Un.Wavering (Claimed Series Book 3)

by Reese Morgan

  Her nose tickled at the mustiness and she somehow stifled a sneeze.

  “He clearly had a business partner who did the work for him.” Nicolas snatched one of the ledgers from the shelves and skimmed through it, revealing an excessive amount of numbers and neatly penned accounts.

  He also released a fountain of dust. Each particle shimmered brightly as they soared through the air. Hayden turned her back on the onslaught of dust and considered the back room with hooded eyes.

  There were two desks situated amongst the many books and heavy tomes. One undoubtedly belonged to Logan’s very dedicated partner. A stack of writing utensils and lose-leaf papers piled neatly at one edge of the desk. Ink smudges and nicks stained the top of the oak desk, the piece of furniture obviously experiencing heavy use throughout the years.

  The other desk was nearly flawless in that it suffered no abuse. It was bare too, just a few ledgers and a fountain pen sitting on top. A coat rack stood near, hanging a single, abandoned jacket. Like the rest of the office, the article of clothing was coated with dust.

  Hayden reached out and touched the sleeve, her mind elsewhere. How could Celeste kill her mate? A seemingly ordinary and influential man? From what Nicolas had heard, despite contrary opinions of Logan’s good nature, he had supposedly treated her unfairly.

  Knowing Celeste, Logan’s death was unjust.

  “Have you told Hayden what our father’s business entails?”

  She turned abruptly. Nicolas stood against the opposite desk, appearing bored. He hadn’t found anything, she realized with sinking disappointment.

  She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe she’d thought the journals wouldn’t be work related at all, but filled to the brim with disreputable evidence. Evidence that could somehow bring Celeste to her knees. Instead, they were all numbers, all legal descriptions.

  “Weapon artillery,” Cole responded briskly, distracted as he searched in vain through the ledgers. “We produce ammunition.”

  It was a bit disconcerting to admit that she hadn’t known that bit of information earlier. She’d known Cole inherited the company from his father, and that he’d struggled to keep it from sinking into irreversible debt, but she never knew the details.

  Nicolas smiled thinly. “And did you tell her what kind of ammunition you produce?” His eyes gleamed. “And who is your top clientele?”

  Hayden narrowed her eyes on the rogue Alpha. Clearly, when Nicolas was bored, he created his own source of entertainment. Often times, it was destructive entertainment.

  Cole slammed down a stack of ledgers, frustration coming off him in waves. Like his brother, he discovered nothing of importance. He pressed a hand against his forehead, thinking, and possibly just ignoring Nicolas.

  Seconds later, after many heartbeats of silence, he answered the question. “We produce many varieties of ammunition, especially for rifles. However, our chief producing ammunition is silver bullets.” He glanced at Hayden from over his shoulder. “Our biggest clientele are Hunters.”

  Somehow, the revelation did not shock her as much as it should have.

  “Xavier Slayter was on good terms with the Hunters.” Nicolas pushed off from the desk and gazed around the office. “As was Logan Crow. They were both traditional wolves who supported the Hunters and the idea of executing troublesome rogues.”

  “And Celeste clearly supports the exact opposite,” she surmised. “She’d rather have the rogues flourish. Is that why she killed her mate? And…” she trailed off, glancing between Nicolas and Cole.

  It was probably for the best she didn’t add Marie and Xavier to that list.

  “There is more to it than simple principles,” Nicolas answered. “Celeste and Logan were both temperamental and opinionated. Both possessing very strong personalities. I find it hard to believe they resorted to murder over a simple disagreement.”

  He pivoted to look at Cole, his face morphing into one of blasé curiosity. “Aren’t you wondering why our father invested so much into this business?” He held out a hand, indicating the musty office. “This investment caused our father’s business to crumble.”

  Somehow, amongst the three of them, Nicolas appeared the most out of place in the dusty office. He stood tall, proud, naturally exuding an air of pure prestige and bored arrogance. It was if he knew everything and was waiting patiently for Cole and Hayden to catch up to him, to put the pieces together.

  Knowing Nicolas, he probably did know the answers to his own questions.

  “For legal and financial advice, of course,” Cole replied stiffly. “Isn’t that what the sign says above the office doors?”

  Hayden was taken aback at the bitter sarcasm in Cole’s voice. He didn’t want to be here, digging into Celeste’s past. He was frustrated and impatient with the lack of answers.

  She could relate.

  Hardly taking offense at the acidic response, Nicolas plucked a photograph from the desk. “Let us hope Logan’s business partner is still alive and well.” He peered down at the dusty frame before removing the photo from inside. “Considering the office is still standing, unused, is a good sign.”

  “Not entirely unused,” she muttered darkly. “It’s being used to lure werewolves into death traps.”

  “Just naïve, silly saviors,” Nicolas countered, taking interest in Hayden.

  Ignoring his jab and close observation, she ran a hand through her hair, composing her thoughts. It didn’t make sense. It was too ironic that Logan Crow’s office was now being used by humans as hunting grounds. The smell of death and silver was still so strong, surely the humans hadn’t caught that many werewolves.

  Her eyes landed on the large safety box across the room. The lockbox was as tall as Cole and double in width. Her hopes sunk when she realized it was open and empty. However, as her eyes dropped, she noticed the scratch marks on the floor.

  Cole noticed it at the same time.

  Her Alpha studied the markings, most likely deducing they were from the large safety box being pushed aside numerous of times.

  Pressing his palms against the side of the safe, he pushed. The metal squealed and carved a new set of deep grooves into the floor. As it was pushed aside, however, a doorway revealed hidden steps into the basement.

  Hayden perked up and eagerly stepped closer. Before she got too close, a warm hand curled challengingly around her neck, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Let us clear the way first,” Nicolas murmured, tightening his hand warningly.

  She flashed him a sharp canine, showing him exactly what she thought about that order. He only smirked in response, crowding behind Cole and diligently following him down the stairs.

  Basking in a nearly visible aura of offense, Hayden charged after them, not one to be left behind for protection. She remained a persistent presence at their backs, acknowledging the impossibility of charging past their brute bodies to get to the basement first, but hoping they realized their concern was unwarranted.

  The temperature dropped significantly the further they traveled below ground level. The cemented walls and stairs were cracked and stained with aging mildew. It was wet, and death and suffering fumigated the heavy air.

  She pressed closer to the males in front of her, peeking over their shoulders and into the empty basement. There was no threat to be seen. What used to be was long gone.

  Despite the smell and the mildew, the cellar was almost sterile in appearance.

  There were two prison cells lining the walls, their bars still intact regardless of what creature Hayden imagined inhabited the prison. Inside the cages, chains hooked onto the cement walls, their shackles open and growing layers of dust.

  Hayden stepped off the last stair and entered the small basement. There were echoes of pain here, of death. The scent of silver had seeped into the cracks of the basement’s very foundation, the poisonous aroma still prevailing after many years of abuse.

  “What…” she trailed off, a loss for words.

  A solid ta
ble, equipped with shackles, sat against the wall. Glass vials, empty for the most part, were shattered on the ground or abandoned by their owner. Inching closer to the table, she spied several long-needle syringes.

  From the strong scent of death, Hayden had expected a corpse to greet them in a dark corner. Only, there were no bodies, only the lasting memory of what must have been dozens upon dozens of deaths.

  She felt empty, unnerved.

  “Did Celeste start her work here?” she asked the equally silent and observing brothers. “Or was Logan dabbling in his own experiments?”

  “Either scenario is possible,” Cole replied. “We only have our assumptions. No one can confirm what transpired down here.”

  “We can confirm that Logan was aware of it. Either that, or he was painfully and ignorantly blind,” Nicolas countered. “It appears as if he wasn’t the saint everyone hailed him to be.” He sighed airily. “I suppose we need to track down his business partner.”

  Summoning the extracted picture from his jacket, he displayed it to Cole and Hayden. She saw an older male standing with a woman and a younger man. They were positioned in front of a house with a traditional picket fence.

  “Logan’s business partner was human?” Hayden asked abruptly, observing the older male’s greying hair. A werewolf did not have grey hair.

  “It appears that way.” Nicolas placed the photograph back into his pocket. “We will need to set the office on fire. While it won’t stop speculations of who and what killed the men, it’s best to destroy what evidence we can.”

  He retreated up the steps, Cole following his lead.

  Hayden lingered, staring once more at her surroundings. Goose bumps danced across her arms at the distant echoes. She could only imagine how many haunted spirits remained behind, trapped by their tortured and pained demise.

  Such desperate isolation… she could only imagine what Cole had gone through… what Nicolas had experienced… what all those men and women were forced to endure.

  The werewolf community might label Nicolas as a cruel villain. And while that may be true for the most part, Hayden did not see an evil greater than Celeste.

  “Hayden.”

  Turning, she spied Cole waiting for her. Despite his weakening appearance, his eyes were warm and focused. He held out a hand, waiting for her to grasp it. With her heart in her throat, she grabbed it and held tight.

  It would be a hard road for Cole. If what Nicolas had hinted at were true, Xavier might have known about the on goings at Logan’s office. It would be a heavy weight for Cole to bear on top of his unstable condition.

  But with Nicolas and Hayden at his side, she knew Cole would overcome the worse.

  * * * *

  Early morning arrived quickly in the small town.

  For being such a turbulent night, the sun was bright and cheerful, and even the birds seemed relieved to be rid of the heavy cloak of darkness. The only thing that disturbed the picture of a peaceful, ordinary morning was the heavy fog.

  Hayden strolled past the smoldering building, and in turn, the group of gossiping and fearful spectators. She tried not to appear too disinterested, least she draw attention to herself, yet she didn’t want to stay and linger either.

  From the looks of things, it appeared as if the firemen had tried their hardest to salvage the burning building. The thick smoke that smoldered from the crumbled building was hot and putrid. To humans, the scent of burning flesh might have been subtle, but to Hayden’s nose, it was overwhelming and entirely repulsive.

  Before they left the office building last night, Nicolas set the bodies aflame individually. By the time the fire department reached the office, the bodies had most likely been unidentifiable.

  She tried not to ponder too long about the massacre that took place last night. Her feelings on the matter were complex, but then again, many issues of late were perplexing.

  Her eyes landed on the two Slayter brothers.

  They walked in front of her, yet, judging from their defensive postures, she knew they were constantly aware of her whereabouts. Nicolas, in particular, seemed especially cognitive of Hayden. He rarely looked back, but he somehow slowed when she slowed and stopped when she paused to assess the burning office.

  He possessed a deep attentiveness when it came to her, Hayden realized. It was not a life mate bond, clearly, but it was unusually strong. He claimed Cole acted as the conductor for their bond, but she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

  Her attention then landed on Cole, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Despite the sleep they received, and the abundance of meat, he still appeared extremely haggard. When she was close to him, she clearly heard the quickness and unevenness of his pulse. The drug remained strong in his blood.

  He also kept a respectful distance with her. Through their mind bond, he seemed to withdraw and run further and further from her inquisitive reach.

  She didn’t understand. Perhaps he was trying not to concern her with his weakening condition, but in doing so, he only worried her further.

  Not to mention the brother’s sudden and strange comradeship.

  The oddity must have happened while she slept, for when she woke up that morning, they’d seemed to form an unnatural amity. They were often seen talking to one another quietly, away from Hayden’s prying ears and eyes. There was still an obvious air of tension surrounding Cole whenever he was in Nicolas’ presence, yet the younger brother continued to seek out the eldest.

  Hayden was not stupid. Cole was distracted. And he was uncertain about his condition. Why not keep company with the only other man who’d gone through the same thing and lived to tell his tale?

  “Hayden.”

  Slowly, she looked at Cole. He motioned her forward, in the spot between Nicolas and himself. She followed his direction, only because she didn’t want to start an argument.

  As she fell into place at his side, he held up the photograph Nicolas had stolen from Logan’s office. The flimsy photograph flapped in the strong wind, barely staying still long enough for Hayden to get a good look.

  She realized they came to an abrupt stop in front of the same house in the photograph. Only, like most things, time had taken its toll on the quaint, one-story home.

  The majority of the garden was thorny and dead, with a few exceptions of overgrown shrubs. Paint began to peel on the exterior of the house, as well as the shutters. A rickety ladder leaned against the side of the garage, appearing as if someone had just recently pulled leaves from the gutters.

  Much to her surprise, the fence was still in good condition. The faint aroma of paint coming from the posts was proof that someone cared, but fell behind in keeping up with the house’s maintenance.

  The two brothers approached the charming front porch and she quickly followed.

  “What if he no longer lives here?” she asked.

  “Then we will simply find another lead.”

  Hayden held her tongue despite the heavy cloud of doubt hovering over her head. So far, they hadn’t discovered anything concrete. For reasons unknowns to them, Logan Crow had an experimental chamber in the basement of his office, empty except for the haunting echoes left behind.

  Cole rapped thrice on the front door. Sourly, Hayden stared down at the welcome mat. It was so ordinary here. So simple and uncomplicated. She wondered why she felt so uncomfortable in this atmosphere.

  Soft footsteps approached the door, a slow and easy gait. Whomever occupied this property was human. They didn’t have to worry about werewolves; they only had to discern if this was an oblivious human or a dangerous Hunter.

  As the door opened, Hayden blinked in surprise.

  A gentle face, wrinkled with age, smiled out at them. It was a woman, perhaps around her mid-seventies. She blinked at both Cole and Nicolas, most likely taken aback at such tall, strapping men on her front step.

  “Hello,” Cole greeted, clearly electing to be the voice of the group since Nicolas and Hayden remained obstinately sile
nt. “Is your husband home?”

  It was a good deduction.

  Neither of them knew the name of Logan Crow’s human partner. However, they did know he’d be around this woman’s age.

  Her face lit up with recognition. “You must be friends of John and Logan.” Looking cautiously past the trio, and out into the street, she lowered her voice. “Werewolves. I never thought I’d see another one after Julian and Logan!”

  “My name is Cole Slayter, and this is my brother Nicolas—”

  “Xavier’s boys.”

  She already knew so much.

  Hayden wondered whether to be relieved or vigilant.

  The woman smiled widely and opened the door to allow them entrance. “I’ve heard much about you.” Her eyes then landed on Hayden, her expression twisting in concentration. “You must be of relation to Logan then?”

  Hayden offered a grimace-like smile as Cole answered for her.

  “No, this is Hayden. She is a member of my pack.”

  The elder woman frowned, but perked up a moment later. “I have to leave for work this morning, but I have some time to make you tea. I just took out a fresh loaf of bread…”

  She continued her long-winded tirade to Cole, appearing genuinely happy at their visit. Before entering the home, Hayden glanced at Nicolas, taken aback when she noticed his sharp stare. His long fingers pressed against the crown of his forehead, a gesture clearly meaning he was deep in thought.

  Between his fingers, his eyes observed her thoughtfully.

  “What now?” Hayden snapped, raising her hackles. “Contrary to what you think are appropriate manners, blatant staring is not one of them.”

  His pupils dilated and he dropped his hand abruptly. He only offered her a simple smirk before slithering inside the house.

  On edge, Hayden closed the front door and crossed onto the ornate floor rug. Just as she was about to enter the sitting room, which was equally ornate, the elderly woman hollered sweetly from the kitchen.