Bad Boy Alphas

11.1 | Let's Begin (REPRISE)

Blood soaked Luna's hands.

Traces of tepid warmth slipped away from her shaky, scarlet fingers, the presence of Ingrid's flesh evaporating by the second. Chills stabbed into her bony frame, scattering up her jolted spine. Shallow breaths echoed, the erratic rhythm of her pulse a relentless wardrum that roared through every fiber in her being.

Ingrid.

Goddess of the Night. Mother of Vampires. The Judge of Shadows.

Luna's throat went tight, seized with a silent scream, before she sank to her knees in a pile of disjointed limbs. Choked sobs erupted from within after collapsing in a sea of her best friend's blood.

"You made me do this..." Tears pricked her sapphire eyes, a wet and heavy pressure flooding her angular cheekbones; her voice cracked and quaked, burning raw with despair. "You made me do this, Ingrid."

The corpse sprawled out before her, a mutilated blur of disheveled, dark hair and gore, said nothing as she– as it stared back with gouged out eye sockets. Gaping holes of flesh and bone peered straight through Luna, fresh proof of her wretched actions.

The past still dwelled with stark clarity, even in her dreams.

Especially in her dreams.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Jax makes sure to swing by the greenhouse one last time before his departure to Blood Moon—and fuck it if Cyrus Pierce has to be the one to witness him hugging Dad goodbye.

He can feel the gaunt stature of Dad's body as he squeezes him for a full-bodied embrace. He's thinner nowadays, proving that he needs more meat to his bones. Less gardening, more sleeping. Hell, he's retired. He better act like it.

"I can't tell you to not get into trouble," Dad says, a tender smile dimpling his face, "because you've already done too good of a job with that." He chuckles, a light and airy sound. "But stay safe. Just try to behave, at least?"

Meanwhile, Cyrus tries to stifle a snort of disbelief in the background. Key word: tries. He's too damn loud for his own good.

"For my sake," Dad adds, painfully hopeful and bright. As bright as the yellow flowers that he's always so fond of.

Jax frowns, petulant. "Fine."

The lie comes out a little too smoothly. It's only a lie because Cyrus is involved. He can't promise to behave around him, not really.

Regardless, Dad doesn't need to worry. Jax will still find ways to create a better world for him to live in. A world where Grave Shadow conquers all and betas like Dad can be more at ease.

Where stupid social rankings don't matter because fuck the hierarchy. Fuck pack norms. Fuck everything. Alpha, beta, omega—they will be equal under his authority, his order, and his family.

He'll rule his way. He'll show them all.

Before heading out, Jax stops by the shrine room down the corridor next to the back door. With Cyrus tailing after him, they enter the home altar dedicated to Mom. The air is still. A collection of faded out photographs, framed atop a metal platform illuminated by wilting wax candles, surge into view.

Jax grabs one of the photos, a picture of Mom sharing a smile with Dad, and takes a moment to reminisce.

He allows himself to be whisked away by the passage of time, spiraling down memory lane, as he recalls the delicate hums of her melodies whenever she would wash the dishes or prepare for dinner. He remembers the kisses she'd plant on his forehead, the bedtime tales that she'd recite to him about Luna every night, and the way she'd reach down to hug him after work from the factory.

"Um, so..." Cyrus sneaks a glance over at the photo of Mom in Jax's hand, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "Is this, like, a relative or–"

"My mom's dead," Jax explains, cutting straight to the point. No reason to hide the inevitable now. "She died when I was ten."

"Oh," comes Cyrus's reply. Short and stiff. Then, he clears his throat, a question already slipping out halfway. "How did she– never mind. You don't gotta talk about it if you don't wanna."

Jax knows what he wanted to ask.

How did she die?

His face hardens, morphing into a determined glower. "Vampires," is all he says, spitting the word out with all the hatred he can muster.

Because that's the truth. He doesn't elaborate more on that. Not yet.

"Ah."

This time, Cyrus doesn't pry. Instead, he turns his head to the side, suddenly hushed. Jax doesn't bother to look further into that either. It's not easy to have this conversation in the first place.

With his attention back onto the image in hand, he stares at Mom one last time before pressing a goodbye kiss on her face, like he always does every time he's here.

"See you soon, Mom."

Gently, he sets the picture down, back in its original resting place on her altar, and bids her farewell. And if his eyes are slightly damp, even after all these years, Cyrus doesn't comment on it.