How did she know? How did she know just what to say to make my throat tighten and my eyes burn? The spot in my chest where the bond had connected glowed and pulsed, and I realized it was a two-way communication. Just like I felt her concerns, fears, and happiness, she could feel mine.
"Come, mate." Deslen moved quickly, scooping up our mate. "Let's clean you up. I'll run a bath that will soothe any aches."
"Watch out," she giggled, looping her arms around his neck. “If you keep giving me the princess treatment, I'm going to get used to it and expect it all the time.”
Leaning in close, he gave her a wolfish smile. "That's the goal. I don't want you knowing anything else but this princess treatment."
Watching them go up the stairs, my shoulders remained relaxed, my breathing even. I leaned back against the table, a small smile tugging at my lips. I was glad she had a mate like Deslen who put her bodily needs above all else.
Zeth sidled up next to me, pants already magically on, hands crossed over his chest as he watched them. "You know what we need to do, right?"
Remembering how she felt, the loss, the heartbreak, the void that even we couldn't fill, I growled. “Fucking Nick.”
He sighed and nodded. "Fucking Nick."
While Deslen was the mate who would take care of her body, Zeth and I were the ones that would take care of her mind and heart. Our mate deserved to be whole, and this anger inside of me needed an outlet. It was time we paid Nick a visit.
30
NICK
The wolf mug stared back at me from my desk, its chipped grin mocking me. The guys thought it was funny, their little “welcome back” gift. Every time one of them walked past, I caught the smirk, the snicker under their breath, the muttered ‘good boy.’They laughed, but I could smell their fear beneath their cologne and sweat. That sour tang used to come from suspects, not my so-called friends and co-workers.
I used to be one of them—late-night takeout, card games between shifts, brothers-in-arms. Now, the air between us weighed heavy, full of sharp tension and foreign looks.
When did their jokes start to become annoying?When did the bullpen start smelling like something I wanted to escape?
The captain’s gaze snagged mine from across the room, suspicion coiled behind his eyes just as it had the night I’d brought in the kid. His mouth had tightened then, too.Did she do this? You get her? Can we finally kick out that bitch?
His face fell with disappointment as I explained how she’d rescued the boy. The words had fallen from my lips withoutthinking. I remembered praising her for her fast action and leadership. I left out anything to do with the doctor or his experiments, making it sound like the boy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn’t make her his monster—not how he wanted me to.
After I was done, he yelled at me, ordering me off the case. Instead, I was to sit at my desk for beat cop work. According to him, I was a disappointment, but for some reason, that hurt less than I thought it would.
When I asked what he wanted me to do with the kid, he’d replied, “Do whatever you want with the supe’s brat.” With the way I felt when I heard those words, I’d expected a growl to come from my chest, but the wolf inside was silent.
Once he’d walked away, I grabbed the kid and got him a soda, a bag of chips, and some candy before taking him to one of the interview rooms for some privacy. His hands shook as I passed him the food, his eyes looking around like he knew he was in a place he shouldn’t be.
“How did you know I was a cop?”
Shaking his head, the boy fingered the soda can before he whispered, “The other human kids. I overheard them talking at the gas station about an Officer Cordova being turned into a werewolf.” He gulped hard, stuttering when he continued. “T-that the f-force l-lost a g-good one.”
Stupid brats must’ve been some of the other officers' kids since the captain had been trying to keep my name out of the press. Only people at the precinct knew the details about my change, but it was bound to get out sooner or later.
After a smile to set him at ease and a few more minutes, I learned more about him. The boy’s mother had just passed, and his dad was trying to find a way to support him. Dad had taken the job because it paid well. He thought his dad was a good guy, and he wanted to stay with him.
A deep rumble worked its way up my chest—the first sound the wolf had made since that night in the cave… since Nova turned away, eyes full of that quiet, final kind of hate.
I’d thought I wanted him gone. The beast. The instinct. But his silence had hollowed me out in ways I hadn’t expected. Standing there in that fluorescent-lit office, I realized how lonely I felt once the thing inside me stopped talking to me.
It wasn't long before some lady came by looking for the boy. She was human, but she said that the Syndicate sent her to collect him and take him to a local safe house until his father was found. Since the captain didn't give a shit, it felt like the best option.
The next morning, my uniform fit wrong. Too tight at the throat, fabric scratching my skin like it was punishing me. I told myself it was just in my head. Undercover work messed people up, and I just needed to readjust. Breathe.
Except breathing felt impossible.
And I missed that damn fucking silk suit. The feel of it. The freedom. The space to move, tobe.
A stack of paperwork was waiting on my desk, and I almost laughed at the sight. Paperwork. For a werewolf. My knuckles cracked against the edge of the desk so hard the mug rattled. I could chase down a perp in the dark with just a scent, run faster than any man in the precinct, and lift up a car with my bare hands, but I was stuck here with a stack of forms.
