Raegan Northland

Blue Ridge Clan

-

Raegan shifted in her seat, barely aware of the motion as Axl’s voice washed over her. That smooth southern drawl had always been her weakness, lulling, rich, and dangerously easy to listen to. She wasn’t sure what it was about him—every word seemed to sink into her skin like warm honey. Another crash of pins echoed through the bowling alley, shaking the floor beneath her boots. She winced, the noise grating against her sensitive hearing, but her attention barely wavered. Instead, she watched him. The way the dim glow of the alley lights caught in his hair, how his golden eyes gleamed with unspoken amusement, the smirk that teased at the corners of his lips. It was infuriating how someone so effortlessly charming could be the same person who had nearly killed her.

They had been inseparable once. Years ago, when they were just reckless teenagers wrapped up in a feud they hadn’t fully understood. Their friendship had been forbidden, a fragile, secret thing that neither of them had any business maintaining. Even now, the details of how they’d met were blurred around the edges—some sort of formal gathering between their clans, a meeting to discuss business or territory or whatever else their leaders found important. The King clan, powerful and ruthless, had their claws in nearly every industry imaginable, their empire growing by the day. Axl’s father had just crossed the billion-dollar mark back then, a milestone that had put every rival faction on high alert.

Her own clan, the Blue Ridge wolves, couldn’t have been more different. They lived off the land, their community isolated, self-sustaining, untouched by the greed of human civilization. Their village was hidden in the folds of the mountains, an old-world sanctuary where their kind thrived in secrecy. Outsiders passed through without a second glance, never realizing the town was home to something other than humans. Even their hospital, discreetly run by werewolves, only accepted patients from their own kind. Humans were unpredictable, dangerous, and if they ever uncovered the truth, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The feud between their clans stretched back centuries, though Raegan still didn’t understand the root of it. What she did know was that the rising media attention on the King name had sent ripples of unease through her people. The risk of exposure had never been higher, and all it would take was one mistake, one wrong move, for everything to come crashing down.

That meeting all those years ago had been a failure, at least politically. The King clan had arrived with their high-ranking officials, Axl in tow despite being just a kid at the time. He had been thinner then, all sharp angles and attitude, dragged along more as an afterthought than anything else. They had stayed the night, an act of forced hospitality, and in the way that reckless teenage boys do, the younger members of her clan had decided to make Axl their target.

She couldn’t remember exactly how it started, but she knew how it ended. He had been lured outside under the guise of camaraderie, only to be jumped the second he was alone. They had left him there, bruised and bleeding, just for the fun of it. He had looked so... betrayed.

Raegan had been the only one who stayed behind. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was the creeping realization that if he went back and told his father what had happened, the consequences would be severe. Either way, she had patched him up, and somehow, from that night on, they had remained close.

That was why it had never made sense to her. The Axl she had known, the boy who had once sat with her under the stars and promised her things neither of them could have, wasn’t the same man who had nearly ended her life.

Yet, the scars on her throat told a different story.

The memory was razor-sharp. The way his hands had pinned her down, the way his golden eyes burned with rage, the moment his claws sliced through her skin. She could still feel the blood flooding her throat, the raw agony of gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He had wanted her dead. No hesitation. No regret.

And yet, here they were.

She didn’t trust him. Not entirely. And she sure as hell didn’t let him touch her. No handshakes, no high-fives, no accidental brushes of skin. Even now, as they sat across from each other, she kept her distance.

Her fingers ghosted over the thin scars at her jugular before she pulled herself back to the present, flashing him a halfhearted grin. “I never mean to be late, you know,” she mused, her tone light but laced with something unreadable. “Some of us actually have work to do, princess. Not all of us are drowning in gold like you.”

His beer barely earned a glance from her before she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “And you're still drinking piss.” She huffed, crossing her arms. You may as well drink your own piss. It didn’t even get you drunk. Why not drink something that tastes good and gets you drunk? Or, better yet, shots. She’d never understand it. At least with vodka you could make it taste like coke. Or a martini. Although, she couldn’t for the life of her see Axl drinking something so sweet and cutesy.

Her gaze flickered toward the bowling lanes—the very same ones she knew he had personally funded—and an eager glint sparked in her eyes. She grabbed her drink and stood, already anticipating the outcome of a game she had never once won. “Who knows, maybe tonight’s the night I finally destroy your winning streak.”

She shot him a smug look before turning toward their usual lane, knowing full well she didn’t stand a chance. But winning wasn’t the point. The game was just another thing that tethered them together, another night spent in each other’s orbit, pretending that the past didn’t still claw at their heels.

-

(Yeah, I was assuming so xD we can always circle back around to when it happened, if that makes it any more interesing!)

Raegan Northland

Blue Ridge Clan

-

Raegan swirled her drink idly, eyes scanning the bar while she waited for him to show up. It was packed tonight. Not surprising—this place was a known spot, especially for their kind. Just far enough outside the city, just secluded enough to keep trouble from spilling over into the wrong hands. That didn’t mean things didn’t get out of control. They always did. And when a fight broke out in a place like this, it wasn’t the typical drunken brawl. She’d seen humans go toe-to-toe with werewolves before. It never ended well. It was too easy to overpower them. She’d held her own against full-grown Marines before, so she knew firsthand how quickly things could escalate. When a human threw a punch at a wolf, they usually didn’t walk away—not unless it was in the back of an ambulance, or worse.

So, everyone had to keep themselves in check. No claws. No shifting. No slipping up. Booze made that harder. And humans weren’t stupid—they noticed the unnatural glint of sharpened teeth, the stretch of fingers turning into something else. One wrong move, one shift under the wrong eyes, and suddenly the whole bar had a problem. That’s why they watched each other’s backs. If someone started losing control, you stepped in. You pulled them aside. You kept an eye on their drinks. You made sure they didn’t do something that would bring the whole place down.

It didn’t always work.

Which is why, when she looked back at Axl and saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his shoulders bunched like he was barely holding something in, she felt that creeping sense of unease crawl up her spine.

“Axl?” Her voice was quiet but firm as she leaned slightly forward, one hand resting on the table, the other gripping her glass. Her bag was still slung over her shoulder, like she might need to leave in a hurry. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Just stood there, the tension in his muscles so tight it looked painful. And then—he snapped. Or flipped. Or had some sort of quarter-life crisis that required immediate therapy. Who knew?

She stayed frozen, her body rigid, unwilling to move too much in case it set him off. No, she wasn’t going to give him a reason to lash out. She’d already been on the receiving end of that before, and she sure as hell wasn’t going through it again.

She didn’t breathe until he put the chair back under the table. Her shoulders relaxed—just slightly. He muttered something, but it wasn’t in English. She recognized the cadence, though. German. He did that sometimes. Slipped between languages like they were one and the same. It was so distinctly Jager of him. He repeated himself, and she exhaled slowly. The sharp panic in her eyes softened, though she still wasn’t entirely at ease.

“No, it’s... fine,” she murmured, her expression shifting into something cautious, something questioning. Was it fine? Absolutely not. But she wasn’t about to poke at a fresh wound. Instead, she studied him—really studied him. His breathing was too shallow. His hands were still curled into fists, like he needed to hold onto something solid to keep himself from unraveling. He looked—terrified.

He looked like her.

That realization made something in her stomach twist.

His eyes sharpened, though, and that—oddly—reassured her. It meant he was grounding himself. Good. When he tried to push past it, acting like nothing had happened, she furrowed her brows. If he needed a minute, he could take it. He didn’t need to force himself into normalcy. But... maybe he wanted to. Maybe he needed this night to just be something simple.

“Well, your occasional gold bars could probably buy you a full-time, live-in therapist,” she mused, her lips quirking into a teasing smirk. Lighthearted. A distraction. That’s what they needed, right? “And, from the looks of it, you need one. Badly.”

She followed him to the bowling lanes, humming absentmindedly under her breath as they grabbed their shoes. The overwhelming chemical scent made her wrinkle her nose, but she sighed and shoved them on anyway. Bowling shoes were the worst. They always fit weird. Who the hell decided a six-and-a-half should feel like a damn clown shoe? She grumbled something unintelligible before grabbing a ball, testing its weight.

Then she caught the way he looked at her, the smirk tugging at his lips.

She snorted. “Keep your bitter piss to yourself, Jager.” Her voice was playful, light, purposefully brushing past whatever had just happened. “I don’t know how you drink that crap. It does nothing but make you bloated.”

Her father had been a drinker. Cheap beer, mostly. It never made him angry, but it never made him happy either. Just... hollow. She never understood the appeal. Why sit through three cans of garbage just to feel something?

She took a long sip of her own drink, exhaling in satisfaction. The first night she and Axl had met up again after—everything—she’d downed at least four vodka cokes and a round of Jägerbombs before he finally told her to stop. She hadn’t gotten sloppy, but she’d been... buzzy. Just enough to keep the nerves at bay. If she’d been sober, she probably wouldn’t have even shown up. And if she had, she would’ve spent the entire time on the verge of tears.

They hadn’t talked about it. Not really. She never asked him why he did what he did, and he never outright apologized. That was a problem for another time. Right now, they just had to figure out how to be around each other again.

And, honestly? She liked being around him. Too much.

What do you mean, she checked her phone all morning, waiting to see if he wanted to meet up? What do you mean, she left work early just to catch the bus to whatever quiet bar he chose? What do you mean, these couple of hours with him felt like the best part of her day?

Yeah. She didn’t know, either.

“Wipe that cocky smirk off your face, Mr. Jager,” she huffed, standing up as if preparing for battle. She cradled the bowling ball in her hands, almost willing it to cooperate.

He bowled first. And when the pins crashed down in a perfect strike, she felt her face fall.

She groaned. “Unbelievable.” He was reveling in it, and—yeah, okay, maybe the way he said things in that smooth, accented drawl was enough to make her stomach flip, but she was absolutely not giving him that satisfaction.

She stepped up, gripping her ball, eyes locked on the pins. She was determined. She was focused. She was—

Oh.

The ball shot forward with impressive speed, hitting the front pin dead-on. It wobbled. She held her breath. It tipped. A chain reaction—five of them tumbled over. She groaned, flopping dramatically to the side like she couldn’t bear to look. “This is rigged.”

“There’s still four rounds left,” she pointed out, brushing past him with a sly grin. “Plenty of time for me to distract you from hitting your pins!"

And she would. One way or another.

Raegan Northland

Blue Ridge Clan

-

The young woman watched him closely as he waited for his turn on the alley, the sound of the machines pulling the pins back into place ringing in her ears. He still looked a little tense, but the longer they played, the more he started to ease up. She could see it in the way his shoulders gradually relaxed, the way his fingers stopped flexing so tightly at his sides. Still, she couldn’t quite decipher what had caused his outburst. Everyone had their thing, so to speak, but she had never seen him react like that before. Not to anything, really. She didn’t know what could cause a man like Axl to have that kind of moment, especially when they had been in the middle of a completely normal conversation. A lighthearted one, even. Most of their conversations were like that, full of teasing and easy banter, only ever dipping into something serious when one of them needed it. She liked it that way. It was a good balance. They both had too much going on to linger on heavy topics for long.

She was always working, whether it was in the hospital or within her clan, and he—well, he had his father’s empire looming over his head. She never had to ask to know that weighed on him. The expectations, the pressure. She’d never liked the man, not since the moment she set eyes on him as a teenager. There was something about him that unsettled her, something about the way he spoke, the way he maneuvered through people like they were nothing more than tools. She didn’t trust a single thing that came out of his mouth.

Not in the way she trusted his son at least, and he’d nearly damn well killed her.

The thought amused her in a twisted sort of way. How could someone hurt her so badly, and yet, she could still learn to trust them? Maybe it wasn’t trust, maybe it was just acceptance. The past was the past, and they had both grown since then. They had bigger things to worry about, things that took priority over dwelling on old wounds, no matter how much they had shaped them. Raegan had always been fairly mild-mannered—she helped where she could, and she never had much of a temper. Instead, she was quiet, careful, wary. She struggled around people, especially men. But not with Axl. And that was the strangest part of all.

Because he was the reason she had learned to be wary in the first place.

For years, she had always made sure she knew where the Jagers were. It wasn’t out of curiosity. It was out of fear. She hadn’t wanted to be within a ten-mile radius of him. She didn’t know why he’d wanted to hurt her, but he had, and she had spent years wondering if he even knew she had survived. If he’d come back to finish what he started. He never did, thank God, but that didn’t mean she ever truly let her guard down. People talked. Especially in their feuding community, especially about families like his. She always heard things, things about their business, their power. And all of it had terrified her.

Despite all of that, despite the constant need to push the past away, she still felt like she had some sort of duty to make sure he was okay. Maybe because he had always been the one to reach out. He was the one who asked her to come out, the one who asked about her day and scolded her for being late. The one who had done everything in his power to make sure she felt comfortable around him, even when she knew he didn’t have to. So, at the very least, she could make sure he wasn’t unraveling.

She watched him for a moment before offering him a small, playful smile, tilting her head slightly. “No, don’t be an asshat. It’s fine. I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re all fine,” she mused lightly, looking back down at the bowling ball as it rolled back onto the rack. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, her voice casual, but softer. “You can talk to me, you know. If you need help getting a hold of… whatever it is you need to get a hold of, I’m here.”

A small chuckle escaped her, and she closed her eyes briefly, as if in thought. “I’m on route to be a shrink at this point anyway. You know how many people I deal with screaming and crying at me on a daily basis? Your little outburst was nothing,” she teased, her cheeks puffing slightly as she grinned.

But she left it there. She wasn’t here to pry into his life. She wasn’t here to drag things out of him or force him to talk about whatever was eating away at him. They were here to reconcile, weren’t they? That was what she was trying to convince herself. She wasn’t here to be his counselor, and he wasn’t here to weigh her down. They were just… figuring things out.

Or maybe they were trying to fix each other.

She didn’t even know why he wanted to be here. What on earth he was playing at, coming out with her, she had no clue. Maybe he was trying to make himself feel better. Maybe this was his way of lessening the burden of what he had done to her. Not that she even knew if he remembered it all that well. It had been years ago. A full moon. Maybe he wasn’t even himself when it happened.

“Beer? Yeah, no. It doesn’t even get you where you want to be,” she mused, taking a slow sip from her straw. She jumped up then, balancing the bowling ball in one hand while holding her drink in the other. “And my fruity crap does,” she chirped, extending the glass toward him. “Look, try that.”

He still looked… distant. She could never quite read him, never figure out what he was thinking. She had never been able to, not really. “Whiskey?” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Oh no, what have I done? Whatever could have possibly caused the great Axl Jager to switch to his moody drink?” She chuckled slightly, rolling her eyes.

She didn’t know how his drinking habits worked, exactly. She only knew when she didn’t want to be too close to him, and often, the drink sitting next to him told her everything she needed to know. But she had also noticed… it never quite applied to her. He could be in the foulest mood with everyone else, and somehow, he would still come back to crack a joke at her. She had never really understood why.

His smirk grew, that perfect little laugh of his slipping past his lips, and something inside her fluttered before she could shove it down. She grinned back at him without thinking, her amusement spilling over. “If you’re not careful,” she warned, poking his ribs lightly as he walked past, “I’ll return you to your manufacturer.”

She barely even touched him. The contact was fleeting, barely there. She didn’t like touch—more specifically, his touch—but she had always enjoyed prodding at his ribs just to prove her point. “There has to be a reset button somewhere,” she added, tilting her head in exaggerated curiosity, as if genuinely trying to figure it out.

She watched as he squared up in front of the alley, planning his throw. His shoulders tensed slightly, his right leg pumped forward, and he released the ball. She squinted, watching as one pin stayed standing, unmoving. Her grin stretched wider. “There goes your perfect streak,” she teased, slipping her fingers into the ball, taking his place. “No celebration this time?”

She turned back to the lane, taking a step back before swinging the ball forward with more force. She held her breath as it hit the second pin with a loud crash, and for a moment, she worried—until they started falling like dominoes. She let out an ecstatic laugh, but it came with a wheeze, her breath hitching in her throat.

It happened sometimes. A lingering side effect of what had happened all those years ago. It didn’t bother her much anymore.

She spun around, hands on her hips, grinning. “No, no, don’t build a new one. At least let me beat your ass here first.”

Then she raised a brow. “Really? Impossible to distract you?” She smirked.

“We’ll see about that.”

She knew bettet than most that the chances of winning were low - after all, like he said, he was supreme bowling champion. Well, she let him call himself that, anyway, especially since his name was on the socres list, and had been since the place had open.

Raegan Northland

Blue Ridge Clan

-

Raegan watched his demeanor as he took his place on the court. Something about him always seemed a little off. She’d always noticed how he kept his distance—not in a way that was obvious, but in a way that left her space. He never stepped closer when she moved, never pushed boundaries. He treated her as if the slightest touch would ignite his skin and burn his bones to ash. And honestly? It wasn’t far from the truth. Because if he laid a finger on her again, she would track him down and set him on fire herself. If, by some miracle, he managed to kill her first, her mother would make sure he was next. And if her mother failed? Well, then her sister was on the way.

That woman could cause some serious damage.

Despite the growing comfort between them, the memories never truly left. The way she had choked on her own blood, the way her vision had blurred as her face drained blue. She remembered the terror, the absolute certainty that she was going to die. His face had been the last thing she expected to see in her final moments. Furious, shadowed by the full moon’s glow like some unholy halo. His attack had come so suddenly, so viciously, that she hadn’t even had time to process it. One second, she had been standing there, ready to crack a joke about running late. The next, she was on the ground, his weight pinning her down, his claws glinting in the moonlight. She had tried to reason with him at first. She had pleaded, her voice raw with desperation, asking him what was wrong, if he needed help, if—

She never got to finish the sentence.

She had felt the slice before she had understood what was happening. The way her throat had opened up like paper, the cold air rushing in, stinging and sharp. She had swallowed, had tried to breathe, only to feel her own blood flood her lungs. The pain had been unbearable, but the cold? The cold had almost been soothing. A quiet, eerie kind of comfort. It would’ve been so easy to just lie there, to let it happen. But she couldn’t do that. Her family was waiting for her. Her father was waiting for her.

She had dragged herself back home, choking and sputtering, her hand pressed tightly against the gaping wound in her throat. She had collapsed at the entrance of her clan’s territory, and the moment they saw the blood soaking her white top, the scolding stopped. Panic replaced anger, and suddenly, everyone was moving. Sedatives. Stitching. Clearing her lungs. The memory blurred into darkness, but she remembered waking up with a tube in her throat. Six months before she could breathe on her own again. A year before she could speak properly. Even now, excitement or exertion made her breath catch, made her throat hitch in a way that she had long since grown used to.

It was terrifying, yes. What had happened to her was horrific. But it was also kind of funny, in a twisted way.

One day, she’d be able to sit her future children down and tell them that their mother had once had her throat slit by a now-multi-billionaire (because let’s be real, that was where he was headed), and now they were best friends.

Cool as fuck.

She glanced back at him, rolling her eyes. No, she probably couldn’t fix whatever was going on in his head, but the way his shoulders sagged, the way his jaw clenched when he thought too hard—it made her want to try. “I believe you just fine,” she mused, offering him a small, knowing smile. “But I’m here if you wanna talk about it.” Her voice softened slightly. “It’s obvious something’s on your mind. You’re not the best at hiding it.” She knew why he kept his distance. She didn’t even try to hide it from him. The way she always stood just a little too far away, the way she froze at unexpected movements—he noticed. Of course, he did. His outburst earlier had startled her, but he hadn’t been trying to hurt her. She knew that.

“My patients aren’t my friends either, and you’re not hurting me now,” she reassured, glancing around the room. A chuckle escaped her as she gestured toward the half-drunken crowd. “And, look, everyone’s too pissed to even notice you now.”

She watched him carefully as he responded, humming in thought at his contradiction. “Fine, to me, means no one got hurt and everyone is safe. So, again, we’re all fine.” She spoke in the same soothing tone she used at the hospital, the kind meant to calm people even when things were anything but fine.

His next comment, though, earned an amused scoff. She didn’t know where he wanted to be, not really. Maybe nowhere. Maybe just anywhere but here, in his own head. She knew what drinking did for people. It made them forget, dulled the sharp edges of things. She shrugged, offering a small smile. “I’m assuming you want to be at a point where you can just breathe.”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter when he took a sip of her drink, spluttering like she had just poisoned him. “It’s just cranberry, calm down, princess,” she teased, watching with a wide grin. “It’s not that bad! Better than drinking piss, anyway. Oh, wait—you city folk love the stench, huh? Addicts pissing in the corners all day long. You probably crave it so much that when you taste anything with actual flavor, you have a meltdown.” She smirked as he settled, picking her glass back up and taking an exaggerated sip. “Talk about an overreaction.”

At the mention of beer, she wrinkled her nose. “I hardly complained about it. You’re the one that brought it up,” she pointed out, watching in relief as he finished the last of it. She hated the smell, the taste, even the way people looked when they drank it. When he bowed dramatically, she tilted her chin up in mock-regal fashion. “Thank you, good sir. I can sleep easy knowing the last thing you drank wasn’t that piss-water excuse for a drink.”

She sipped on her own drink quietly as he walked away, her gaze lingering. She still didn’t know why he was here, why he chose to spend time with her despite everything. Their clans were still at war, and she had made it very clear to her own people exactly who had nearly killed her. Friendship was still forbidden. And yet, here they were. Her mother would kill him if given the chance.

Hell, she probably still would, too.

She giggled as he shielded his ribs, wiggling a playful finger at him. “Malfunction even more? What, like you’ll just sit there grinning at me all evening?” Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “Who knows? I might press it when you’re not looking. Since I can’t find the reset button, I’ll just have to poke around and find out.”

Her laughter turned into a small gasp at his next comment. “That’s not true!” she protested, though the rattle in her throat betrayed her amusement. She stood from her chair, throwing her arms out dramatically. “I’m perfect, so it can’t be true.” She dropped her hands, walking toward the lane.

She groaned as he landed yet another perfect strike. “Please, I think the whole place is rigged. Your ball could roll sideways, and you’d still get a strike. They probably have sensors tracking when you’re here, waiting for their cut of those gold bars you love so much.”

She rolled her own ball down the lane, watching anxiously as it drifted too close to the gutter. She nearly begged it to stay on course, and by some miracle, it did. The pins wobbled. Two at the back hesitated—before falling over in unison. She jumped up, grinning. “I was saying that I’m so gonna beat your ass!” she cheered.

Raegan Northland

Blue Ridge Clan

-

That… well, that clearly hadn’t worked out too well, considering where she was sitting right then. Toe to toe with a werewolf she should have been scared to death of. She shouldn’t even be in the same room as him, let alone trying to be a friendly ear. But there she was, watching him closely, trying to get him to open up. And he was. That alone was enough to make her eyes widen slightly as she tapped her nails absentmindedly against her glass. “No shit, really?” she asked, clearly surprised. She already knew more about Jager Industries than she probably should—years of keeping an eye on Axl had made sure of that—but she hadn’t expected this. He was taking over? That was… crazy. It should have been nothing but a good thing, right? All the money, the prestige, a business already set up for success. But as she looked at him, she could see just how much weight he was already carrying on his shoulders, and now there was even more being piled on top. “So, he wants you to own the place and run it? Yeah, that doesn’t sound like much of a good time,” she huffed, though deep down, she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Fuck, it sounded like a great time. All the money and success anyone could ask for. But she could also see where he was coming from. The meetings, the competition, the constant need to maintain relationships with important people, the lack of free time, the stress… yeah, she could see why he wasn’t exactly celebrating. And yet, she was still curious. What were his plans? Where was he going to take the company? It was the kind of life so many people dreamed about. But then again, she was more than content with her own. She loved helping people, loved creating her concoctions that seemed to fix people from the inside out. Still, she couldn’t help but be interested.

She offered him a small smile, one that was both reassuring and just a little amused. “I know it’ll be busy—but Axl, you’re so ready for this. I know Konig isn’t… loved, but he’s a businessman, and you’re his son. He kept the company running just for you, and you’ll do a brilliant job with it all,” she said, almost excited for him. “I know it’s a lot, and you don’t sound thrilled about it, but it’s a good thing, right?” She hoped it was. She was sure he’d learn to love it eventually. It wasn’t every day you became the CEO of one of the fastest-growing companies in the country, and now he had an exact deadline—twenty-nine days. Her excitement dimmed slightly at the thought, though. With a schedule like that, would their little visits grind to a halt? Would he just disappear into his new life? She frowned a little, the selfish thought creeping in before she could stop it. “But with your busy schedule, make sure you set up a dinner or something for the two of us once a month!” she added quickly. This whole thing had helped her more than he probably realized. She didn’t fully trust him, but somehow, he’d chipped away at that shell she had built around herself—specifically, the one she’d built for him. He’d shown her, time and time again, that he wasn’t going to hurt her. The past was just that—the past. It didn’t mean it would happen again, and it didn’t mean she had to sit on her ass worrying about making new acquaintances. It meant more than he knew.

She snorted as he complained about her drink being too sweet, her pout quickly turning into laughter. “It’s not that sweet! Oh, how I’d love to watch you try Malabo. If this makes you gag, that stuff would have you choking for days,” she mused. She shook her head in disagreement when he claimed he wasn’t “city-folk.” To her, he was. Sure, she worked in the city, but she only really dealt with her patients. He was right in the middle of it all. “Alright then. You corporate-folk. Office-man. Big COO fella, whatever you wanna call it,” she scoffed, grinning.

She clapped her hands together after a moment, glancing toward the bar before looking at her now-empty glass, the faint stain of red at the bottom. She debated whether or not she wanted another drink, but the rowdiness of the men gathered at the bar was enough to put her off. She grumbled a quiet complaint under her breath but looked back at Axl when his voice caught her attention again. She just shook her head, chuckling. “Well, I’m not complaining anymore. You’re not drinking piss now, so why would I?”

She glanced back at the bar, then at the scoreboard. There was still another round left after her turn. She’d have to suck it up and go over there eventually. But before she could dwell on that, his next comment brought a lopsided grin and a slightly bashful flush to her cheeks for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. “You’re definitely going back to the manufacturer. I can’t have some rubbery balloon robot that thinks it’s all fun and games to sweet-talk people and then deflate on them,” she cackled, standing up to grab her ball, running her thumb over its smooth surface as she watched him take his shot.

She groaned, hanging her head in mock defeat. “Shhh! No one is supposed to know!” she hissed dramatically. “I landed just last month and took the form of some odd werewolf girl. You can’t go around spouting that I’m an alien to just anyone!” She grinned, stretching the length of her face as she scanned the alley for a moment. Then, with a focused exhale, she let the ball go.

She watched it roll, eyes widening—

And then she watched it drop straight into the gutter.

Mouth agape, she slowly turned to Axl, pointing an accusatory finger at him. This was all his fault.

“Yes, however long it takes! A hundred years! I’ll be here, on this day, at this time, just to finally beat your funky-looking balloon robot ass!” she groaned, dragging a hand down her face in playful misery.

Fine. One day, she’d win.

…Maybe.

Axl couldn't quiiiite tell if she was fully listening or not, but he didn't really care. He was too busy thinking about why the title 'father' had been revoked. He had reserved 'dad' for the one person who had actually ever acted like his dad. A memory flitted back to him, a good one this time, bringing a faint smile to his face.

He was young, maybe 6, playing in a stream. His sister, Sienna, was beside him, giggling maniacally. At just 4 years old, she was young, but a little hellfire. His baby sister. He splashed water at her face and laughed as she squeaked in protest. "Not fair! I'm a girl- you're not allowed to splash girls!" She had sniffed in a haughty little voice, causing him to splash her again. "I don't care about your gender, peasant. Bow down before me!" He had huffed in a regal tone, then tackled her. A second later, a male voice floated across the yard.

"Sienna! Xylon! Come inside!" His dad, Otto, called. His sister and him scrambled out of the water, dripping wet, giggling, and ran inside. "You two are soaked! go dry off." Otto laughed. Their mother, Raina, tossed them both towels. "Silly children." She scolded quietly, though smiling. Xylon - Axl - went to his room to change, bursting out afterward with his shirt on backwards. "What's for lunch!?" He squealed, smelling bacon. There was a bark and a big fluffy dog raced down the hallway. They crashed and he screamed in delight, laughing so hard he was almost in tears. The dog, Rex, licked his face excitedly. Sienna came rushing up and threw herself into the pile, and Otto and Sienna peeked their heads in to see what was happening. They laughed at the view as well.

The memory cut off as abruptly as it began. Good thing it gently drifted by instead of taking over his whole mind. He felt a gentle sadness lulling his thoughts as he remembered Otto and Raina and Sienna and Rex. Those had been much better times. He blinked slightly, golden eyes focusing again as he glanced at her. "Yeah, really. The great Konig Jager is stepping down from Jager Industries." He replied, shaking his head slightly. He felt like a melted puddle as he thought about it, honestly. The only thing that drove him towards this was sweet revenge, something he needed so badly. Death wouldn't do it. He needed to punish Konig in the worst way possible. In this case, it was bringing down the thing they loved the most in this world. Jager Industries. Konig loved that company more than their own son.

"Yeah. I know what you're thinking." He gave her a look, paired with a huff. "I know it sounds great, in a way. Not having your own LIFE is not great. What use is billions of dollars if you can't use any of it?" He questioned, shaking his head. "For things you want, at least." If he didn't have time to take a vacation and go skiing or something weird like that, then what use was it if he could afford the best room in the hotel.

His lips twisted into a slightly ironic smile at her reassurances. It was great that she believed in him, but she had noooo idea of his real plans. "I will do what needs to be done." He replied simply. Starting with destroying the company. He would be even more famous than his father for that one reason. Then his plan would move into destroying every other company he knew used their names to do harm. There were 5 big companies owned by werewolves that he knew, and those werewolves were using them for terrible things. Axl wouldn't let that happen. When he was done with this, King Clan would be his, and nobody could do a damn thing about it.

When she frowned, he tilted his head, then she spoke and he realized what she was frowning about. He bit his lip to keep himself from grinning, the inside of his very soul warming up happily. "I don't care if the world is ending, we will still go bowling twice a week if you want to. I'd give up the company for time here with you." He said quietly. He couldn't hold it back- he needed to say that. It was the truth. He'd do anything to spend time with her. Even if she asked him to go mini-golfing, which would end in disaster. He was so bad at mini golf that when he first tried it, he had been banned from the place and had to pay for a window.

"Please, don't tell me there is things sweeter than that." His expression turned into one of sheer horror. "You could NOT wrestle that DEVIL DRINK into me." He stated with a snort. No way, Jose. Not gonna happ'n, cap'n. "I wouldn't be choking, I'd be dead. Big difference." He pointed out. Immediately afterward, he rolled his eyes. "Big COO fella? Really?" Axl inquired, shaking his head. "Your names lack something... I can't put my finger on it... ah yes. Creativity." He said drily.

His gaze also flicked to the drunk men mulling around- the crowd was growing- and his eyes sharpened slightly. He really hoped no one caused a stir tonight. Punching someone was not how he wanted to prove to her that he wasn't dangerous. Plus, that was a lie- he was dangerous, just not to her. "If it did taste like piss, quite frankly, I'd stop wasting money on that and start drinking actual piss." He huffed, wrinkling his nose.

Axl smirked at the slight brush on her cheeks, chuckling as she spoke. "I'd only DEFLATE if you POKED ME and if you send me back to the manufacturer, no more super funny billionaire bowling buddy! Also, I LOVE my sweet-talking skills so no way are we getting rid of those. Nuh uh. They've gotten me out of many an issue." That was veeery true. He had done many things that weren't the brightest, and his sweet words were the easiest way to get out of them. Mooost of the time.

"Ha! I knew it! And I wasn't spouting anything. I ain't no fire hydrant." He drawled, flashing a smug look. He opened his mouth to say something else when she let go of the ball. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch as it promptly fell into the gutter, a bark of laughter escaping. Two times in one night. That was rare. "You'd spend a hundred years with meeee? Awwww." He put a hand on his heart. "I'm flattered." A moment later, he grinned again, watching the board light up. Winner, Axl!

"Alsoooo, my ass is not FUNKY LOOKING, that is debilitating and rude." He whimpered, pretending not to notice the lit up sign. "I wonder who won..." He finally mused, looking up. "Oo, look at that! ME! I wonder who would've guessed that?" He cackled.