Callum
“Helpful,” Jet snips.
“Sorry.” Grey sits up straighter, glancing briefly at Jet before facing Lynx again. “It’s just a lot to take in when I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I already told you a lot of what Lynx said.” I frown, because how is this a surprise?
He lifts his hands, “I know, but you didn’t tell me about Ash or the police being involved.” He looks at Lynx. “These are the ones who were there when Fox tortured his dad into signing over their house?”
“Yeah.” Lynx sits forward. “Wilson and Stokes.”
I don’t blame Lynx for not bringing Morgan to this meeting. He’s about as fond of hunters as Jet is, but only half as good at controlling his emotions.
“And they’ve been to the house?”
“Yep,” Jet confirms.
“You think they’re definitely ex-hunters staying there?” I ask, needing confirmation.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “Your descriptions of both the men and the tattoo fit, so I did a bit of digging while I was at the council offices last week. Looks like Fox’s hunter group were disbanded, but the whereabouts of at least five members is unknown.”
“Unknown,” I echo, shaking my head. “And let me guess, no one’s actively looking for them?”
Grey sighs but shakes his head. “It’s a waste of resources.”
Jet snarls. “They were involved with running illegal fucking fight rings! Why are they not locked up somewhere? For fuck’s sake.” He slams his hand down hard on the table, half out of his seat, and Grey flinches.
Jet’s eyes widen, and he lowers himself back down. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and if I hadn’t been watching his mouth move, I’d think I was hearing things, because what the fuck?
I want to glance at Lynx to make sure he heard it too, but I don’t want to make Jet self-conscious, so I keep my eyes to myself.
“I agree with you.” For the first time since he got here, Grey keeps looking at Jet until their eyes meet. “They should be behind bars for what they’ve done. I don’t care if not all of them went to the fights, they all knew what Fox was doing. There’s no secrets in a hunter group.”
“Then why aren’t they?” Jet leans forward, his anger tempered this time as he taps his fingers on the table instead. “Who decided that going after them is a waste of fucking resources?”
“The council.” Grey frowns. “I didn’t have a lot of time when I was there, but it looks like it went to a vote, and the majority decided that disbanding the group was enough punishment.”
Jet snarls. “Of course they did.”
“So they’ve effectively washed their hands of them?” I glance at Lynx. There goes any hope of the council cleaning up their own mess.
Grey shrugs. “Pretty much. I mean, I can go back and report that I suspect they’re gathering here, but that might raise questions you don’t want them asking.”
Like what he was doing here in the first place and how he knew to look at Morgan’s old house. We’ve never had a contact who we can trust on the inside of a hunter group. I don’t want to risk the council finding out about our relationship with Grey, or there’s every chance we’ll both pay for it.
“No.” Lynx stands and paces at the head of the table. “We don’t want to draw the attention of the council.”
“Agreed.” I glance at Jet, then Mal, who both nod.
“What about the police?” Mal asks Grey. “Do you know anything about them?”
“Not really. It goes against our code to involve civilians, so I doubt Fox told them who he really was or about you and your pack.”
“That doesn’t mean he stuck to it,” Lynx offers.
“When I saw Wilson at the hospital with Ash, I’m pretty sure he didn’t know what I am.”
“They’ve been to the house since. We can’t be sure that hasn’t changed.” Lynx stops and crosses his arms. “What happens if we kill them?”
Grey frowns. “The ex-hunters or the police?”
“Both.”
He blows out a breath and leans back. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue. In theory, since the council don’t seem to care about Fox’s old hunter group, or know where they are, then nothing. But if they somehow find out, then . . .” He shrugs.
Yeah. They’d kill us for sure.
“And the police?”
He hesitates, gaze flicking around the room before landing back on Lynx. “You say they were involved in torturing Morgan’s dad?”
He seesaws his hand. “I know they were present when Fox did it, and they were complicit in drugging him and getting him to sign his home away.”
Grey swallows, then tilts his head. “Can you make it look like an accident?”
Lynx’s grin is low, predatory. “Of course we can.”
“There’s no record of Fox’s group listing anyone around here as assets, so as far as the council are concerned, there is no connection.” He doesn’t outright say we can kill them with no consequences, but he might as well have.
“Noted.”
“Anything else?” Grey asks, checking his phone. “I’ll need to get going soon, before I’m missed.”
Jet leans across the table. “Any updates on the fight rings? The council’s still investigating, right?”
Grey winces, and Jet’s low growl echoes around the room. “They are, but—”
“But what?” Lynx cuts in.
“It’s slower progress than I would’ve expected. The ones who came to clear up Fox’s mess were fucking furious that this had happened under their noses. But—” He holds his hands out. “—I haven’t heard much of anything since.”
“And you would’ve?”
Grey sighs. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not the most popular in my group at the minute.” His laugh is bitter. “But we still talk, and nothing’s come down the line about it.” He rubs his wrist. I’m not sure if he realises he’s doing it, but Jet has.
I remember the marks covering his skin the last time he was here, and it looks like I’m not the only one. Jet’s hands flex once before curling into fists on top of the table.
“I really need to get back.” Grey stands, so does everyone else. “I’ll keep an ear out and let you know if I hear anything about . . . any of it.”
“Appreciate it.”
We escort him out to his car. Mal hangs back in the house, but surprisingly, Jet comes out with us.
I tug on Lynx’s arm, holding him back enough that Jet ends up alongside Grey.
Lynx shoots me a side eye, but I give him a subtle head shake.
I could be wrong about this, but I don’t think I am and I want to let it play out.
Grey does a double take when he realises who’s next to him, but he’s quick to hide it.
“Are you safe?” Jet asks, voice pitched low and rough like the words were dragged out of him.
Grey stumbles before righting himself. “What do you mean?”
A growl and a huff of annoyance. “They already hurt you once.” He looks pointedly at Grey’s wrists.
“Oh.” It’s soft, accompanied by a small smile. “Yeah. It’s . . .” He sighs. “It’s manageable.”
Jet’s shoulders tense, anger and frustration tainting the air. That wasn’t the answer he was after.
“I can handle it,” Grey whispers. His hand lifts like he’s about to touch Jet, but he drops it before making contact.
Jet’s gone from his side between one blink and the next, leaving Grey confused, but happy, judging by the scents he’s giving off.
I shake my head, because it seems he’ll never fucking learn. Whatever scraps of attention Jet gives him, Tanner Grey will always be a hunter. And Jet will always hate him for that.
“Keep in touch,” I say as he opens his car door. “But be careful.” He might be a hunter, but I’m reluctantly growing fond of him.
He gives me a mock salute. “I’ll do my best.”
The three of us watch him leave, Jet disappearing as soon as the gates shut behind Grey’s car.
Lynx turns to me and mouths, “What the fuck was that?”
I shrug, because despite what we both just witnessed, I’m not an expert on what goes through Jet’s mind either.
I glance at the fading sunset. We were inside longer than I realised. It won’t be dark for another couple of hours yet, but there’s somewhere I need to be.
Lynx frowns when I make a beeline for my bike. “Going somewhere?”
“You know where.”
“Was hoping I was wrong.”
Fuck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. The breath I draw in is deep, ragged, and does nothing to calm the way my heart rate kicks up. “I need to be there.”
“Will he let you in?”
I shake my head.
“Then why torture yourself. Let someone else watch him tonight.”
He’s right. I should. But we both know I’m not going to.
“I’ll be back at sunrise.”
His heavy sigh adds more guilt to my already heavy shoulders. “You need to sleep at some point.”
“I will,” I shove my hands in my pockets and stare at the ground. “I’m sorry, but I need to be there.”
Strong hands grip my shoulders, as Lynx presses his forehead to the back of my neck. “Never apologise for trusting your instincts.” His grip tightens before letting go. “I just don’t like to see you hurting.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
I track his retreating footsteps until I hear the front door of our home snick shut. Then I get on my bike and ride out to the place that’s been calling my name ever since I left this morning.
Ash is already inside when I get there.
I watch from the same spot amongst the trees.
His scent lingers in the air, faint, but easy enough for me to detect. It hurts, but I still greedily breathe it in anyway.
I do that for hours until there’s barely a trace.
When I’m convinced he’s going to sleep straight through the night, the front door creeps open.
He doesn’t come out straight away, but his scent carries on the breeze: strong enough now to both ease the ache in my chest and make it so much worse. The door inches open and I hold my breath as he slowly steps outside and ambles over to his bench.
The way he slumps down onto it screams exhaustion, and I rethink my assumption that he’s been asleep. That theory is confirmed when he yawns so wide it looks painful.
“Shit.” He rubs both hands over his face. “I’m so fucking tired.”
I assume the same rules apply as last night, so I remain still and silent.