by Yara Gharios
"Hey," Logan starts, and he sounds much more relaxed than he did earlier in the diner. "You guys here to shift?"
We exchange looks and come to another silent agreement, although I don't like it. We can't separate now, or else it'll look suspicious.
"Actually, we were just taking a walk," Mason says calmly.
"Oh," he says, sounding surprised. "Well, would you like to join us?"
Although he said it normally, I can tell he's being extra polite by inviting us to shift with them. I can't stress enough how unusual it is for a pack as big and powerful as theirs is to invite strangers to share things with them. It makes me wonder again what Logan's game is, going against all the rules of conduct I've grown up knowing about packs like his.
"Thanks, but we've been out here for a while now, and we should really get back," Connor declines as respectfully as he can. It just serves to add more tension.
"Are you sure?" he checks, sounding almost disappointed.
That's when I make the mistake of looking up and my eyes instantly meet Logan's. In the dark, it's even harder to tell what color they are. The heat I felt in the diner rises again, and it's even stronger this time, because neither of us breaks eye contact. I'm too intimidated to look away, but I don't know why he won't.
The others, my brothers and Logan's pack members, all notice the staring match and feel the thickening tension between the two of us. I know that I'm going to have to be the one to break it.
"Yeah, we're sure," I say, and my voice sounds strained. It's just so hard to talk normally when he's staring at me like that. Especially since I can't look away, and my body feels like it's in flames.
"No need to be so territorial," Cade says, a warning in his voice.
They've misinterpreted the reason for the tension. But at least I know now why Logan won't look away; I'm practically challenging him by looking at him straight in the eyes. I'm thankful that Cade spoke, because it finally gives me something to look at other than Logan. The beta's hands are locked into fists like he's preparing for a fight. I need to calm the situation down.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to give you that impression," I say honestly, and I'm glad that my voice sounds steady and sincere. "It's not about territory, we're just not used to running with anyone outside our family. You can relax now."
All at once, the SMP members seem to deflate, except for Logan. Then they notice that they listened to someone other than their alpha and resume their rigid postures. But when Logan's shoulders relax and a small smile appears on his face, they slacken again.
"Some other time, maybe," he says, and it's the closest to friendly I've ever heard him sound. "When we're more used to each other."
I don't want to dispute him, and I especially don't want to keep looking at him, so I just nod and glance at my brothers like I'm telling them that we should go. Thankfully, they follow my lead and nod their heads in respect for Logan. Then, we all turn around and walk away.
Judging by the lack of footsteps, I can tell they're still standing in their spot, watching us leave. We don't dare say a word to each other in case they're also listening. It's only when I see our house that I look back. They are just silhouettes in the dark now, and they're retreating to the trees; all but one.
When we get home, we're too exhausted to say anything to our parents, so we mutually agree to put it off till morning, and each one goes to his room. I lock myself in my bathroom, draw that much needed hot bath and do what I said I would do; I shift. It's not as much of a relief as it would have been if I was out in the open, but it's all I can do. I prance around in my bathroom for a while, thankful that it's quite big, and even play with the water in the tub a little, pretending it's a pond or a river.
But then my fur becomes so soaking wet that it's almost heavy. I repress the urge to shake it off, mostly because I don’t have the energy to clean up the bathroom afterward, and I just shift back.
All things considered, the hot water did relax me and eased all of the tension from my shoulders. I have to come to terms with the fact that, for the time being, this is going to have to be my only method of blowing off steam.
Chapter 8
Logan
Their hushed voices are easy to detect from outside, but I can't make out what they're saying exactly. It sounds like they're having an argument. It's late at night, so their boys are probably in bed by now, and they might not want to wake them. Either that, or they're just expecting us.
I knock on their door three times before their conversation is cut short. Then I hear footsteps approaching, and seconds later, Mr. Mariner greets Cade and me at the door. Unlike the way his wife welcomed us yesterday, it's clear he's not happy about how she told us to come back.
"Listen kid," he says in a tone that suggests he's about to send us away.
I don't give him that opportunity. "I won't bother you for long; I just have a couple of questions."
He briefly glances inside at where his wife is undoubtedly standing. "I know my wife gave you the impression that I can help you, but I don't think I can."
My mood begins to sink. I was already more nervous than eager to finally get some information, but I begin to lose what little hope I have left that I actually will.
"Why not?" I reply politely. "Why can't you say anything? Can you at least explain that?"
His wife appears by his side before he can think up an answer. "Sweetheart," she says soothingly, although her voice is shaking, "we have to tell him something. We don't have to say everything, but he got into all this trouble to get to us."
He throws her a hard stare. "Do you have any idea the trouble we would be in if we did?"
She eyes him levelly. "Of course, I do," she retorts, her tone defiant. "But he still deserves to know that, like he said."
Cade and I hold our breaths, waiting hopefully. A werewolf's mate is really a great companion, sometimes acting as the voice of reason. Like now. I just hope his ego is not too big that it wouldn't allow him to listen to his wife.
Finally, he sighs. "Alright, fine," he relents. "Come in."
"Thank you," I say in earnest.
Whatever it is that's holding them back, it must be serious, and I truly am grateful that they're taking a chance in talking to us.
They let us into the living room, like last time. The house is quiet, but I notice Jace is sleeping in the armchair, a pillow preventing him from falling.
"I'll go fix us something to drink," Mrs. Mariner declares before going into the kitchen.
"So I assume you're about to explain why you can't tell us Alpha Cameron's motives in putting that list together or including you on it?" Cade bluntly guesses.
"Look, it's not that I don't want to tell you," Mr. Mariner objects. "Believe me, I want to honor his memory and reveal everything. He was a good man, he died too soon."
Again, my chest tightens. The memory stings even more now that we've moved here. But I'm also losing hope again that I will learn anything substantial.
"Then why don't you?" I challenge. "What are you so afraid of?"
I accidentally raise my voice with that last question, which wakes Jace up. His cries pierce the silence of the night, and my ears. That is one very loud cry-baby. I'm almost considering letting the issue go, to leave and never come back.
His father rushes to his side and starts cooing to soothe him. I don't know how he stands to be so near someone who could quite literally damage his hearing, but he doesn't seem to mind it one bit.
"He needs a diaper change," Mr. Mariner declares. "I'm going to run upstairs and get some, alright? You stay here and watch him."
"Can we help?" I offer. If it will pacify the man enough to be more forthcoming, I am prepared to do anything.
He hesitates at the door but caves when Jace's cries intensify. "Actually, if you could lay him on his mat over there, on the ground, just take the diaper off and keep holding his legs up, that would be great."
Wait, what? He wants me to change a diaper? What about hi
s wife? Surely, she can hear their son from the kitchen.
Technically, that's not what he said, but he does want me to do the disgusting part. Unfortunately, I've already offered, so I can't back down.
"Uh, sure," I finally agree.
Mercifully, that's when Mrs. Mariner strolls in with a tray of lemonade cups for all of us. "I got it," she assures me.
I watch her pull him up from the armchair, mumbling soothing nonsense, and place him on his mat, before moving on to the diaper removal and wiping. It's a disgusting sight, but I am mesmerized by the devotion in her eyes, so I can't keep my eyes off the pair.
Mr. Mariner then returns. Between the two of them caring for him, Jace calms down in seconds. I never thought I'd be envious of a little baby. A few minutes later, they sit back on the couch with Mrs. Mariner rocking Jace to sleep.
"Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love?" Mr. Mariner suddenly. "To have them ripped from you right when you need them the most?"
The question is very random, but I don't think about his motives for asking when I eye him levelly and say, "Yes. I lost both my parents."
He nods. "If you had known beforehand that something was going to happen to them, what would you have done to protect them?"
"Whatever it takes," I immediately answer, starting to understand where this is going.
He nods again and pauses to let that sink in. "Cameron himself warned us," he goes on. "If anyone finds out what we did for him, there would be consequences. So we kept it secret, even though we didn't fully understand why."
I am more confused now. "Mr. Mariner, what is going on?"
He sighs, glancing at his wife and son. "The last time someone came asking questions about Cameron, and we refused to tell them," he pauses, "Jace was taken from us for two days."
I blanch.
"What?!" Cade says in a sharp whisper. "How?"
Mr. Mariner looks at us again. "We don't know. There wasn't a trail left behind, so we thought it was a human. We even went to the police and filed a report. There was an investigation the whole time he was gone. He was only six months old."
Mrs. Mariner's eyes brimmed with tears.
"The second night, we couldn't leave his room, and we fell asleep on the floor," Mr. Mariner continues. "We woke up to him crying in his crib, like he's been there the whole time. We didn't notice the note right away because we were so happy to have him back, and there wasn't a trail left this time either."
"The note?" I repeat, confused.
"Yes, there was a note," he confirms somberly. "At first, I thought they were going to threaten my son's life again if we didn't cooperate, but they must have realized we truly didn't know anything. Instead, they warned us to forget all about Cameron, and never speak of what we did for him with anyone, especially not someone in his pack, or else something much worse would happen. We didn't even dare look for him, although we didn't know he was already dead."
I take a moment to process this. There are millions of questions I'm dying to ask, but after hearing their story, I'm not sure I want to anymore. Obviously, I am more intent than ever on finding out what my dad was doing, but I can't risk the life of anyone else for that, especially not an innocent child.
I choose my next words carefully. "Mr. Mariner, I just have one more thing I want to ask, and I promise it doesn't put your family in danger."
He eyes me carefully, but doesn't say anything.
"Was my father doing something illegal?"
He visibly relaxes. "No," he replies. "Like I said, your father was a good man. That's why it doesn't make sense that the favor he asked us to do would get him killed, or would push someone to kidnap Jace to keep us quiet about it. But somebody seems to think it is, so I'm not about to put my son's life in danger for the second time."
I only hear the first part of what he says; I am too horrified to listen to the rest. "You think he was killed? Because of the favor you did for him?"
There is a hard look in his face. "After my wife told me that he's dead, I am certain he was. I didn't think much of it at the time, but after we helped him, your father said he would protect us. Two years ago, he died, and a few months later, my son was taken. It's not hard to put two and two together."
My father's death was ruled as an accident; he fell from a high distance. Hearing Mr. Mariner say that he was murdered is a complete shock to my system.
My father was murdered, I repeat robotically.
I hear Cade call my name, but I am unable to answer. I am unable to form a coherent sentence or find a rational denial that explains his death in a natural way.
"Maybe you should leave," Mr. Mariner suggests. "This is a lot to take in."
Mrs. Mariner doesn't disagree with him, like last time. In fact, she doesn't acknowledge us at all and just keeps on rocking her baby, even though he's already fast asleep.
Cade grabs my arm and pulls me up. I numbly follow him out and into the passenger seat. He doesn't speak to me until the Mariner's house is far behind us.
"Are you okay, man?"
"My father was murdered, Nash," I finally say it out loud, and I'm surprised by how calm my voice is.
"We don't know that for sure," he counters. "Maybe they're just confused. God knows they're scared to death."
My thoughts suddenly clear up as my determination flares, and I face him. "They were telling the truth," I insist. "He's right; it's too much of a coincidence that just after my father died, Jace was kidnapped."
Cade doesn't say anything else. I can tell he doesn't want to question me. A plan is already forming in my mind. I didn't know what I was getting into when I first received the list. I've only been alpha since I turned 21, and that list is for alpha eyes only. My uncle Cliff hadn't known what to do with it, so he left it for me when I came of age. I came here without a clue as to what the list means or what I am going to do about it. But now, it's crystal clear. There's really only one thing I can do.
"Tomorrow, we're coming back," I decide. "I'm going to give them two choices; either they join us and receive our protection, or they leave town and get as far away from here as they can. Either way, I am going to find out what is the favor they did for my father."
"Don't you think we should lay off them for a while?" Cade suggests. "They're already traumatized enough as it is. Maybe if you give them time to calm down, they'll come around on their own."
I mull it over for a moment. He does have a point. "Alright," I agree. "We'll give them some space for a few weeks. In the meantime, I want to visit the other names on the list. Maybe they'll be more forthcoming."
It's not just about understanding what my father was doing anymore. One of those families on that list knows what happened to him. If I could find out what -or who- got him killed, maybe I'll finally get closure. More importantly, I have to honor his memory and make sure he didn't die in vain.
Chapter 9
Michael
The next morning at breakfast, the parental units are informed of last night's run-in with the wolves. Their reactions are exactly as to be expected; alarmed and anxious. When Dad is usually like this, he is a very bad listener, so it's a struggle to calm him down and slowly explain everything that happened.
"Are you sure they didn’t suspect a thing?" Dad checks, after we've assured him time and time again that we're safe.
"Yes, Dad," I repeat patiently. "I’m sure."
"I’m just checking," Dad says. "Alpha Underwood is anything but dumb; it’s easy for him to catch on. We have to be more careful than usual."
This seemed a bit hard to process. I mean, how much more precautions can we take? We already limit our contact to people outside the family, we barely go out without one of our own, and even in our home, I am treated like a boy. If anybody was listening in on our conversation right now, they still wouldn't be able to know that I'm a girl, because we never acknowledge it out loud. They'd just think we're hiding something.
"What else can we do?" Daniel voices my thoughts,
sounding as confused as I feel.
"We can’t have them suspect anything," Dad tells us. "At the moment, we can get away with the excuse that we’re still not used to each other, but that won’t be good enough after a while. At the very least, you boys will have to be civil. It might even be good that you form ties with them, though of course, not deep enough to reveal secrets."
My brothers and I stare at each other to make sure we all understood the same thing. By their expressions, I’m guessing we did.
"So... you want us to be friends with them, but not best friends?" Danny asks, a hint of sarcasm seeping through his voice.
Dad catches his incredulousness and frowns at him. "There’s no need to use that tone," he says. "You boys know very well what we would have to do if we can’t coexist with the Silver Moon pack. This is their land, not ours. We’d have to leave. Your mother and I are already looking into unclaimed territories in case we have to take off on short notice."
The news is more of a shock than it should be. My dad always plans ahead with everything, and it’s really no surprise that he would have an emergency escape plan. But it’s still astonishing that he would uproot us so… easily. Like it’s no big deal, when in fact all of us have loved living here since we moved.
Out of the five of us, Connor is probably the only one with some faint memories of our family’s life before I came in the picture and keeping my gender secret became a priority for them. He was six years old when my parents left the Redwood pack. But he still always gives the impression that he loves living here more than anything.
"Dad, we can’t just leave," I try to object. "Our whole life is here."
He gives me a pointed look. "Which part of it? Your friends? Your relatives? Your hometown?"
I wince at the reminder. Daniel and I may have been the only ones to have been born here, right in this very house in fact, but it still feels like our hometown. When it comes to relatives, Mom and Dad are the only ones we have. They never even talk about the rest of their immediate family members. As for friends, we don’t have any real ones other than each other because of this very reason; at any moment, Dad might make us all move.