baggers City. Violent crimes were few and far between.

Yet despite her tranquil beat, Anna longed for higher tension, more destructive cases. That didn’t mean she ever wished for her only family—Lewis, her brother, a recognizable face from the screen—to become a suspect.

Maybe the downpour had washed away the grime on the road, but the footprints on the white tiles were faint. Still, it was clear that many people had passed through overnight.

I’m a cop... Do I really have to call the police?

No, she couldn’t. She hadn’t even decided whether to manipulate and bury the case—or track down and arrest Lewis.

Anna quickly scanned her surroundings, but saw no visible security cameras. She took a few photos with her phone, then boldly stepped inside the restaurant.

The place was a mess. Whether it had been a burglar or just the aftermath of Lewis’s rampage, nearly all the cooking tools were gone. Even the storage room in the back had been cleaned out.

As she swept her flashlight through the dining hall, something caught her eye. A blood smear, hastily wiped with tissue. Someone had tried to clean up, but hadn’t been thorough.

Anna entered the kitchen, pulled out a tissue and a ziplock bag, and carefully collected the blood sample. A wave of dizziness hit her. She hoped the blood belonged to Lewis. If he’d been stopped before the assault, beaten to hell and dumped in the street—she could live with that.

“Hey! Who’s there!”

The sudden shout made Anna flinch. Instinctively, she aimed her flashlight at the voice like a drawn gun.

“Gah!”

Blinded by the light, the man staggered backward, covering his face with his hands. Anna reflexively reached for her right hip for a pistol—then remembered she was in plainclothes. She widened the distance.

“Who are you!”

“Who am I? I’m the owner of this place! Who the hell are you?”

Anna, flustered, lowered her flashlight to the floor.

“I’m a police officer.”

“Police?”

Ikbal, holding a baseball bat, flinched and quickly lowered the weapon. He knew better than to threaten a cop.

Still catching his breath, Ikbal asked, voice uncertain and tinged with fear:

“Are you really... a cop? How am I supposed to believe that?”

Anna had no partner nearby, no squad car with flashing lights. She hadn’t shown her badge. She was wearing flashy jeans with seams at the knees and a tight white T-shirt with a huge print of a rock band’s face on it.

“Anna McCarthy, traffic unit, Linhart Police Station. I passed by and thought it looked like a crime scene, so I came inside.”

Towering over six feet, with a broad frame, chest like a melon, a full sleeve tattoo on her left arm and piercings crowding her ears—Ikbal stared awkwardly at the muscular woman who looked more like a wild mustang than a cop. She didn’t seem official at all. But her voice carried an authority that couldn't be questioned.

“My employee called earlier and said a robber broke in.”

Anna stepped toward him, intimidating.

“Employee? Someone was on shift?”

“Yeah. He was cleaning up after closing.”

“Where is he now? Is he okay?”

“He, uh, said he ran home scared, but he’s not hurt. He called me maybe... half an hour ago.”

The tight knot in her chest unraveled. Anna braced herself on the counter, feeling her knees weaken. She offered silent thanks to a god she didn’t even believe in.

“Haah... thank god nothing happened.”

“‘Nothing happened’? Can’t you see the place was robbed? Are you blind? Are you even going to catch the guy?”

Anna let Ikbal’s grumbling roll off her like water. Just the fact that there wasn’t a rape victim made her want to laugh from relief. But the smile she nearly released slowly faded.

If that blood in her pocket didn’t belong to the victim—then whose was it?

Where the hell had Lewis gone?

There was no time to waste. She had to find him. And quietly.

Anna fished a business card from her pocket. It had her name, department, title—and even her photo.

She handed it to Ikbal and said:

“I’ll handle the damage compensation.”

Ikbal took the card, comparing the photo with her face. He looked reluctant.

“Officer... why would you...”

“I think it was a family member. He’s got a... compulsive theft issue.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s just consider the case closed with compensation, shall we?”

“Why the hell should I—?”

Anna leaned in boldly, getting uncomfortably close. She beamed, baring all her teeth in a cheerful, fake grin.

“I’m up for promotion. Don’t you want to help out?”

She put exaggerated stress on each word, her eyes wide and blazing.

In this rotten city of Baggers, where corrupt and incompetent cops were a dime a dozen, at least she was trying. Compared to the empty-headed officers who left cases to rot, Anna McCarthy—self-proclaimed furious woman—was a damn superhero. She wasn’t asking for a bribe. She was offering compensation in exchange for silence.

---

The screech of tires skidding across asphalt. The violent pain of a body hurled into humid air. Screams rising from the coastal road. And then—an eerie silence, like death.

After a long pause came the crooked voice of a man, laughing.

“Wake up. It’s time to be reborn as an Alpha.”

A cold hand slapped his cheek—and Lewis’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t groggy. He knew instantly he’d been dreaming. The same dream he’d had multiple times since becoming an Alpha.

But this one felt... different.

It hurt. Like he’d actually been slapped. Rubbing his cheek, Lewis realized it wasn’t just his face. He hurt everywhere. Head to toe, his whole body ached like it had been shattered and reassembled.

And the bed beneath him was soaked with blood.

“What the fuck...”

He forced himself up and stumbled to the mirror.

What stared back was a wreck barely clinging to life. His hands and wrists were torn and bleeding, his swollen face puffed up like a balloon. Staring in horror, he tried to recall what happened before he’d blacked out.

But every thought popped like bubbles before they could form.

Suddenly, it was like a seizure. His mind couldn’t handle the chaos.

Even birdsong outside grated like car horns. The lavender diffuser’s soft scent hit like spilled acid. The world was so vividly loud and bright it felt like he’d go blind. The pulse of energy and particles all around overwhelmed him—and Lewis collapsed to the floor.

This wasn’t how things were yesterday. Just for a moment yesterday, he’d been lucid. Why? What had changed?

Struggling to gather the scattered fragments of memory, he saw a face.

Every line of that face was delicate, mysterious. Those black eyes sparkled like a galaxy in the dark. His skin was like a drop of rose watercolor on white canvas. His red lips, pouty and sullen, looked like a gateway to temptation. Lewis wanted to push through and taste the fruit inside.

Only one thing disappointed him: that face belonged to a man.

And yet... he was beautiful. Lewis had never been one to call a man beautiful. But he couldn’t deny it. Not this time. Not when he’d asked him for a number first.

“No. I’m never going to meet you again.”

Why? Why would someone say that to a guy like me? We could’ve at least been friends.

Lewis had always been called a boringly handsome type—like the bad-boy quarterback in a teen drama. On screen he might seem greasy, but in person, his looks were striking enough that no one ever refused him.

Since becoming an Alpha, with his larger frame and god-of-war build, even he was entranced by his own reflection.

And yet that man had looked at him with disgust. Fled the urology clinic like he couldn’t stand to breathe the same air.

Urology clinic?

One thought opened the floodgates. His memory expanded.

He’d been beaten nearly to death by some alpha, restrained like a criminal, and woken up in a shady urology clinic.

Because he’d tried to rape someone.

He couldn’t remember it. But in a rut cycle? He could have done something that insane.

Rut cycle. Lewis finally remembered—he’d been locked in the panic room, deep in heat.

Panic room?

Like a madman, he ran out of the room and down the stairs. The panic room door was wide open. The lock had been smashed.

Staring at it, Lewis realized the truth.

He couldn’t control his rut.

His strength had shattered the reinforced locks. And while burning through heat, his mind had evaporated like alcohol. He felt like a sleepwalking serial killer.

It was terrifying. And yet—he felt no guilt.

That’s what disturbed him most.

It was like someone had transplanted a psychopath’s ego into his body.

“So this... is what being an Alpha means?”

If so, maybe Alphas should never have existed.

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