Cooper eyed her a tad uneasily. That...did not sound like someone whom he was going to be able to convince was wrong about him. Alice seemed fascinating, but unnerving, too. He felt distinctly aware he knew very little about the WIP. When Cola had invited him into the Trust she’d said the agents wouldn’t just be from the ruling packs anymore, but so far that hadn’t seemed to pan out. The only WIP member he’d ever met was Daisy, and he’d rather foolishly been thinking of them in terms of human equivalents. Anarchists, perhaps, fighting for the dissolution of what was to Cooper’s outsider eyes the more wolf-like traditions of packs and alphas.
But mere minutes of conversation with Alice was starting to tell him that being less wolf-like than the packs didn’t necessarily mean they were more human-acting, either. It would be a mistake to think of werewolves as nothing more than a neat brew of both.
His eyes found Park again.
“Eli mentioned you know Daisy Boudillion,” Cooper said, hoping to move the conversation away from any more Moon talk.
“Yes. We met the same time she lost her mate. She became something of a mother to me.” He couldn’t help but wince, which Alice clearly saw and could guess the direction of his thoughts. “She worries about her children, too, you know. But they’re Park pack. Daisy is WIP. Some relationships work best as a memory.”
“Oliver isn’t Park pack,” Cooper said quietly. He wasn’t sure if this was overstepping or even the healthiest path to take, but god, would it really hurt to send one single email? “There’s nothing stopping her from contacting him. He wants her to contact him.”
“But he’s still a pack wolf, isn’t he?” she said impatiently, barely making it a question.
Cooper frowned. “He’s—as opposed to what? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“WIP, pack, rebels. Our world has always been divided into these three, under one name or another. Or, that’s how it’s been until now,” she added, giving Cooper a sudden contemplative look he didn’t quite like.
“Oliver’s a pack wolf,” Cooper said firmly. It’s what he wanted to be anyway, and Cooper would make sure he got it.
Alice just shrugged. “Many wolves have watched and waited to see what direction the Shepherd would go on his own, unleashed. If they were to discover he was in contact with Daisy, many might assume he was WIP as well and consider his choice made.”
“So, what, she ignored him to keep him safe?” Cooper asked skeptically. “Or did she just think she was protecting him and was really protecting herself from telling the truth?” he added, throwing Alice’s own words back at her.
“Mmm.” Alice eyed him. “Perhaps I’ll tell her that. Whatever her reasons, she’ll be relieved to hear her child has the protection of the Moon now.”
“I don’t want Daisy to know that part,” Cooper said hurriedly, and Alice grinned, flashing a mouthful of very animal-like teeth.
“As you wish, Moon,” she said primly. When he shot her a deeply annoyed look, Alice let out a sort of barking yelp of pure amusement and delight. “As mercurial as the legends say. Just remember, this is not a secret you can hide forever. Wolves have watched the Shepherd for years. Now they’ll watch you. It is only a matter of time before they see it for themselves. And then”—she shrugged—”the WIP will answer your call whenever the Moon chooses to rise.”
“Don’t wait by the phone,” Cooper said. “I’m a late riser.”
Perhaps drawn by the sound of Alice’s laughter, Hirano extricated herself from Cola, and Cooper couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved as she joined them. “Everything all right?” she asked, shooting him a wary look. Alice just buried her face in Hirano’s shoulder and made a purring sort of rumble while Hirano’s arm wrapped around her waist.
“We’re fine,” Cooper said hastily, just in case Alice was thinking of making any more astronomical observations. “Are you okay?”
“I’m—” Hirano’s voice wobbled, and her gaze moved quickly to where rays of pure sunlight had crested the horizon and pierced the red-leafed trees, as if she needed the excuse of staring into the light for the tears suddenly streaming down her face.
“It’s like waking up from a nightmare,” she whispered finally. “If I’d known who he was that first day he started working here, I’d have killed him, too.” Her voice broke for all its ferocious words.
Cooper felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Who?”
“That bastard James Finnigan,” Hirano said.
“So you really had no idea who he was before? He didn’t blackmail you to get the job?” Cooper asked, feeling Alice’s intense, curious gaze fall on him.
Hirano shook her head. “The blackmail started later. He was recommended to me by an old colleague. I wish I’d never listened. Then he would never have found you again. Never have blackmailed you, dragged you into this fucking mess. None of you. I brought all this into our lives and almost lost my reason for living.”
“Enough now,” Alice said. “You’re being very egotistical and it’s embarrassing.”
Hirano laughed wetly and pressed a kiss to the top of Alice’s head. The way their bodies relaxed into each other sent a wave of longing through Cooper for his own favorite person.
“Excuse me. I should go check on—” He waved in the general direction of Park and Eli. “It was, um, interesting meeting you.”
“Wait.” Alice plucked a business card, seemingly from the air, and handed it to him. “In case you ever want to leave the dark.”
Cooper took it, noting there was no name, just a phone number, and tucked it into his pocket. “Right. Thanks.”
As he walked away, he thought about what Alice had said. Not the completely off-the-wall parts about him actually being the Moon and calling up their wolves with his will alone—he scratched idly at the cut on the back of his hand—but about Daisy and how wolves had watched to see what path the Shepherd would choose. Watching and waiting. How Park had known this and chosen him anyway, along with all the limitations of acceptance, community and pack that choice might bring.
As he got closer to Park and Eli, he caught a bit of their conversation. “You can’t sleep in the zoo again,” Park was saying. “That’s not a long-term plan. It’s not even a short-term plan.”
“What’s going on?” Cooper asked, touching Park’s shoulder, which leaned into his hand.
“Do you truly never grow weary of asking that?” Eli asked.
“Eli has been sleeping here for weeks. He has no pack, no home and no plan,” Park said promptly.
Cooper blinked. “You can’t go back to Helena? Or become a pack with your sister?”
Both Park and Eli made faces, so Cooper had probably gotten that wrong somehow. Fair enough. He wouldn’t necessarily choose to roomie up with either of those people for an indeterminate length of time either.
“Alice remains WIP and I can’t go back to Helena. What if she makes me choose? Rejoin the pack or rebuild a relationship with my sister?” Eli shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m not entirely incompetent, you know.”
“No one’s saying you are,” Park said sharply. “But how will you find a new pack you can trust with your secret?”
A shadow passed over Eli’s eyes. “After all this?” he hissed. “All this hurt I’ve brought to myself? To my sister? To the two of you? I will never forgive myself as it is. But what I will not do is risk it happening again with someone new. I will just remain pack—packless.” He shifted a bit, hugging his knees tighter. “Perhaps some rebels will—”
Park snarled shockingly loud, but Eli didn’t even flinch, just changed direction. “Or maybe Alice can introduce me to some WIP. And if I find that untenable, I shall cast myself on Helena’s mercy.”
Cooper frowned, disliking the sound of that. These three paths again. He rubbed the ring on his finger thoughtfully. A gesture Park didn’t particularly understand himself, would
never have been inclined to make at all if not for Cooper’s happiness.
He took a deep breath. “What about joining us?”
Eli and Park both looked at him with stupefied expressions.
“Er, join our pack, I meant. Not join us for—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, we can do that, right?” he confirmed, looking to Park, but his face still wasn’t moving. “It’s not like you need to live with us or anything. You didn’t live with Helena, just on the property, right?” He realized how that sounded and horrified quickly added, “Not that you’d live in the yard—I just meant—obviously, you can live wherever you want.”
More silence. This had seemed a lot simpler in his head. Cooper got the feeling he was messing up massively and was honestly surprised Eli hadn’t jumped in to tease him yet. But like Park, Eli just sat there, unmoving and wide-eyed.
“Look, all I’m trying to say is if you want a pack, you have one. Right?” he asked Park, who finally seemed to shake himself out of a daze.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Park said, voice moving quickly from stunned to excited. “Accept him, Eli. I would—I would love to share pack with you again. Please.”
Eli looked down, hiding his face, and was quiet for a long moment. When he looked up, his eyes were just a tad shiny, but he had his usual sardonic expression in place and tilted his chin challengingly. “I suppose given the fact that I have no other prospects whatsoever, it’s either your little gang of misfits or a miserably lonely and dangerous existence on my own never feeling safe enough to settle down again.” He tipped his head back and forth, making a huge show of thinking about it. “All right. I accept my alpha.”
Cooper blinked, feeling...odd for some reason. As if something deep inside him had blazed hot and fast like a flare at Eli’s words and quickly settled into a distracting buzz beneath his skin. Probably just sleep deprivation and a bad case of secondhand embarrassment because that was the most awkward phrasing he’d ever heard.
Still, it was all worth it for the expression on Park’s face. He was beaming, there was no other word for it. Overjoyed to have this connection he craved as a wolf. This growing family.
So the wolf world would be watching? Let them. Let them see this love. If anything made Cooper powerful enough to be feared, it was knowing he’d do anything to protect this.
“Great,” he said. “Welcome aboard, I guess. Now what to do I do?”
“How quickly can you learn a short piece of choreography and three lines of Latin?” Eli asked.
“It’s already done,” Park said. “You asked and he answered. We’re pack now.”
* * *
With everything he had needed to get done—timelines to double-check and people to talk to—it was midafternoon when Cooper finally stood beside Cola, observing Freeman through the double mirror.
“And you’re sure about this?” Cola asked.
“Pretty sure.”
“You always know just what to say to set my mind at ease,” Cola said wryly, but nodded him on.
Cooper walked into the interrogation room, and any doubt disappeared the moment he saw the surprise flicker over Freeman’s face.
“Good afternoon,” Cooper said. “I was told you chose not to call your lawyer. Are you still sure you don’t want him here?”
Freeman rolled her shoulders. “I don’t see any reason why I should.”
“All right. Just let me know any time if you change your mind,” he said easily. “I’m here to follow up on our conversation yesterday.”
“Oh?” she asked politely. “Has something changed?”
“No,” Cooper said. “Well, Ryan Basque was shot and killed last night. It turns out he was our murderer. Like you said, no living legend, no unearthly powers. The slippage was just the wolves reacting to a toxin that acts primarily as a paralytic when introduced to wolf cells. The Trust has a team trying to determine the exact formula as we speak. They have a much better shot now that we have samples.”
Freeman smiled thinly. “What good news,” she said.
“Yes,” Cooper agreed. “Really, he had quite a neat little plan going. It’s truly incredible how many pieces just...fell into his lap. This toxin, for example, which seems a bit beyond his capabilities to develop on his own. But also Neil Gerhart, with his convenient trove of information on me. James Finnigan and Arthur Crane, the ideal victims needed to sell his myth. Me going to the zoo at all. Everyone just pulled into this perfect storm.”
“The wolf world is very small and tends to flock together,” she said, shrugging. “You’re a part of that world now.”
It was a simple statement. Clearly not intended to mean much. But still it sent a wave of yes and this and home coursing through his body.
“Agent Dayton?” Freeman said, watching him curiously. “Is something wrong?”
Cooper traced the scab on his hand then adjusted his ring, considering what came next very carefully. “Sorry, I was thinking. You know, Ryan said something interesting last night, and I think it’s quite relevant to our conversation now. ‘The greatest discoveries come from the greatest mistakes.’ It struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t remember why I recognized it until later. You said that to me once.”
“It’s hardly the most unique phrase in the world,” she said dismissively.
“Very true,” Cooper said. “There’s no proof of connection in a shared phrase or a bad feeling. But it did remind me of you. And then Ms. Hirano said something interesting this morning about not knowing who James Finnigan was when she recommended he be hired. See, I would have just thought that was part of the blackmail, but apparently an old colleague of Hirano’s had put his name forward when the wolf keeper position opened up after an unexpected tragedy.” He paused. “You know Niko Hirano, right?”
Freeman shrugged, though an undercurrent of tension made the movement jerky and forced. “We were in undergrad together a long time ago. Shared a lot of the same interests.”
He nodded. “I heard you were quite close. She thanks you in her book, you know. Of course, you should really be thanked for your contributions to the zoo’s video series. Now, that, they really couldn’t have done without your help. Genevieve was just telling me this morning how you were the one who came up with the idea to collaborate with the National Zoo. And how extra thoughtful it was to give her some names of consultants in the area. Consultants like my sister-in-law, Dr. Odell. I had no idea you knew Genevieve.”
“I don’t,” Freeman said.
“But she and your late husband were very close. They used to work together, years ago, right? The first time I met you two, I thought he looked like a commercial actor.”
“What exactly are the charges here? Nepotism? So I made a few professional suggestions,” Freeman said dismissively, looking bored. “That’s all. How was I to know what Ryan Basque would do?”
“Because the whole thing was your idea from the start. Every move and every player,” Cooper said evenly, and watched her eyes darken. “You told him about wolves, set him up with everything he needed to know, then turned yourself in for a nice little alibi.”
“And I did all this why?” she asked. “Out of the generosity of my heart?”
“More like a long-term investment,” he said. “You serve a year’s time while Ryan develops his little business, and then do a silent takeover on your release. The Trust would still be blaming a dead man and you’d be making money hand over fist. Worse comes to worst, you rat Ryan out early in exchange for that deal you were so close to getting. With a new identity, a new life from the Trust themselves, you can launch a business of your own. Either way, you’re walking out of here with two things for sure: the Trust off your back, and a whole case study of how your toxin works to play with and fine tune.”
Freeman blinked at him owlishly. “Don’t you think that’s a tad outlandish?”
“Actually I think i
t’s brilliant,” Cooper said. “Sprinkle some revenge against me and everyone I love on top and there’s no possible scenario where you lose. How could you? Unless we were able to trace the toxin to you, the only thing you’re guilty of is...making a few suggestions.”
“I’m sure if this were true, I would be pretty careful to make sure you couldn’t trace the toxin back to me before turning myself in,” Freeman said. She seemed amused now. Like she was happy that Cooper knew.
“Mmm, I’m sure. It must have taken some trial and error to get the formula right.”
“That’s generally how all good science works,” she agreed.
“Dead tissue samples would only get you so far. You’d need a living test subject. Naturally, you couldn’t kill a werewolf. That would defeat the purpose of setting up this alibi.”
“Naturally,” she said.
“A wolf-wolf, though... It’s not perfect, but there might be enough similarities there. Enough to establish a baseline, anyway.”
Freeman’s face abruptly turned cautious.
Cooper took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Did you know that every time an animal dies at the zoo, they collect tissue samples for long-term storage? We were able to pull up the samples from the three wolves who died there recently.”
Freeman froze, not breathing. He could practically see the wheels spinning behind her wide eyes, the slow, dawning realization that she had made a mistake. That it was over.
“I just heard from our lab,” Cooper said softly. “The toxin that killed them is an exact match for the one collected from James Finnigan and Arthur Crane.”
“Ryan—” she whispered.
“Ryan Basque didn’t even work that exhibit. Besides, the wolves were barely sick before you got there. It was probably nothing more than, what, some kind of viral infection? Tainted meat? But when Hirano called you in to consult, how could you resist such a perfect opportunity? Four live wolves in a controlled environment with all the equipment you needed to run an experiment. You were the only one allowed contact with them, at your own insistence. Something about limiting stress and exposure, I think Hirano said.
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