The siren stopped blaring ten minutes ago. Jesse stared at the bloody duvet encasing the guard's corpse; his heart hadn't stopped racing since Ross grabbed him, and despite the fact that the murderer was distracted showering the blood and brain matter from his body, all Jesse could do was obediently sit on the edge of the bed and wait.

What the hell was he going to do? He was complicit in Ross' crimes; there was no way to explain all of this to any law enforcement without making himself look guilty. The only thing he could think to do was play along and bolt when the right moment presented itself. Maybe he could escape and hide somewhere, or maybe he just had to wait until the ship docked at DeiganLupus. He could disappear into the city; there was no way Ross would risk chasing him into such a public place, right?

Right?

He didn't know this man well enough to assume that—he didn't know him at all. The only things he did know were that Ross was a wolf walker murderer who also killed and ate humans and was likely going to kill him, too, if he tried to make an attempt to get away.

But the strange part about everything was that something inside Jesse wanted to help Ross. His wolf still urged him to remain, to listen to that criminal, and to do whatever he could to keep him from getting recaptured by the Vârcolac. He didn't understand why, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't understand why his wolf or instincts insisted upon most things half the time, and he once again found himself questioning why he'd listened to a stupid feeling and followed it out onto the ocean.

The shower water stopped running.

Jesse tensed up and turned his head, staring at the bathroom door. He listened to Ross rustle around in there, and after a few moments, he came out wearing one of the bathrobes. He wasn't covered in blood anymore, and his once-matted, scruffy hair was now tousled and tucked behind his ears, revealing more of his face.

There was a ghastly scar stretching down the left side of Ross' face close to his ear; it cut from the side of his head under his hair, down to his jawline, and spread a few inches onto his neck, missing where the jugular was by a fraction of an inch. It looked like a knife or single talon was responsible—maybe one of the people or wolves he killed fought back.

"We'll give it another hour or two," Ross said as he stepped over the wrapped corpse and walked towards the bed.

Jesse wanted to move away from him when he sat beside him, barely a foot between them, but he didn't dare move an inch. He wasn't sure whether he was too afraid to make sudden movements or if his wolf was urging him to stay—perhaps both. He cautiously turned his head, glancing at the criminal, watching as he used another, smaller towel to dry his dark hair.

He nervously shifted his gaze around the room, hoping that something would happen or that Ross would decide he wasn't safe there. Maybe he should suggest that Ross made a run for it now. No...he wasn't good at convincing people, and he didn't want to say anything that would give this man an excuse to pin him against another wall.

"Why the Grey Moon Ceremony?" Ross suddenly asked.

Jesse scowled down at the floor before glancing at him. "Why do you wanna know? So you can laugh at me again for being a failure?"

"No, so I can understand why a member of such a renowned pack needs to go to a ceremony to find his soulmate. Perhaps, after all this time, the Redwoods are finally falling apart from the inside."

"What do you know about my pack?" he questioned, glaring at him.

"Everything. They've hunted people like me for centuries; knowing your enemy is a very important survival skill," he said as he finished drying his hair.

"Right, well you clearly didn't know the Vârcolac well enough; otherwise, you wouldn't be here," Jesse muttered.

Ross scoffed, but instead of lashing out as Jesse feared, he laughed a little and tossed the towel over to the laundry basket.

Jesse then blurted, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Become a Ucigaş."

Ross shrugged and said, "Money."

"So, you're an assassin."

"Sometimes." He set his vacant gaze on Jesse. "Why the ceremony?"

Jesse looked away. He didn't want to answer; he knew that Ross was fishing for information because he came from a family of wolves who hunted people like Ross for the Government, but he was also fishing for information on Ross. Maybe he'd understand why this guy made his wolf react so strangely, and maybe he'd find a way to escape, a way to untangle himself from this web of misfortune and terror he'd been weaved up into.

"Well, you evidently know that my family do bounty work for the Nosferatu, and they're all Alphas or Betas and super strong and smart and amazing." He sighed deeply. "And then there's me, the only Redwood who doesn't like hunting or killing. All I wanted to do was find my mate, and...I thought I found him, but I was left last minute because...I'm different," he lamented.

"Because you don't hunt and kill?" Ross questioned.

"No," he mumbled. "James said he liked that I was different, but of course he only meant that behind closed doors." He didn't want to think about it anymore. James was in the past—at least he tried to convince himself that he was. Every time he thought about him, he felt the urge to head back home and try to make things work, but he knew that was pointless. It was over. "He rejected me instead of letting everyone think that he was with someone...someone like me."

Ross, who was staring at him, frowned slightly. It looked like he was thinking, and when he rested his left hand on the blanket and leaned a little closer to Jess, he asked, "Someone like you?"

Jesse tensed up again. His dismay was replaced with fear and anxiety, but his curious wolf kept him in place. The man's right hand met his knee, and when he dragged his palm up Jesse's thigh, his heart began racing.

"Someone...different?" Ross asked, edging his face towards Jesse's neck.

He wanted to pull away; his anxiety quickly overwhelmed him, and when Ross nuzzled his neck, Jesse closed his eyes and tried to find the courage he needed to fight his wolf...but the beast inside him always won. He gave in to his wolf's curiosity, and as Ross' fingers traversed his inner thigh, he tightly gripped the blanket beneath him with both hands and let the strange feeling of anticipation enthral him.

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But when Ross' fingers reached his crotch, he felt the man hesitate, and the excitement withered like a flame in a cold, harsh breeze.

Jesse opened his eyes and watched as Ross pulled his face away from his neck and looked down at his hand.

"You're...a—"

"I-I'm a trans man," Jesse blurted before Ross could say the word his parents degraded him with.

A flicker of confusion moved across Ross' face, but he didn't move his hand away from Jesse's crotch. "That's why you were rejected?"

Jesse hung his head in despair. "Straight guys treat people like me like dirty little secrets; we're just this...fun little thing for them. They're too embarrassed to publicly admit that they're not straight—it's like they think we're women, like being with us doesn't make them gay." He glanced at Ross, who was staring at him, listening and maybe even thinking. "I've had four boyfriends in my life, and they all felt the same way. I don't know why I thought James would be any different. I mean he was fine until I got top surgery; it was after that he started acting weird...more reluctant to be seen with me outside his house."

Ross didn't immediately reply. He slowly looked Jesse up and down, almost as if he was examining him.

But Jesse's dismay became outweighed by fear once again. This man was a criminal—a killer. Every cis man Jesse had come across felt either disgusted or threatened by him, and he was certain that Ross' reaction was going to be a hundred times worse. His desperation to get away returned—he should flee before Ross worked out how he wanted to respond.

He let go of the blanket and prepared to dart—

Ross then moved his face back towards his neck, and when Jesse felt his warm breath against his skin, he tensed up, and his racing heart was ensnared in a conflicting, contorting concoction of anxiety, anticipation, and curiosity.

"You smell different," the man murmured and inhaled quietly. He stroked his fingertips over Jesse's crotch, pressing down a little harder each time until his touch met Jesse's t-dick.

Jesse shivered as the brewing anticipation shot and spiralled through his body. His wolf pleaded for more, urging him to give himself to the intimidating man beside him. But he felt conflicted—he felt confused. His feelings of fear and excitement clashed, making it hard for him to discern which he should act upon. As Ross' fingers continued teasing him, though, he felt himself leaning closer to the idea of giving in.

Ross then guided his fingers up to Jesse's belt. "I want to taste you," he whispered into his ear.

His words enticed Jesse. He couldn't help but tilt his head to the side, giving Ross more room to nuzzle his neck. As the man started unbuckling his belt, the space between his legs warmed; desperation enthralled Jesse, and he could feel his wolf's excitement increasing drastically. He wanted to give in, he wanted to lay back and let this man have his way, but reality quickly smacked his stupid face.

He didn't know this man. What he did know was that Ross was a murderer of both humans and wolf walkers; he was dangerous, relentless, and merciless, and he'd likely kill Jesse if he stepped over whatever lines he had hidden behind those dark, empty eyes. As enticed as he felt, and as intensely as his wolf might try to convince him, he wasn't going to give himself to a stranger.

Jesse fought off the anxiety and desperation and snatched Ross' hand before he could finish unbuckling his belt. "I-I don't want to," he said nervously.

Ross pulled away from his neck, revealing that same vacant stare on his face. He then moved his hand from Jesse's belt and shuffled away, putting two or so feet between them.

He might have just seized his chance to escape, but Jesse just sat there. His wolf was disappointed, and thus, so was he. His racing heart didn't calm, and neither did his anxiety, but the rest of his conflicting feelings slowly withered, leaving him tense, nervous, and unsure once again.

"Who's James?" Ross questioned tonelessly.

Jesse turned his head and frowned at him. "My...ex."

"No, which pack? I've not heard of a James Redwood."

"Oh. He's from a neighbouring pack, the Blackcrests. Our packs had territory issues, and the plan was to unite us, and that was part of why my parents were so against my transition; it was like they knew James would reject me for being different. They were also transphobic, though, so...." He sighed and shrugged. "James rejected me, so the packs are probably fighting again."

"You Redwoods are notorious for absorbing other packs," Ross muttered.

Jesse's frown thickened, but Ross wasn't wrong. "Yeah, I guess we are. My mother married the Alpha of the Warfang pack."

Ross laughed a little. "So, you're the son of two Alphas?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But you're an Omega."

Jesse couldn't tell whether he was insulting him or was confused or curious. "My brother is their heir, so he got all the attention, especially after I came out," he told him. "I didn't want to be this weak, useless, disappointing waste of time to them, and after James rejected me, I knew that I was exactly that. So, I decided I'd find my mate...if he's even out there."

"Hence the Grey Moon Ceremony."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "But I don't know. It all seems kinda stupid now. I know that it was James, but he doesn't want me, so what else am I supposed to do?"

"Do you really think finding your mate will make your parents respect you?" he questioned, looking down at him.

Jesse's frown became a confounded one. "Well...I hope so. Finding your mate is a huge thing for wolf walkers—at least everyone I've been around has made a huge deal out of it."

Ross scoffed and glanced around the room. "It's only a huge deal if you're important, but from what you've said, I don't think your parents will accept or respect you even if you have a mate."

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but Ross was likely right. The only way he'd make his parents happy would be to detransition, to become the daughter they wanted. But that wasn't him. He was never their daughter, and he never would be. He told himself that if they didn't accept him for who he was, then oh well, but...a part of him wanted to be respected, a part of him wanted to be accepted by his parents and his packmates...and by James. But none of that was going to happen. Hell, if he found his mate, they might not even accept him, either.

However, he had no regrets. He didn't regret seeking hormone therapy, he didn't regret changing his name, and he didn't regret his surgery. He was a man, and nothing and no one was going to change that.

With a heavy sigh, Jesse shrugged and shook his head. When he locked sights with the duvet-wrapped body, though, anxiety struck him once again. "W-what are we supposed to do with that?" he asked, nodding at the body.

Ross scoffed amusedly.

"What?" Jesse questioned.

"Nothing." He glanced at the clock. "We'll wait until midnight; escaped prisoner or not, the guards always slack off during the night shift. Like I said, we'll throw it overboard."

"And what if the guards come and check the room before then?"

"Then we'll have two bodies to dump overboard."

Jesse didn't want to see him kill someone else, nor did he want to have to help him dispose of another dead, mangled guard. He didn't even want to help with this one. But he didn't have a choice.

"You got any spare clothes?" Ross asked as he pulled his towel off.

Even though Ross had been naked since Jesse first saw him, he was only now paying attention to that fact. He felt flustered when he caught a glimpse of his crotch but quickly looked away. "Y-yeah, in my suitcase."

Ross got up and went over to the suitcase.

Jesse kept his head turned away from him, but when he heard the man opening the suitcase, he glanced at him. He watched Ross take out one of his shirts and a pair of jeans, and once the man pulled the trousers on—which were a little tight and short for him—he observed as he put the t-shirt on over his head. A scar of the same shape as the one on his face cut down from his left pec to his waist, but Jesse's eyes wandered away from the old wound and to Ross' abs.

He couldn't take his eyes off him. The longer he stared, the harder it became to ignore the growing angst inside him. He felt enticed, curious, and eager, and his wolf began urging him closer again.

But when Ross finished getting dressed, Jesse looked away, hoping the man didn't catch him staring. And to further avoid suspicion, he asked, "How did you get that scar?"

"I challenged and killed the previous Alpha of my pack," he answered tonelessly and sat back down on the bed.

"You're part of a pack?" he questioned warily.

He nodded.

"Are...they here?"

"No. The Vârcolac only got me; I held them off while my pack got away."

Jesse was a little surprised to hear that. Not only was this murderer an Alpha, but he'd sacrificed himself for his pack. However, he kept himself from exploring how he felt about the revelation. Noble or not, this man was still a killer.

Killer or not, Jesse still felt urged towards him.

And he didn't understand why.