CHAPTER 52: HALF DEAD.

Alexander’s POV

I couldn’t feel my arms or legs.

Everything was heavy—too heavy. It took a long, dragging moment before my eyes finally opened. The parts of my body that weren’t completely numb throbbed with a dull, hot pain.

"Oh, you’re awake."

The voice wasn’t Louis. It didn’t even try to be gentle. Cold. Amused. Wrong.

My heart lurched painfully against my ribs.

I tried to move—my fingers, my toes, anything—but nothing obeyed.

"Don’t bother," the voice said, footsteps approaching. "It’ll take a while before you can feel everything again. Louis overdid it this time."

Louis...?

A wave of panic washed through me, sharp enough to cut through the numbness.

"What... happened?" My voice cracked, sounding too small, too weak.

A low chuckle.

"You really don’t remember? Interesting."

A shadow shifted into my blurry view, leaning close enough that I felt breath against my ear.

"You should’ve stayed where he put you."

"Who are you?" I asked. My voice didn’t even sound like mine—rough, weak, barely pushed out of my throat.

"I’m Bill," he replied, far too casually for someone standing over a half-paralyzed Alpha. "Louis’ assistant... though honestly?" He leaned back, grinning like this was all entertainment. "I’m more like his father’s only way of keeping tabs on him."

He chuckled, low and pleased with himself.

My stomach twisted.

Louis’ father.

Of course.

I tried to lift my head, but it felt like gravity had been multiplied just for me.

"What... do you want?"

Bill crouched, tilting his head as if inspecting something fragile.

"Want? Nothing from you personally." His smile sharpened. "I’m just here to remind Louis that no matter how much he plays house... someone is always watching."

My chest tightened—not just from fear, but from something colder, heavier.

Because Louis wouldn’t have left me like this.

Which meant something was wrong.

Very wrong.

"Unfortunately, you caught his father’s eye. Otherwise he would’ve killed you already." Bill said it like gossip, like he was discussing the weather.

"I mean—look at you." He chuckled, hands in his pockets. "You look half-dead."

His words hit harder than the pain in my body.

Half-dead.

Wanted dead.

Saved only because someone worse had an interest.

I swallowed, or tried to. My throat felt like gravel.

"What... what does he want with me?" I whispered.

Bill smirked. "Want? Who knows? Maybe he’s curious. Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he just wants to see what kind of person could make Louis lose control."

He leaned closer.

"But whatever the reason... you being alive right now? That’s not luck. That’s ownership."

A cold shiver ran through me—one I couldn’t physically hide.

"But at this rate," Bill continued, shrugging like it was all a harmless joke, "the old man is already late if he wants to control Louis now. My loyalty is only to him."

Only to Louis.

The words didn’t comfort me—they made the air feel heavier.

I stared at him, forcing my eyes to focus, forcing my voice to come out.

"Then... why am I here?"

Bill smiled, slow and almost pitying.

"Because Louis doesn’t know what to do with you." He tapped a finger against the side of his head. "You make him think. You make him hesitate. And Louis doesn’t hesitate for anyone."

He leaned back, folding his arms.

"So I’m keeping you alive until he figures out whether he wants to protect you... or burn the entire world down because of you."

My breath caught.

Because for the first time, I couldn’t tell which one he would choose.

"And we need someone to keep tabs on his father," Bill added, as if this was a simple errand and not a life-or-death tug-of-war between two monsters. "Louis trusted him, you know. But now..." He clicked his tongue. "Now that the old man wants his undoing? That possibility is finally feasible."

My breath hitched.

Louis... trusted him?

Bill’s expression cooled, the amusement fading for a moment.

"Louis is dangerous. You already know that. But his father?" He shook his head. "That man doesn’t care who he breaks to get what he wants. Even Louis."

Something cold settled in my stomach.

"So what does that have to do with me?" I murmured, even though I already knew the answer would ruin whatever calm I had left.

Bill smirked.

"You’re leverage. You’re a weakness. You’re a reminder. And honestly?" He lifted a brow. "You’re the perfect bait."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

Bait.

For Louis.

And for the man trying to destroy him.

Bill straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves like he didn’t just sentence me to the middle of their war.

"Don’t worry," he said casually. "I’ll keep you alive. Louis would kill me if I didn’t."

A faint scent hit me each time he leaned in—warm, sharp, unmistakable.

Sweat... and something sweeter beneath it.

"You smell like an omega," I muttered before I could stop myself.

His boot connected with my stomach so fast I didn’t even see him move. Pain exploded through my ribs, and the air was ripped out of my lungs.

Bill clicked his tongue.

"Unfortunately, I am," he said, as if the word itself offended him.

He crouched again, meeting my eyes with a cold, steady glare.

"But I’m better than most Alphas."

His voice held no arrogance—just truth. A fact he had lived, bled, and survived to prove.

He leaned closer, his scent brushing against me again, deliberate this time.

"Omega doesn’t mean weak," he said quietly. "It means underestimated."

He tapped two fingers lightly against my forehead.

"And people who are underestimated? They’re the most dangerous ones in the room."

I swallowed, the pain and the truth sinking into my bones at the same time.

Bill stood up, dusting off his hands.

"Louis knows that," he added. "His father doesn’t."

He glanced toward the door.

"And that’s why this whole mess is about to get very interesting."

"Rest up," Bill said, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve as if he hadn’t just kicked the breath out of me. "Louis’ father will be here soon."

A cold weight settled in my chest.

Behave.

Louis’ father.

Here.

Bill leaned down, his lips curling into a lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Behave," he repeated softly, "or you might really die. And I don’t want that."

His tone dipped, playful in the worst way.

"You’re such a good toy."

My stomach twisted—anger, humiliation, fear, all tangled together.

Toy.

I forced myself to lift my head, even though it felt like lifting a boulder.

"You—"

"Shh." He put a finger to his lips, amused.

"Don’t strain yourself. You’ll need your strength if you want to survive a conversation with that man."

He turned away, his footsteps echoing across the room—calm, unhurried, like someone who knew no one could touch him here.

The door creaked open.

His voice drifted back one last time.

"Try not to die before Louis gets here. He’d be upset—mostly with me."

The door shut.

And the silence that followed was somehow worse than his presence.

Even through the pain, all I could think of was Charles.

Where he was.

If he was safe.

If he was scared.

He was my knight in shining armor... even though I had known him far longer than he had known me.

I met him when I was eleven.

Back then, I was painfully shy — the kind of quiet that came from fear, not gentleness. I barely spoke in class. I barely looked people in the eye. Home was never peaceful. My parents were always arguing, voices crashing into each other like thunder, and my father... my father was a jerk in the most unforgivable way.

He beat my mother.

Sometimes behind closed doors.

Sometimes where everyone could see.

He liked humiliation more than fists.

I learned early how to disappear into myself. How to make my presence small. How to breathe quietly so I wouldn’t attract attention.

And then there was Charles.

He transferred into my class in the middle of the term. New uniform. New shoes. Too bright for a place as dull and cruel as that school. He sat two rows ahead of me. I remember thinking his hair looked like it had captured sunlight — ridiculous, maybe, but it was the first warm thought I’d had in a long time.

On his first day, a group of older boys cornered me behind the gym.

They called me weak.

Quiet.

Useless.

I didn’t fight back. I never did.

I remember the sound of my backpack hitting the floor. The taste of blood on my tongue. I remember staring at the concrete and thinking, This is normal. This is just how the world works.

Then a voice shattered through it.

"Get away from him."

Clear. Sharp. Furious.

The boys laughed at first.

Until Charles stepped closer.

He wasn’t the biggest. He wasn’t the strongest. But something in his eyes made them hesitate — something fearless, something that didn’t know how to bend.

He stood between me and them like he’d been doing it his whole life.

And they left.

Grumbling. Mocking. But they left.

I never thanked him properly. I didn’t know how. My voice wouldn’t come out. My hands shook too badly.

But from that day on, he always walked past my desk. Always waited near the gate. Always looked back to make sure I was there.

He didn’t know he was saving me.

He thought he was just being nice.

And I... I started living for the moments I saw him smile.

My chest tightened painfully in the present.

Eleven years old.

Too young to understand love.

Old enough to understand safety.

Charles was the first place I ever felt safe.

And now—

Now I was lying half-paralyzed in a room that smelled like power and threat, with Louis’ shadow looming over my life like a storm I couldn’t outrun.

My jaw clenched as the memory faded.

I survived that house.

I survived that man.

I will survive this.

But fear still coiled in my gut.

Because this time...

It wasn’t just my life at risk.

It was Charles’.