“He may not have been ready to try shifting,” Clint snarled, “but you sure as fuck could have explained it to him. He shifted on instinct to protect Chloe and it absolutely terrified him.”
Staring into Clint’s eyes, I saw the truth of the situation. My brother, my pack Alpha, wasn’t pissed at me for what had happened, he was scared of what damage could have been done, of what the trauma might have done to Sky.
He wasn’t wrong.
One of the reasons that turning a human required an application and proof of informed consent to be legal was the damage that a newborn could inflict if they weren’t properly supervised. I could think of three cases in recent years where a newly-turned were had gone on a rampage and innocents had been killed. Two had been humanely put down. The third – the thought made me wince – the third had suffered a complete break with reality and was locked in a cage at the county mental health center, too damaged to even be killed for his crimes.
I dropped my head deferentially, not something I did often. Not something my twin ever required of me. “You’re right, brother.” I drew in another calming breath. “I should have done that. I should have prepared him.” I swallowed at the lump of shame in my throat, but it refused to go down. “Thank you for helping him.” I forced myself to ask the next question, the one that could mean trouble for Sky because of my fuck up. “Did he turn the jerk?”
“No. He reeked of wolf, so I’m sure he was already a shifter. Sky isn’t strong enough to turn a shifter.” Clint’s anger ebbed instantly and he was pushing Rafe aside to wrap an arm around my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
“No, Alpha, you’re right.” I shook my head. “I fucked up and I needed to hear it.” I sighed. “I should be penalized, as well.”
“Let’s find out what the damage is, first,” Rafe suggested. “If it all ends well then there’s no need to fall on your sword, is there?”
Clint turned to Rafe with a quizzical look. “I knew the council was sending a transport vehicle out, but why are you here?”
Rafe raised a brow in return. “You didn’t ask for me?”
“No.” Clint ran a hand through his still shaggy hair. “I just gave dispatch the name on the asshole’s identification when I called 911.”
Rafe pulled his phone out and re-read the message before hitting a button and raising it to his ear. After a terse exchange, he shoved it back into his pocket with a scowl. “They paged me because the name tripped the alert for another case that’s still open – Harley’s kidnapping.”
I felt my brows creeping up as I looked from one to the other. “Why the hell would someone expect to find Harley at my place?”
“I don’t think he did,” Rafe said with a rough exhale. “Remember when he told us about the cousin who tried to rape him a ways back?”
I nodded. “Don’t remember his name, though.”
“I think it’s literally just a footnote in the file,” Rafe shrugged. “Turns out, he is registered as a private investigator.” He heaved a sigh. “And guess where his license tracks to?”
I shrugged.
“The same address as Foxy’s Den in Salem.”
Clint, Rafe, and I all exchanged a look.
That was definitely a fucking problem.
