Chapter Two
Matt
I was making the ‘before you take your clothes off’ small talk with Gideon when I heard keys jiggling outside.
Oliver returning so quickly made me worried, so I focused in.
The smell of fear mixed with Oliver’s sunshine, roses, and fresh ocean breeze raised my hackles.
My legs rushed me outside before I could even comprehend what was happening.
He looked so scared, his blue doe eyes wide and body shivering. I wanted to hunt down whoever the fuck made my Oliver scared.
Knowing it was a werewolf made it worse. I swear to god, when I get my hands on this son of bitch, he’s going to regret being born.
When Oliver looked like he wouldn’t hyperventilate at the slightest breeze, I left him. His eyes were already drooping, probably tired from all the overthinking his brain was doing. With the adrenaline already worn off, he was dead to the world within minutes.
I jog up the stairs to the apartment of the only other werewolf in the building. Maybe I can wait for him to come back?
A strong smell of blood consumes my senses, dripping in fear and violence. It’s not bad enough for humans to catch on, but for me, it drowns out every other scent on the floor.
Whatever happened inside happened recently.
A chill runs down my spine at the thought that Oliver could have been inside that apartment instead of safely tucked in his bed. Red fills my vision, and my hands curl into fists. I take a few long breaths, fighting to keep my claws from sliding out.
I need to be sane right now. I can deal with my very complicated, very inconvenient feelings for the tempting little human across the hall later.
I put my ear against the door, listening for any signs of life. I concentrate hard. If anyone so much as inhales, my ears will catch it. As I feared, no one made it out of whatever happened in there.
Except Dalton Smith, who is now number one on my shit list.
I slide my hand inside my pocket for my phone, but it’s not there. Right, I left in a rush. It’s a good thing I was at least still wearing my clothes, or I would have given Oliver another scare.
Or would that have helped him?
Focus, Matt!
I run downstairs again. No point in breaking down the door and risking waking up the neighbors. No one in there needs urgent help.
I unlock my door. I need to call Nick and Meena. I push the door open. We might need to bring in the whole—
A squeak startles me. A man stands right in front of me, his hand in the air as if he was reaching for the doorknob.
Fuck, I completely forgot about the guy I left in my apartment.
Once he calms down, he looks up at me. “Do you still want to fuck?” he offers.
I check if my body has any fucks left to give and come up empty.
“No, man, thanks for coming though,” I walk inside, already looking for my phone.
“Whatever,” he says, angry. Guess I won’t be calling him again.
I locate my phone on the kitchen counter. I dial Nick and start pacing my living room. He picks up right away.
“This better not be a booty call,” he singsongs.
“Even I’m not desperate enough to sleep with my almost brother,” I blanch.
“Then why are you calling me this late?”
“As if you’re ever asleep by 12:30,” I comment. “Anyway, we have an emergency.”
I hear crackling on the other side, then his voice comes back clearer. “What happened?”
“There are dead bodies in the werewolf’s apartment upstairs. I thought we should check it out before the rest of your team gets involved.” Nick is a detective with the LAPD.
“Fuck, man. Is he in the apartment too?” he asks. The background noise tells me he’s already on the move.
“No, he ran away. That’s actually what made me check his apartment in the first place. Oliver saw him—”
“Wait, I’m switching to the car speaker,” Nick says.
I wait, growing impatient.
His voice comes back. “Yeah, go on. You were saying something about the human you can’t stop talking about seeing the creepy old wolf dude upstairs?”
“I don’t talk about Oliver. Like, ever,” I say, confidently.
“We literally have a drinking game for how much you mention him per night.”
“As if you people need another reason to drink,” I sniff. “Anyway, Oliver saw him running down the stairs half-shifted and freaked out.”
“He’s okay, right?” Nick asks, all signs of teasing gone.
“Just really scared. No physical harm.”
“Maybe now you can tell him about yourself,” he says, casually.
“What?” My feet still, surprised by the turn this conversation took.
“Why can't you just tell him about us and then date him? Don't you trust him?” Nick says, like he’s making all the sense in the world.
My heart beat picks up. “I don't know him. Besides, he doesn't deserve that,” I say, my voice cracks a little without my permission. “How can you even suggest that? You know how the Bureau treats humans who are aware. The constant surveillance, threat, and distrust. Their lives are never the same—”
“You know it’s not a burden for everyone,” Nick interrupts. “I don’t know what those people said to you, Matty, but they were assholes—”
“I don't want to talk about it,” I snap. I don't have the energy to discuss my fucked up relationship with my old foster parents before Nick’s family took me in.
“Alright, I’m parking at the back of your building. Meet me at the guy’s apartment in two,” he says, all business now, and hangs up.
I give a quick call to Meena, our LA Werewolf Regulation Bureau supervisor. She promises she’ll be here within the next hour.
The Bureau was formed to maintain our secret and look into crimes committed by or against werewolves across the world. The inbuilt weapons and lack of evidence can make human courts useless when it comes to werewolf-related crimes.
Nick and I both started working for the Bureau right after school. I eventually joined the LAFD, and Nick chose the LAPD. The Bureau has trained officers in every emergency department across all major cities to ensure every werewolf-related instance is flagged and appropriate measures taken.
Nick, with his natural werewolf bulk, is almost as tall as me. But that’s where our similarities end. He has classic good-boy looks, with a straight nose, blue eyes, a sharp jaw, and light brown hair. Very few people know the guy is more rottweiler than golden retriever.
He walks up to where I’m waiting for him, work mode on.
“I doubt anyone is up in any of these apartments,” I point at the other apartments on the floor. “But let’s try and keep it down.”
He nods and gives me a one-armed hug before taking out a key.
Okay, so he might have a little more golden retriever energy than I acknowledge.
“It reeks,” he wrinkles his nose. “At least two people. You’re right. Both humans.”
Nick’s tiny key works its magic, and the lock clicks.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” I ask.
“He might. I doubt he was expecting to get caught tonight.”
We walk into a bright living room. Either the guy was planning to come back soon, or he was okay with paying a very large electricity bill.
Two bodies, both male and sporting deep claw marks on their abdomens, lie in the middle.
“I’m getting a faint whiff of some weird chemical stuff,” Nick loudly sniffs.
I quietly close the door behind me. “Yeah, me too.” I crouch down in front of the men. It’s difficult to get much over the blood.
Nick moves around the apartment, already gloved up.
“I’ll call in Marcus and Sloan,” I announce, receiving a distracted “Alright” from the bedroom.
Marcus, a registered medical examiner, Bureau agent, and prominent member of the ‘Let’s Give Matt Shit’ club, shows up within fifteen minutes. I open the door when I hear his steps, heavy and rushed.
“I expect this from Nick, but now you’re getting me bodies too?” Marcus looks tired and recently showered, his hair still wet. “I just spent seven hours crouched over a corpse, you know.” But he’s already putting on gloves as he complains.
“And now you have two more,” I say cheerfully. I’ve heard enthusiasm can make boring tasks fun.
Marcus gives me a side-eye. The motivation technique clearly doesn’t work. Or maybe Marcus, who looks like he hasn’t seen a bed other than the ones occupied by dead people in the last forty-eight hours, isn't the best test subject.
“They might have been drugged before they were stabbed,” Marcus leans over the bodies. “I’ll know more after getting some tests done. You called Meena yet?”
“Yeah, she should be here soon,” I tell him from the corner of the room, not wanting to destroy any evidence.
As a firefighter working for the Bureau, my work is more tramping over evidence (only if we suspect werewolf involvement, and I have to fill out exhaustive reports every time), not preserving and observing.
By the time Sloan, LAPD’s Crime Scene Photographer and another member of Nick’s ‘We Should Hang Out with Other Werewolves More’ group, arrives, Nick has finished his initial inspection.
“I found unlabelled vials and injections, all empty. I’ve bagged a few to trace fingerprints,” he informs us.
Sloan gets to work right away. “So how did you notice the bodies, Matt?” she asks after she’s done taking pictures.
Nick smirks. “His human saw Dalton running away.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh, is Oliver alright?” Sloan asks, concerned.
“How the fuck…? You know what? I don’t even want to know. He’s fine. Just a little spooked,” I say.
“Well, good thing he has his big bad wolf to protect him,” she grins.
I glare at her. At six feet, she’s not all that much shorter than me. But that wasn’t the concerning thing about her statement!
“He doesn’t have a big bad wolf, and I’m a nice person,” I retort. “...Sometimes.”
She laughs. “You’re going to report it to Meena?” she asks, suddenly serious.
“I kinda have to, don’t I?” I gesture towards the bodies.
Nick pats my arms lightly. “Don’t worry, they’ll just observe him for some time. He won’t even know,” he says hesitantly.
I turn to look at him, but the pity in his eyes is too much. So, I turn to Sloan instead. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Shit, right!” She pats my other arm and goes to the kitchen.
I’m luckily saved from more arm pats by the arrival of Meena. You wouldn’t look at her bright pink sundress and full face of makeup and think that she’s a big shot in the werewolf world. Her five-foot-five stature brings the biggest werewolves to their knees.
Let’s just say werewolves have an internal power detector pre-installed in their heads. They recognize people who can fuck them up and are wise enough to back off when they know they’ll lose.
“We accosted the resident of the house on the street, but he escaped,” she informs us, her face grim. “Two agents are still trailing him.”
We nod, already knowing the chances of them finding him tonight are slimmer than Schitt’s Creek getting a reboot. I almost volunteer to join the search, but that would require me to not be in the same building as Oliver. I don’t think I can do that right now.
“Anyway, Matthew, talk to me. Did you suspect the guy and come to check his apartment?” She stands beside me, letting the others do what they do best… outside of keeping track of unnecessary details about my life.
I hesitate only a second before telling Meena everything.
About how Oliver was so scared that he couldn’t even open his door.
Remembering that look on his face makes me furious all over again.
I explain everything he saw and how I convinced him it wasn’t suspicious. Nick joins us halfway through my recap.
“Alright, I’ll initiate the protocol for Oliver,” she says.
I already knew she would say this, but my heart still lurches at the idea of a bunch of werewolves digging into Oliver's life and interacting with him. But it’s for his own good. He can’t know the truth.
I’m so engrossed in convincing myself to calm down that I almost miss Nick’s next words.
“I was thinking,” he says, dramatically tapping his index finger on his chin.
“Yes, Nicholas?” Meena gives him the universal ‘get on with it’ gesture.
“The human, Oliver,” Nick’s gaze snaps to mine, “already knows Matt, right?”
My eyes get wider with every word. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? I signal him to abort whatever he’s planning, but he isn’t looking at me anymore.
He continues, laying it on thick. “He also trusts him. They’ve been neighbors for over a year. They’re basically pals. I’m pretty sure Matt is Oliver’s emergency contact.”
“Well, that’s not…wise,” she comments.
“Hey!” I say. Even if it’s definitely not true, I’d make a great emergency contact. I’m a first responder, dammit!
They ignore me.
“They’re close, and they live right across the hall from—”
Meena interrupts him. “I’m glad Matthew has a good social life. I also could have survived without knowing anything about it. Would you get to the point?”
“We don’t really need to bring in another agent to convince Oliver he didn’t see anything. Matt can do it from right across the hall,” he finishes with a flourish.
“You could have just said that! We’re always glad to have volunteers take some work off our plates,” she says, easily. She looks at me. “Matthew, are you alright to handle the human?”
Am I? No. Absolutely not. Say no, Matt! “Umm…”
“Great,” Meena claps her hands. Wow! They’re really desperate to delegate tasks, huh? “Spend some time with him. Talk to him a few times and see where his mind’s at. You have my number if you need any help.” She pats my arm and walks away to check on Sloan.
Nick gives me a grin and a thumbs-up. I glare at him until he walks away, too.
“The cleanup crew will be here in an hour, and they’ll transport the bodies. We’re not expecting Dalton to make a reappearance here. And Matthew, the great agent he is, volunteered to take care of the human,” Meena summarizes. “You all can leave.”
“You really are a nice person,” Sloan says solemnly, elbowing my side as we’re walking to the stairs.
I glare at her, too.
There goes my master plan of ignoring Oliver forever.