Chapter Twenty One
Oliver
Nick gently walks me over to my surprisingly intact couch, and I sit there for who knows how long. My house is overrun by strangers. Well, not really. Marcus and Sloan stand in front of a handcuffed, very human-looking Dalton.
And I know Nick, who’s sitting on one of the armchairs beside mine.
I can hear Dalton shouting something, but I can’t make out the words. Everything is a bit out of focus. A little slow.
My mind’s running on overdrive, refusing to focus on anything other than the memory of Matt's inhuman face.
Sharper cheekbones.
Glowing eyes.
He almost looked ethereal.
Beautiful.
The hurt on his face didn’t change that. Not one bit.
I will myself to remember how he hid this massive secret from me.
All his behavior makes so much sense now.
His insistence that I stop my investigation.
That Dalton was just a drug addict. His deplorable investigation skills were just another way to misguide me.
I almost feel relieved that Matt isn’t actually that dumb, that bad at lying.
But he’s been lying to me for weeks. Who knows what else he’s lied about?
Adrenaline still courses through my body. My heart beats so fast, I'm amazed it hasn't launched out of my body.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Nick says, slicing through my tangled thoughts. “I injected him with anti-shift serum. That’ll prevent him from shifting for at least twenty-four hours.”
I nod, realizing that out of the ten thousand thoughts vying for my attention, none are about the possible danger surrounding me. It surprises me a bit, but I trust these people. I try not to think too much about why.
Because you still trust Matt. You’re hopeless!
“Oliver?” Nick places a tentative hand on my arm. I focus on his touch, the heat he generates. It's grounding. “Meena will be here to tell you everything, but I might as well get started.”
Reality slams into me. I drop back into my body.
“Matt, where’s Matt?”
“Back at his apartment,” Nick answers, rubbing the back of his neck.
Of course, why would he be here?
Focus, Oliver. We don’t like Matt right now!
Nick continues. “We’re werewolves. All of us. You know that now, right? You work for Laura's show, so you know.”
I find myself nodding.
“We all work for an international organization called the Werewolf Regulation Bureau. Its main purpose is to keep our secret and ensure crimes committed by and against werewolves are met with justice.”
“That’s pretty cool.” Hey, I can still appreciate the James Bond-ness of it all.
There’s a knowing tilt to Nick’s smile. “Isn’t it? It's very difficult to prove the crimes committed by werewolves in a human court because they don’t really need additional weapons, so the evidence is far more limited. Except this one time, this dumbass used—”
Nick stops at my confused face. It sounds like a cool story, but the adrenaline is wearing off, and I’m really freaking the fuck out now.
So, everyone here is a secret agent? Are they going to kill me now because I know too much?
Fuck, is that why Matt was trying to stop my investigation?
Why am I so dumb? I could have just gone without sleep for a few months.
“Right, so, the Bureau assigns agents to every emergency service to make sure we do all of that.”
I nod aggressively. “That's good. A good organization. Smart even!” Ass-kissing won’t save you, Oliver.
Okay, why’s the sassy voice still here?
I’m you, dumbass!
Yeah, I need some sleep.
“Yeah…” Nick tilts his head, confused by my sudden enthusiasm. “We also make sure there are no accidental sightings, like with that asshole there.” Nick points to Dalton, who’s unconscious now. “Matt was assigned to deal with you.”
My eyes go wide. “You mean…like…” I enact slashing my throat, complete with the appropriate sound effect. Apparently, I’m hoping the dude will grant me mercy for my sick charades skills.
Nick’s eyes also snap open wide, and he aggressively shakes his head. “No, Oliver, oh my god! No one's going to hurt you! I mean, Matt would literally kill me if I let anything happen to you, but that’s not what WRB does,” he quickly assures.
“Right.”
“Matt was assigned to just deter you and keep an eye on you,” he clarifies. “We are perpetually short-staffed, so it’s not easy to have someone trailing every person who starts digging around.”
Now that I know I’m safe again, my mind goes into another tangent. One that has me looking like a desperately horny person at best and a sexual harasser at worst.
“Matt spent all this time with me, so I would stop questioning what I saw,” I whisper to myself. Dread takes over so quickly. I want everyone to leave, so I can wrap myself in a blanket and bury myself on the couch.
“No,” Nick shakes his head. “He just…It wasn’t just—”
“Tell me more about your work. You had a speech prepared, right?” I interrupt. He shouldn’t have to deal with my patheticness.
What could he say, anyway? It makes complete sense. Of course, Matt didn't want me. And every time we did anything more than “Matt’s work,” it was me throwing myself at him.
He just took pity on me, didn't he? I was just a job that became too clingy.
Nick continues to speak, explaining how they have specialized holding cells for werewolves. He tells me about their work, concealing evidence, hunting down guilty werewolves, tracking humans who use the awareness of their existence for profit, or worse, to hurt them.
I understand it all. Why they need to do this. How important it is to maintain their secret. Humans are afraid of everything they can't control, and we’re not known to make the best decisions when afraid. This is the only way they can survive.
Their dedication to their work makes sense, even when it isn’t all kosher.
Matt was dedicated, too, in making sure I didn't go around blabbering with my big mouth. He definitely found one way to shut it.
Suddenly, I remember something.
“Dalton was talking about bodies. What was that about?” I ask, since he’s clearly not the drugged-up human I had assumed.
Nick sighs like he really doesn’t want to talk about it. “Matt found two human bodies in Dalton’s apartment after you saw him flee. We recovered more bodies across the city in similar conditions.”
“Shit,” I whisper.
“Shit is right. Now that we’ve caught Dalton, I’m hoping we’ll get some answers.”
“Aurelia, his daughter, who managed the store. She’s the kingpin. That’s what he said.”
“That’s helpful. Let’s hope he is cooperative with information. But you don’t have to worry, alright? Matt’s around, and you’re safe at work with Emily and Laura there. Besides, they won’t dare to show their faces around here again,” he nods, determined.
“I don’t want to be Matt’s assignment anymore,” I hesitantly tell him. “I’m sure I’ll be alright,” I nod, certain. Kinda.
Nick laughs. “Oh, Oliver, you were never Matt’s assignment. You’ll be okay.” He pats my head like I’m a five-year-old and gets up to leave. He promises someone from the Bureau will be here to fix all the damage and give me more information.
At some point, my body starts drooping. I slump back on the couch. My mind comes up with memories of Matt holding himself back. Keeping me at bay, or at least trying.
There’s a flurry of footsteps in my apartment. I realize my front door looks like it’s been ripped off its hinges.
Someone sits beside me. I turn my head and see a petite, Indian woman who oozes authority. She makes me want to sit up straighter. I would if I had the energy.
“I’m Meena Srivastav, LA head of WRB. I hear Nick explained a few things already?”
“Oliver,” I nod.
She nods back. “I know.”
“Oh, right. I was an assignment.”
She shakes her head. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive.”
She gives me a small smile. “No one will hurt you anymore. We’ll make sure of it.”
I nod. I mean, I’m not really planning on snooping anymore, so I should be safe.
“Oliver, we have been researching you. We know where you work, where you live, where your family lives,” she says pointedly.
There goes the promise of safety. But honestly, I get it. Trusting that people are nice only works in theory. Maintaining a secret this big can’t be entirely dependent on goodness of hearts.
“I understand.”
“We have to protect our species.”
I nod again.
“I know you won't tell anyone. Your record is clean. You seem like a nice person. Laura vouched for you.”
“She did?” That’s a surprise.
“Yes, she speaks highly of you. So do Nick, Bree, Camila, Marcus, and Sloan.”
I tear up a little. It means a lot that they’d do that, really. “I won't tell anyone,” I reassure her.
She smiles again. “Good. I’ll send you more information on the protocol tomorrow. Today, you need to rest.”
She’s right about that.
She starts to leave, but turns to me again. “It wasn’t Matt’s job to distract you, you know?”
I look at her, confused. “But Nick said…”
“He volunteered, yes. But generally, for sightings, we only interact with the human once or twice, especially if there weren’t any traumatic events. Humans are eager to find an explanation that works and move on with their lives. Even if they don’t, it’s not easy to find proof of our secret.”
“So, Matt didn’t do a good job?” I ask, still very confused.
She laughs. “Oh, he was horrible. But he really didn’t want you to find out he’s a werewolf.”
Right, he really doesn’t want me in his life. I nod at Meena because I think she expects me to.
She must have seen something in my face because she continues, frustrated. “I’m not explaining this well.” She sits back down. “When I met my husband, I didn’t want him to know the truth either. I didn’t want him anywhere near this world.”
Understanding clicks into place.
But no, she can't be saying what she's saying. That’s way too much optimism for me right now.
She gets up to leave again, seeming pleased with herself. “We'll be in touch.”
I finally take in my apartment. Everyone has left, and my front, bedroom, and bathroom doors are all fixed.
“Your new keys.” Meena dangles the keys in her hand, then places them on the coffee table.
Wow, they’re efficient.
When I hear the door shut softly, my eyes are already closed.
I slide back down the couch until I’m lying flat and let sleep erase the last few hours of my life.