Caleb took a second to imagine that scene, thinking she’d hit much closer to the truth than she probably realized. He genuinelyhadbeen making a mess of his life since he was little. Maybe not since he was a baby, but damn close. Of course, he couldn’t blame it all on the werewolf gene.
“No, I didn’t get bitten. And no, I haven’t been this way my whole life, either. That isn’t how it works for us.”
“How does it work, then?”
He sipped his drink, trying to figure out how to explain it. “I’m not a doctor—or a science geek—so don’t hammer me on the details, but basically, some people are born with a gene in their DNA that predisposes them to becoming a werewolf if they’re exposed to the right stimuli.”
“That sounds rather ominous,” Brielle said. “When you say theright stimuli, I’m guessing you’re not talking about a nice, friendly full moon or anything like that?”
Caleb snorted. “I wish it would have been something that simple. No, we have to go through a traumatic event that typically involves a lot of adrenaline and pain. The rush of chemicals in the body flips the gene, and we change. The specific details of the event decide what kind of werewolf we turn into when we come out the other side.”
She considered that. “I have a basic understating of the difference between each type of werewolf, but I don’t understand how the trauma affects what kind of werewolf you become.”
He sighed, really not wanting to talk about this part. Normally, it never bothered him to tell people the nasty details of what had happened to him. But for some reason, he wanted to hide those aspects of his past from Brielle. He didn’t want her knowing about the things he’d done to end up where he was now. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either.
“It’s not all that complicated,” he said, reaching into the bag for some more dill pickle–flavored chips but not eating them yet. “If you go through all that pain and suffering with the best of intentions to save someone else’s life, you come out an alpha. If the pain and suffering isn’t due to any fault of your own and it was one of those wrong-place-wrong-time kind of situations, you come out a beta.”
“And an omega?” she murmured when he didn’t continue. “What has to happen for that outcome?”
He turned his head to look at her, his gaze coming to rest on those beautiful dark eyes, worried that his next words would destroy something that didn’t even exist yet.
“Omegas are the result of going into that horrible, traumatic event with the worst of intentions,” he said softly. “Alphas are created from acts of heroism, betas from morally neutral acts, and omegas from acts of revenge, greed, anger, or hatred. I acted out of revenge. I went into a situation intending to kill some people for what they had done to someone I cared about. It wasn’t about saving anyone. It was about making them pay, pure and simple. And it ended up with me turning into the most out-of-control omega in the world.”
Caleb held his breath, waiting for Brielle to slide off the desk in her desire to put space between the two of them. But instead, she simply nodded and ate a few more potato chips.
“Well? You going to tell me the story or what?” she asked after a few moments of silence, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with hers. “You can’t leave me hanging, not after a confession like that. And, by the way, I doubt you’re the most out-of-control omega werewolf in the world. I’m guessing you’re not even the most out-of-control omega werewolf in Moscow.”
Those were the exact words Caleb needed to hear right then. He had no idea why, especially since that latter part she’d said was almost certainly nonsense, but the fact that Brielle wasn’t horrified made it seem like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders, and he couldn’t help chuckling.
“What do you want to know?” he finally asked.
“Everything,” she said simply, offering him the last of the dill pickle chips with a soft expression that nearly did him in.
“Toby Spencer was my best friend growing up,” he said after finishing the last handful of chips. “Hell, to be honest, he was my only friend. I didn’t have much of a family, so I spent more time at Toby’s place than my own. We were a matching pair of idiots, always skipping classes together, getting into trouble and fights, getting arrested. I probably would have dropped out of school if not for him, but he talked me into going, even though I couldn’t see the use for it.”
Her lips curved in a small smile. “He sounds like a good friend.”
Caleb sighed, lost in the memories. “He was the best. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to keep me from being stupid. When we were in high school, we got involved with some bad people. At first, we just stole merchandise. You know, computers, stereos, car parts. Nothing too serious. All they wanted us to do was the grunt work at that point. We picked up stuff, delivered it, and handled the money. But over time, as we got involved in the drugs and gambling side of the organization, they began to want more from us. We started carrying guns, and the work started to get more violent. Toby wanted us to get out, but I wouldn’t listen. I liked the money, and to a certain degree, I guess I liked that I’d found something I was good at.”
“What happened?” Brielle asked quietly, her expression sympathetic, and he couldn’t help but remember that she’d looked much the same when she’d talked about her brother. He guessed there were a lot of similarities between their lives.
Caleb took a deep breath. “The guy we worked for—I’m not even sure I ever knew his name—decided he didn’t like Toby’s attitude.” This was the first time he’d ever told anyone about this part of the story. “The asshole stood up in the middle of a drug deal and shot him. Just like that. Like Toby’s life didn’t matter at all.”
“What did you do?” Brielle whispered.
“I killed the son of a bitch.” Caleb felt tears in his eyes and quickly blinked them away before she could see. “I didn’t think. I didn’t wait to consider if there was a better way to deal with the situation. I simply walked right up to him and put a bullet through his forehead. Then I turned and started shooting at everyone else who worked for him. I was so frigging angry; I wanted to kill them all. I didn’t care what happened to me.”
Brielle smiled again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems like you haven’t changed all that much since then. You’re still shooting first and thinking later.”
More weight slid off his shoulders at her teasing and he let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I nearly died that night and ended up doing five years in prison. But in a lot of ways, I suppose I’m still the same person I was back then. I just have fangs and claws now.”
He picked up the package of Russian oatmeal cookies and opened it, then held it out to Brielle. He felt a lot more relaxed now, after unloading his history on her and realizing she wasn’t totally disgusted.
“Okay, you got involved with bad people, shot a few of them, and went to jail.” She took a cookie in her slender fingers and nibbled on it. “How did you get from there to STAT?”
Caleb laughed as he grabbed a few cookies. “It was a long and winding road, involving a series of increasingly poor life choices and a run-in with the Dallas SWAT team that just so happens to be made up entirely of alpha werewolves. I was looking at an extended stay in a fine Texas facility when McKay paid me a visit. The guy in charge of the SWAT team I mentioned sent him my way, thinking I might be the kind of person he was looking for to start up this new kind of STAT field team that was a mix of regular people and supernaturals, fighting the good fight and all that jazz.”
“I don’t really know you that well, but I have to say that doesn’t really seem like the best way to recruit you,” Brielle murmured.
