Tempted By The Alpha Of Manhattan

DAVE

My apartment had never felt so small. It was a one-bedroom place in Queens with wallpaper coming off the walls and a window that looked out at a brick wall. Usually, it was just me and my messy clothes. But with Meredith Stevens dying on my bed, Elena pacing like she was trapped and Doc James laying out surgical tools on my stained kitchen table, it felt like a tomb.

"The lighting is better in here," Doc James muttered, putting on a pair of latex gloves. He was a guy who'd seen too much and said too little, the perfect doctor for a someone like me who was currently breaking ten different laws.

"Move her."

I walked over to the bed. Meredith was going in and out of being awake. Her skin was very pale, almost see-through. But the cut on her side was dark purple and angry. It looked like it was rotting from the inside.

She was shaking so hard the bed frame rattled. I picked her up. She felt light, but her body was hot. It was like holding a hot kettle. I carried her to the kitchen and put her on the wooden table. It was old and wobbly, but it was all we had.

"Elena, hold the flashlight. Keep it steady," James ordered.

Elena's hands were shaking, but she grabbed the light. I stood at the head of the table, pinning Meredith's shoulders down.

"This is going to hurt," James muttered, reaching for a bottle of antiseptic. "I don't have enough anesthesia to knock her out completely, so she's going to feel this."

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed. "Just do it."

As soon as the cold liquid touched the wound, Meredith's eyes opened wide. My heart almost stopped. They weren't hazel anymore. They were the scary, beautiful gold I had seen in her apartment. They looked like melted metal, bright and strong, even while she was confused. She made a sound that wasn't a scream. It was a low growl from deep in her chest. It made the hair on my arms stand up.

"Hold her!" James yelled.

Meredith's hand shot up, fast like a snake, and grabbed my arm. Her grip was crazy. I could hear my jacket ripping. Her nails cut through my jacket and shirt and dug into my skin. For a second, I thought she might break my arm. No girl her size no person should be that strong.

I looked into those gold eyes. She was scared, lost in some kind of fever. I stopped thinking like a detective and just tried to hold her steady.

"I've got you, Meredith," I whispered, leaning close so only she could hear me. "Just stay with me. It's almost over. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't let go. She looked at me like I was the only thing keeping her from fading away.

James leaned in with a pair of forceps. He had to go deep, past the layers of tissue that looked burned. Meredith let out a broken gasp that made me want to hit something. Her body lifted off the table, and I had to press down on her shoulders with all my strength to keep her still.

Clink

James dropped a small, sharp piece of metal into a metal bowl. It made a loud ringing sound that filled the quiet kitchen. The piece was dull and grey. It didn't look like the shiny steel of a normal pocketknife.

"Found the problem," James said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his glove. "A piece of the blade broke off inside. High-grade silver. That's why the infection was spreading so fast. Her body was trying to get rid of it, but it was too deep."

"Who even carries a silver knife in 2026?" James said, dumping the bowl in the sink.

"That's some old-school, paranoid stuff. Like he thought he'd find a vampire or something."

I didn't answer. I couldn't tell him that the "paranoid stuff" was the reason Meredith Stevens was dying on my kitchen table. I just watched her eyes finally cloud over, and she went limp. The gold faded back to dull hazel, and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Half an hour later, the doctor was gone. I had moved Meredith to my bed. It felt strange having her there-the billionaire "Iron Goddess" under my old blue comforter in my tiny bedroom-but it was the only place she could really rest. I'd sleep on the floor tonight, which was fine. My back was already killing me anyway.

Elena was in the kitchen, scrubbing a bloodstain off the table so hard it could take the paint off. She looked like she was a million miles away.

"Detective?" she asked, her voice small and shaky.

"Yeah?" I said, leaning against the doorframe.

"What kind of person carries a silver knife?" She looked up at me, her eyes red from crying. "And why did she act like that? The growling... the way she looked. That wasn't just a fever, was it?"

I looked at the floor. I wasn't ready to talk about this. Not when I didn't even have the answers.

"I don't know, Elena. This whole case is a mess. Just... try to get some sleep on the couch, okay? We have a long day tomorrow."

I went back into the bedroom to check on her. Meredith was completely still, breathing shallow but steady. Her phone, sitting on the nightstand next to her expensive bag, suddenly lit up with a loud, sharp ping.

I picked up the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It was a text from that Unknown Number again. My heart started thumping hard in my chest.

I SAW YOU LEAVE THE OFFICE IN THE DETECTIVE'S CAR, MEREDITH. QUEENS IS A LONG WAY FROM HOME. I'LL GIVE YOU ONE NIGHT TO HEAL BEFORE I COME TO GET WHAT'S MINE.

My stomach sank. To get what's mine.

I walked to the window and pulled the blinds back a little, just enough to see the street. It was late, and the streetlights were buzzing. Everything looked normal-until it didn't.

A black SUV with dark windows was parked two blocks away, under a broken streetlight. Its lights were off, but I could see the soft smoke from the tailpipe in the cold air. It was running. Just sitting there.

The man from the office. The one who broke into her penthouse. He didn't just know she was hurt. He had followed us. He had watched me carry her into this building.

I looked back at Meredith, sleeping and vulnerable. I'd lied to Miller, I'd ignored a mutated DNA report, and I'd brought a target straight to my front door.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I whispered to the empty room.

The final line of the text flashed in my mind: to collect what's mine.

He wasn't coming for her company. He was coming for her. And he knew exactly where we were. I reached for my gun on the dresser and checked it. It was going to be a long night.