How to stop it.

That night, around a couple minutes past 1am, William tossed and turned in his bed. His mind was still stuck on Anna, and his encounter with his mother earlier that evening.

Finally he gave up on the prospects of sleep and grunted.

“Fuck,” he whispered into the air, staring up at the ceiling, his back pressed against the soft Egyptian cotton sheets.

As though it was a sigh, his phone began to vibrate and William reached for it on his bedside table without looking.

The lack of a caller ID made his brows furrow; who could it be that was calling him at this time of the night?

“Yes?” He answered the call expectantly.

“Is this Alpha William?” A strange male voice was in the other end, a mix of British and French accent which made William more alert. Who was this person.

“Who’s asking?” He replied with shortly.

“This is Victor Erikson,” came next, and hearing that damned last name of a prominent Hunter family made him sit up at last, growling into the receiver.

“What the hell do you want?”