Chapter 71: The Truth Beneath Their Skin

Chapter 71: Chapter 71: The Truth Beneath Their Skin

Zoey’s expression hardened as she listened, the amusement that had briefly touched her face disappearing beneath something far more serious.

"Of course he was. That creep has always had a thing for hovering around places where he has no business being. But what else exactly happened after you came outside the office?"

"He wouldn’t listen to me." Iris rubbed her palms against her skirt, trying to rid them of the lingering tremor in her fingers. "I told him I didn’t want to talk to him, that whatever he thought he had to say could wait, but he kept demanding to know what I had been doing in there for so long. He wouldn’t give me any space."

Zoey’s jaw tightened. "And then?"

"He became aggressive." Iris swallowed. "Not loud at first. That would have been easier. He was calm in that frightening way he gets when he’s trying to make someone feel small. He followed me when I tried to walk away, and when I told him to stop, he cornered me against the wall, and I could feel him closing in."

"Did he touch you?" Zoey’s voice was sharp, protective.

"No," Iris whispered. "Because Alexander came out."

Zoey went completely still. For several seconds, she said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed on Iris, but there was something different in it now. Curiosity sharpened into concentration.

Alexander Grant had been the missing piece in everything Zoey had been trying to understand for weeks. Every strange occurrence around Iris seemed to bend toward him eventually, and every attempt Zoey had made to dig into the man’s background had led to another locked door.

She shifted closer on the bed. "And then?"

"Jason tried to hit him." Iris said, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt again.

Zoey blinked. "He actually tried to hit Alexander?"

Iris nodded. "He was angry. I think he believed Alexander was interfering, and Jason has never been very good at controlling himself when he feels challenged."

"And Alexander? Don’t tell me he stood there and allowed Jason to hit him. Because then, that will destroy the macho image of him I have in my mind."

Iris’s fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt again. "Alexander... he just slapped him."

Zoey frowned. "A slap? That’s it? That doesn’t sound very ’supernatural’ to me."

"It wasn’t the slap itself," Iris’s voice dropped to a whisper. "It was the result of that slap. Jason flew."

Zoey’s brows rose in confusion. "What do you mean, flew?"

"I mean he was thrown across the entire hallway, hitting the wall so hard and with such force that I saw the plaster crack."

She paused, remembering the sound of Jason’s body hitting the wall.

Zoey slowly leaned backward, her eyes widening. "He actually flew?"

Iris nodded.

"Across the hallway. From a slap?" Zoey asked, her eyes still wide.

"I don’t know how else to explain it."

For once, Zoey didn’t immediately have a sarcastic answer. She stared at Iris as though waiting for her to laugh and admit she had exaggerated. When Iris remained completely serious, Zoey rubbed both hands over her face.

"All right. Fine. Let’s assume for a second that I am not losing my mind and that you actually watched Alexander Grant send Jason flying with one slap."

"It really happened."

"Then what happened to Jason afterwards? I mean...after he flew from the slap."

"That’s when he transformed into half a wolf half a man."

Zoey’s hands dropped in shock and awe.

Iris could still remember the awful sound of Jason’s bones shifting. The way his body had convulsed, his spine arching as something ancient seemed to force its way beneath his skin. The man she had known for years had disappeared before her eyes, replaced by something with claws, fangs, and a rage that seemed too large for a human body to contain.

"What could have triggered it? Or do they seem to just change at will?" Zoey asked her, clearly looking excited and interested at the topic.

"I think the pain triggered it," Iris continued. "Or maybe the anger did. I don’t know. He looked like he wanted to fight back and tear Alexander apart." She paused, a shiver running down her spine.

"But Alexander... he didn’t even look impressed. He just stood there, watching him like Jason was an inconvenience that had interrupted his evening."

Zoey let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, although there was no humor behind it.

"Of course he was. Only Alexander Grant could stand in a hallway and could treat a werewolf transformation like a boring lecture."

Iris looked at her. "That’s the thing. He wasn’t just standing there, Zoey. He was... terrifying. And he just picked Jason up by the throat with one hand."

The teasing vanished from Zoey’s face. Iris could still see it clearly: Alexander’s face hadn’t shifted into a half beast, half man like Jason. But something had surfaced behind his eyes. An ancient, predatory stillness that had made the entire hallway feel smaller, the air heavier. As though the hallway had suddenly become too small to contain him.

"You’re telling me he picked up a grown, transformed man by the throat with one hand?" Zoey asked.

Iris nodded. "He was dangling. His feet weren’t even touching the floor."

"Jesus."

"And the thing that frightened me most," Iris added, her voice shaking, "was that Jason wasn’t just struggling, he was fighting with everything he had. His—claws, strength, his teeth. He was snarling and trying to tear Alexander’s arm away from his throat—but Alexander barely moved. He was completely unfazed."

Her voice became quieter. "He wasn’t even struggling to hold him," Iris continued. "It was like Jason weighed nothing."

Zoey said nothing, the weight of the image sinking in.

"Then Shawn and Finn transformed too, I think to help him out from Alexander’s grasp." Iris continued. "And then... Alexander’s eyes changed. They turned red. A brilliant, piercing red, and these dark veins appeared across his skin."

Zoey’s gaze sharpened. "Red? Not gold?"

"Red. And the moment Jason saw them, he froze." Iris’s fingers tightened. "He had been screaming, threatening to tear him apart, but as soon as Alexander looked at him... he just stopped. He looked terrified."

Zoey stared at her, processing the hierarchy. "Why? Why would a werewolf be afraid of him?"

"I don’t know," Iris shook her head. "But then Alexander called him a ’pup.’"

Zoey’s brows knitted together. "A pup? Like... a child?"

"I don’t know Zoey, I’m just repeating what I heard."

"And he mentioned Jason’s father," Iris added. "Gerald. He said he wouldn’t mind telling Gerald why he had to put down his ’wayward son’."

Zoey slowly shook her head, leaning back against the bed. The amusement was entirely gone now, replaced by a genuine, unsettled dread. "This is... this is too much. It’s all too much."

"And there’s more," Iris said, looking at Zoey. "Professor Whitmore came into the hall. He saw Alexander holding Jason against the wall by his throat... and instead of calling security or screaming, he bowed. He bowed to him and called him ’sir.’"

Zoey stared. "He bowed? A tenured professor bowed to a CEO?"

"Like Alexander was someone he couldn’t afford to disrespect. Like he was... royalty."

The silence that followed was heavier than the one before. Zoey slowly turned her head toward the bedroom door, glancing as if checking for eavesdroppers, despite the privacy of the apartment, and it being just the two of them.

"So, let me see if I’ve got the map of this madness correct," Zoey said slowly. "Jason, Shawn, and Finn are werewolves. Professor Whitmore is in on the secret, and might be one as well. And Alexander is powerful enough to make three transformed predators freeze in their tracks just by glancing at them, while the faculty treats him like a deity."

Iris nodded solemnly.

Zoey exhaled a long, shaky breath. "And you’ve slept with him... twice. And who knows how many rounds you both had during both times..."

Iris’s face burned instantly. "Zoey!"

"What? It’s a pertinent detail! It’s hard to separate the sex from the point when the man you’re fucking turns out to be the scariest thing in a hallway full of monsters."

Iris covered her face with her hands. "Please, just stop."

Zoey’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t laugh. She reached over and gently lowered Iris’s hands, her expression softening. "I’m not judging you, Iris. I’m just trying to figure out how you ended up in the center of a supernatural war zone."

"So am I," Iris whispered, her gaze drifting to the floor. "For two weeks, we thought the mark on my neck was a mystery. A scar. Something weird."

Zoey’s eyes drifted toward the mark.

"And now I know it isn’t," Iris said, touching the skin. "It burns. Every time he gets close, it’s like it’s waking up."

Zoey leaned closer, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Iris, whatever Alexander is, I don’t think he’s the same kind of creature as Jason."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yes." Iris remembered the red eyes. The absolute, crushing stillness of his presence. The way Jason—a creature of claws and fangs—had looked like a frightened child in his grip.

"He was different," Iris said quietly. "He didn’t look like he was fighting a beast. He looked like he was disciplining one."

Neither girl spoke for a long time. Finally, Zoey snapped her fingers.

"Wait. The eyes. You said the others were gold and yellow, but Alexander was red. In almost every mythology, the red-eyed one is the peak. The origin." She looked at Iris. "I think Alexander is their Alpha."

Iris frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

Zoey gave her a look of mock-exasperation. "Iris, we have spent way too many Friday nights watching supernatural movies together to ignore a color-coded hierarchy. Red is always the boss."

"But this isn’t a movie, Zoey."

"I know," Zoey’s smile faded. "That’s the part that’s actually terrifying." She sighed. "We were laughing about this two weeks ago. Now you’re sitting here telling me you’ve seen the change with your own eyes."

Iris looked down at her lap. The situation felt surreal, like a fever dream she couldn’t wake up from. There was no easy explanation, only the uncomfortable truth sitting between them: werewolves were real, and they were integrated into the very fabric of her life.

And Alexander Grant was the apex of them all.

And somewhere beneath the fear and the confusion, beneath everything she had tried to convince herself she understood about the man she had allowed to touch her twice, one thought remained, pulsing like the mark on her neck.

Alexander had known the truth from the start. He had watched her wonder, watched her struggle to explain the inexplicable, and he had remained silent.

Maybe, Iris realized with a shiver, he hadn’t been hiding the truth. Maybe he had been waiting for her to be ready to see it..