Chapter 79: Under Her Skin

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: Under Her Skin

Iris turned around slowly, her back pressing lightly against the closed door as she watched the two men she had just allowed into her home.

Alexander stood in the middle of the small living room, looking completely out of place. Everything about him seemed too refined for the cramped apartment—his immaculate three-piece suit, the expensive watch partially visible beneath his cuff, the effortless confidence in the way he carried himself. It all belonged in one of the executive suites at Grant Enterprises rather than in a tiny student apartment shared by two broke college girls.

Oliver stood a short distance behind him, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, posture rigid.

Zoey, however, had no intention of making either man comfortable. She had positioned herself against the wall, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her baseball bat was no longer in her hands, but it remained within easy reach, resting against the plaster. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she tracked their every move.

Iris swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. This was not going to be easy. Not after what she had witnessed at the university—the unnatural snapping of bone, the feral amber eyes, the terrifying speed. Not after discovering that the supernatural world she had always considered nothing more than fiction was standing in her living room.

And certainly not when her own body seemed determined to betray every instinct telling her to stay away from Alexander.

A heavy, suffocating heat pooled deep in her core, spreading outward in waves that made her pulse flutter wildly against her ribs.

She pressed her thighs together, acutely aware of the bare skin beneath her skirt, her breath catching in her throat. The strange warmth beneath the mark on her neck throbbed—a subtle, persistent ache, as though an invisible, tension-strung wire pulled her toward the man standing only a few feet away.

That frightened her almost as much as the monsters at the university.

Alexander’s blue eyes locked onto hers. The subtle flare of his nostrils suggested he caught the shift in her scent, and a slow, maddening curve touched the corner of his lips. He said nothing, but the dark satisfaction in his gaze made her skin prickle.

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice not to waver. "Please... sit."

Alexander glanced toward the couches. They were barely worthy of the name—one had a small tear along the armrest, while the other sagged heavily in the middle. Neither Iris nor Zoey had been in a position to furnish the apartment like a luxury penthouse.

Alexander didn’t hesitate. He crossed the small space with fluid, predatory grace and sat down. Oliver, however, remained standing behind him like a silent, immovable shadow.

Iris’s gaze flicked between the two men, picking up on the unwritten dynamic. "Aren’t you...?" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the empty space on the cushion.

Alexander caught the look immediately. Without turning his head, he spoke softly. "Oliver. Sit."

Oliver bowed his head slightly, a gesture of absolute deference. "Of course, sir."

He took the seat beside Alexander without another word, his back straight, leaving no space between his shoulder and the armrest.

Zoey’s eyebrows climbed high on her forehead. Iris looked between them, her chest tightening. It wasn’t simply an employee following a boss’s instruction. There was something primal in the absolute submission of the act, an unspoken hierarchy that made the air in the room feel suddenly heavier.

Alexander leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. His expression remained utterly serene, despite having just entered a home where two women had spent the last several minutes discussing whether creatures of the night were going to tear them apart.

Iris slowly lowered herself onto the couch opposite them. Zoey stayed glued to the wall, her stance defensive.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Iris clasped her hands together in her lap, then hastily unclasped them when she felt her fingers trembling. She locked her eyes onto Alexander’s.

"I’m assuming you’re going to start explaining."

Alexander studied her, his gaze lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her chest before he leaned back slightly. "I’m sure you must be wondering about what you saw at the university today."

Iris let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "That is putting it mildly."

A quiet scoff echoed from the wall as Zoey shifted her weight. Iris offered her friend a fleeting glance before returning her focus to the man sitting across from her.

"I have questions," Iris continued, keeping her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "A lot of them. I want to know what you all are. I already have an idea, but I need you to confirm it. No more vague evasions. I want the truth."

"The supernatural is real, Iris." Alexander’s voice was remarkably low, smooth as velvet, carrying a weight that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.

"It has existed for far longer than human history has recorded. Most of what your kind believes comes from distorted myths, folklore, and the rare survivor who was lucky enough to walk away with their life. Your ex-boyfriend and his circle are werewolves. Same as their families. Their kind has lived among humans for generations, carefully maintaining the secrecy that protects both worlds."

"I knew it," Zoey muttered, pushing herself an inch off the wall, her eyes burning with triumph. "I knew there had to be something genetic about it. The golden eyes, the bone structure shifting, the aggression... there’s no way three guys from the same circle could all share the exact same medical anomaly by coincidence." She caught herself, raising a hand. "Sorry. Continue."

Oliver’s lips twitched, a momentary break in his stoic facade.

Alexander merely shifted his unreadable gaze to her. "Miss Brooks."

Zoey’s chin snapped up, her guard instantly slamming back into place. "Yes?"

"How was your investigation into the Blackthorne Estate?"

Zoey froze. The triumphant air evaporated, replaced by a sudden, rigid stillness. "You knew about that?"

"Of course," Alexander said smoothly. "I knew you were on the perimeter before you reached the front gate."

Zoey stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "How?"

Alexander folded his hands over his knee, his expression completely composed. "Anyone who steps onto Blackthorne property is cataloged. We maintain extensive security protocols, surveillance, and individuals whose sole duty is to monitor unauthorized presences. We need to know who is aware of our existence, and whether our secrecy has been compromised."

The room grew dense, the light of the lightbulb through the dusty window blinds casting long, dark bars across the carpet. Zoey slowly uncrossed her arms, her fingers digging slightly into her own sleeves.

"And what happens to people who find out?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave.

Alexander didn’t blink. "Those who become a genuine threat are dealt with."

"And by dealt with, you mean... eliminated?"

"Yes."

The word hung in the air like a heavy blade. Iris felt her stomach drop, a cold wave of nausea washing over her. But Alexander didn’t offer an apology, nor did his expression harden with hostility. He stated it as plainly as one might describe the weather.

"Those who aren’t threats are left alone," Alexander added softly, his eyes returning to Iris for a brief second before shifting back to Zoey. "We do not hunt humans simply because they stumble upon something beyond their comprehension."

Zoey swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly. "So... you do kill people."

"When necessary."

Zoey looked down at her sneakers, her jaw clenching tightly as the reality of her risky night-time reconnaissance hit her. She had climbed fences, bypassed cameras, and snuck onto the grounds of apex predators. She had been a ghost in her own mind—yet to them, she had been a bug under a glass.

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes with a defiance that barely masked her fear. "Then why wasn’t I killed?"

"Because you weren’t considered a threat."

A short, nervous laugh escaped Zoey’s lips. "That’s comforting."

"It should be."

Zoey turned her head slowly to meet Iris’s eyes. The unspoken terror passed between them instantly. If this man had wanted Zoey gone, she would have vanished without a trace, leaving Iris to wonder forever what had happened to her best friend.

"Furthermore," Alexander continued, his tone softening just a fraction, "you were unharmed because when I first encountered Iris, I ordered a thorough background check on her."

Iris’s head snapped toward him, her spine straightening instantly. "You did what?"

"I had you investigated," he repeated, unbothered by her rising heat.

Her brows drew together tightly. "Why? On what grounds?"

"We will arrive at that shortly."

"I don’t like being dissected like a lab subject, Alexander."

"It was necessary for your protection, as well as mine," he said calmly. "That inquiry naturally extended to your closest associates, including Miss Brooks. So when she crossed onto Blackthorne land, her identity was already flagged in our system."

Zoey blinked, the puzzle pieces falling into place. "So you knew I was looking for a link between you and the Blackthorne family?"

"Yes."

"That’s... deeply unsettling. And incredibly creepy."