Chapter 14 Between Teeth And Mercy #2
Cody was the first to step into view, all easy swagger and sunlit charm. His hair was a tousled mess that somehow worked, and his grin came fast: wide, disarming, the kind that said he probably got away with everything and knew it.
Beside him moved Kyle, his mirror image in bone structure but not in demeanor.
Where Cody radiated casual confidence, Kyle was all sharp lines and precision.
His posture was military-straight, his expression unreadable, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the alley like it was a battlefield.
The only real difference between them was the tension; Cody carried none, and Kyle looked like he was made of it.
Cody gave a low whistle at the mess. “Damn, Cross. When you go big, you really go big.”
“Shut up, Cody,” Aiden said, but there was no real heat in it.
Kyle ignored the banter and swept the alley with a predatory gaze, locking onto me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “Is she alive?” he asked Aiden, nodding at the woman sprawled unconscious on the pavement, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Aiden shook his head. “Yeah. We got here in time.”
Kyle grunted approval and knelt beside her, scanning the scene with a sharp focus. “She’s hurt pretty bad,” he reported. “But we can stabilize her.”
“Do what you need to,” Aiden said firmly. “Just make sure she doesn’t bleed out.”
They moved instantly, a blur of coordinated action as they rushed to assess her injuries. Cody shot me a quick salute as he passed by, his grin infectious despite the grimness of our surroundings.
“Nice work, ma’am. Not many people would run toward that chaos.” I almost flipped him off, but I was too drained to lift my hand.
Aiden turned to me, his expression unusually sincere amidst the turmoil. “You were never supposed to see this, Josie. I’m sorry you got dragged into it, truly.”
I snorted derisively. “You know, at this point, I’d rather have the truth than another apology.”
He hesitated for a moment before responding. “You’ll get it. I promise, just…not right now.”
I tried to summon some anger, but felt hollow instead. “So now what? Amnesia potion? Convenient concussion?”
His smile was tinged with sadness. “Nope. You get to go home, hold your son, and sleep in your own bed while we handle this mess.”
The rain slowed to a light drizzle; city sounds crept back into focus around us like an unwelcome reminder of normalcy. For a fleeting second, I almost believed him.
“Come on,” he urged gently, nodding toward the street ahead. “I’ll drive you home.”
I followed him out of the alley and into the dim calm of early morning light filtering through clouds heavy with rainwater. Aiden hit the key fob, and the sleek black SUV across the street chirped in response. He strode ahead and opened the passenger door with a quiet flourish.
Inside smelled like leather mixed with something wild, a hint of wolf lingering in the air as he started the engine and pulled away without uttering a word.
“Are you hurt?” My voice cracked on the last word as my eyes locked on the blood smeared across his neck. My fingers itched to reach for him, to check, to do something.
Aiden met my gaze for half a second, long enough for me to see the tightness behind his eyes, before looking away. “It’ll heal,” he muttered, but the way his jaw clenched told me he wasn’t talking about just the wound.
We drove several blocks in silence; buildings blurred past us as I stared out into nothingness until curiosity took over again.
“What was that thing?” I finally ventured.
He fell silent for what felt like an eternity before answering quietly, “I don’t know…never seen anything like it.”
I let the silence stretch, the question tasting like glass on my tongue before I finally asked, “And your pack? That’s who you really answer to?”
A smirk tugged at his mouth, but his eyes stayed guarded. “More or less,” he said.
I leaned in slightly, voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “Do they know about Mateo?”
His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “No,” he said, voice clipped. “And they’re not going to.”
The way he stared ahead made it clear: this wasn’t just about secrecy. It was about survival.
We lapsed back into silence for the rest of our journey; Aiden stopped in front of my building, where headlights illuminated chipped marble steps leading up towards sagging lobby awnings above us, while he switched off the engine and sat there quietly with his hands resting in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly again, this time more genuine than before, as if trying to bridge some chasm between us created by tonight’s events.
I opened my door slowly but paused just long enough to glance back at him one last time: “If you ever want to try honesty,” I said pointedly, “I’ll be here.”
He nodded once, then shifted gears before driving off into dawn’s hazy embrace, where taillights disappeared amid awakening shadows around us.
I let myself into the building, climbed the stairs to our apartment, and keyed in as quietly as I could. Inside, the ceiling fan whirred softly overhead, its blades slicing through the stillness, and everything felt so achingly normal it stung.
I tiptoed into Mateo’s room, half expecting him to be awake, but he slept on, mouth open, hair splayed over the pillow, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and sure.
I touched his cheek, just to feel the living warmth.
I could still smell the alley on my hands: blood, rain, fear.
I washed them twice before bed, but I knew it would take more than that to get them clean.
After a shower so hot it left my skin pink and raw, I padded into Mateo’s room again. He wasn’t crying. He was sitting up. Sheets twisted around his waist, shoulders tense, staring at the dark like it had insulted him.
He startled when he noticed me.
“I’m fine,” he said immediately. Too fast.
“You were talking.”
He looked annoyed. “I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
After a beat, he exhaled through his nose.
“It was just a dream.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Want to tell me?”
He hesitated. That pre-teen calculation, deciding whether vulnerability was worth the risk.
“…It was weird,” he admitted finally. “There was this river. But it wasn’t water. It was light. Like… blinding. And loud.”
His hands twisted in the sheets.
“They kept telling me to go in.”
“Who’s they?”
He swallowed. His jaw tightened.
“A lady. The one with the dark hair and eyes just like yours.” His gaze flicked up to me. “She says her name is Annipe, and sometimes she calls me Matheios.”
That hit differently.
“She said I had a key. And if I didn’t use it, you’d…” He stopped.
“Do what?”
“Doesn’t matter.” His voice went sharp. Defensive. “It’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb.”
He looked away. “She said if I didn’t go into the river, they’d come for you instead.”
Silence stretched between us. He didn’t cry. He didn’t cling.
He just said quietly, “You’re not going anywhere, right?”
I reached for his hand instead of pulling him into a hug.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Even if the river comes for me, I’ll fight my way back to you.”
He studied my face like he was trying to fact-check me.
“…Okay.” He lay back down but didn’t close his eyes right away. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“If something weird starts happening… you’ll tell me, right? You won’t treat me like I’m little?”
There it was, the weight of his eleven years pressing down on us.
“I promise, I won’t treat you like you’re little.”
He gave a single nod, a small but significant gesture, before finally turning onto his side.
I thought about Aiden, about the monster in the alley, about the strange people in Neon’s VIP, and the Council that policed secrets with claws and fangs.
Mostly, I thought about Mateo, the river of light, and the key he was supposed to carry.
The future hung over us like a sword, shimmering and terrible.
I tucked him in, kissed his hair, and whispered a promise into the dark.
Whatever came for us next, I’d be ready.
Because nobody, not a monster, not a Council, not the whole damned river, was going to take my son from me.
Not ever.