Upon stepping out of Katharina's room, Alexander slowly descended the stairs, his expression unreadable.
Just before he reached the bottom, he caught sight of Jaxon coming in from outside. Coming to a stop, Alexander asked with a slight frown, "Has training ended?"
"Of course not. It's barely been an hour since It started. How could it be over so quickly?"
Alexander said nothing after he finished, but Jaxon easily read the unspoken question on his face: Then what are you doing here?
Instead of answering, Jaxon's gaze shifted to the untouched tray Alexander was holding. A playful smile flashed in his eyes as he tucked his hands casually into his pocket.
"Let me guess—she finally snapped at you?"
Alexander remained silent. But Jaxon had known him long enough to discern that his silence was as good as acknowledgement.
He snorted.
"I knew this would happen sooner or later. You've been poking a bear with a stick, and that bear just happens to be undead royalty."
"I was only trying to figure her out, trying to get her to open up. With her apathetic personality, if I don't take the initiative, we'll remain at a standstill."
"Still, you could have been more patient and taken things a little slower. You're not usually the impulsive type, so why are you being so rash this time?"
Alexander pursed his lips, then turned and headed to the kitchen, leaving the untouched tray on the counter. After instructing Maria—the cook—to prepare a simple breakfast, he came back and addressed Jaxon.
"Let's talk in the library."
Walls have ears.
Among supernatural races, that wasn't just an idiom—it was a fact.
Werewolves were trained from birth to rein in their heightened senses—particularly around familiar people—as a matter of respect and privacy. But curiosity was a powerful thing, and the risk of someone eavesdropping, whether intentionally or not, could never be entirely ruled out.
Then there was Katharina.
He still had no idea just how far the range of her hearing was.
All this meant that the rest of the conversation needed to happen somewhere far more private.
…
Behind the bookcase in the library, was a hidden, soundproof room. Inside, the space was bare and utilitarian, furnished with nothing but a large conference table and a solitary wooden cabinet.
Alexander took the seat at the head, while Jaxon sat to his left.
Breaking the silence, Jaxon leaned forward.
Alexander rubbed his temples, a weary look on his face.
"You're right—I'm rarely this impatient. But Jax… I can't help it. Lately, I've been having these nightmares. They're blurry and disjointed, but the stench of blood—metallic and overwhelming—always lingers after I wake up."
"My guts says it has to do with prophecy."
Jaxon's face tightened.
"Werewolves rarely dream. And when they do, it usually means one thing—an omen. Yours doesn't sound like a good one."
"Because it isn't. It's a bad omen, Jax."
Despite having already suspected as much, hearing Alexander say it out loud made Jaxon's heart sink.
"I can sense that…" Alexander continued in a solemn tone. "...the day the prophecy comes to pass isn't far off."
He exhaled sharply, frustration gradually taking over.
"But what have I accomplished? Nothing. All these years we've tried to investigate the origin of the 'cursed monstrosities' mentioned in the prophecy, hoping it would give us a head start. And what was the result? Not a single clue in sight. Absolutely nothing."
"Now the other name mentioned in the prophecy has finally awakened. I thought that would be the turning point. That, maybe, we'd finally get somewhere."
"But she's distant. Apathetic. Cold. I'm afraid the moment I tell her about the prophecy, she'll retreat back into the crypt."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't even know how long her curiosity about modern technology will keep her here. So tell me, Jax—how can I not be anxious? How can I not be impatient?"
"I want to wring out every bit of information she knows, figure out what role she's meant to play in fulfilling the prophecy, and let her go back to sleeping for eternity."
Jaxon had been quietly listening, letting Alexander vent his frustration. As his Beta, he knew better than anyone how heavy the burden on his Alpha's shoulders was. Sometimes, he worried that the weight of it might crush or suffocate him.
But something about the last part of Alexander's words made him pause.
Alexander wasn't the type to give up easily, especially not when it came to something this important. Moreover, with all the effort he'd poured into keeping her here, why was he suddenly so eager to send her away? And not just send her away, but use a phrase as final as 'for eternity.'
Jaxon narrowed his eyes.
"You're hiding something from me. Something that concerns you and her."
Alexander visibly tensed, then sighed a beat later, as though giving up the fight.
"I found my fated mate."
"... seriously?" Jaxon blinked, monetarily caught off guard. Then, a grin broke out in his face, "That's great news!"
He meant it. Fated mates have always been a rare find, so knowing his best friend was among the lucky few filled him with excitement.
"Who is—?"
But before he could say 'she,' realization struck. He froze, then sat upright.
No way!
The concept of fated mates had existed in werewolf lore since time immemorial, but very few ever actually found theirs. Most werewolves settled for partners they felt drawn to—or ones arranged by their families. For instance, his parents were the former, while Alexander's parents were the latter.
But that wasn't important right now.
Back to the real issue…
No. It couldn't be.
Jaxon shook his head, stubbornly rejecting the thought.
But a slow, reluctant nod from Alexander was all it took to shatter his self-delusion.
Katharina?
A two-thousand-year-old vampire queen?
Jaxon shot to his feet and began pacing.
This sounded like a bad joke.
But Alexander was neither careless, nor sloppy. He wouldn't speak of something so absurd unless he was relatively sure of it.
Still, he stubbornly held on to a glimmer of hope as he stopped to ask, "Are you sure? Maybe you misread and got it wrong?"
Alexander's brows knitted into a tight frown, his voice low and exhausted. "I wish that were the case But Ace recognized her. There's no mistake."
Ace. Alexander's wolf.
That left no room for denial.
Jaxon sat back down, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Alexander continued quietly. "The first time I met her in the crypt, I felt this strange pull. At first, I thought she'd used some kind of bewitching spell. But then Ace called her 'that.'"
"Even then, I didn't believe it. I also thought that it might be a mistake, so I went through every old record in the manor, searching for a similar case. Something that might help me fix whatever went wrong."
"But you didn't find one, did you?" Jaxon asked, his tone downcast.
Alexander shook his head. "No. Fated mates have always been between werewolves. The only exception I came across was a single case… where a werewolf's mate was human."
"A human?" Jaxon's curiosity was spiked. "And what happened? Did they get together?"
"No. The werewolf rejected her."
Jaxon perked up, until Alexander added faintly.
"He died of heartbreak half a year later."