Chapter 30
Josh
Was this really fucking happening right now?
I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I was once again being dragged away from Elijah not five minutes after arriving in the only place I’d ever considered home.
Another shove nearly sent me sprawling, and I had to quell the impulse to take out all three of the weres escorting me.
Elijah’s warning rang clear in my mind as I regained my footing and remained in line.
I glanced at the Klamath Alpha out of the corner of my eye.
Conrad Mallin stood slightly shorter than me, though his shoulders were significantly wider.
I’d known there was a rift between him and Elijah, but it seemed to go much deeper than my original assumption that it had to do with him recognizing Elijah as a rival.
And me.
How was it even possible that I was an Alpha?
That was supposed to be genetic. I’d never heard of a bitten-were possessing any enhanced genetics once they’d turned.
If anything, I should have been a lone wolf.
I’d been virtually on my own my entire life.
That had changed upon meeting Elijah, and Tommy, and Mack.
The truth was a hard pill to swallow as I crossed the boundary between town and Pack territory.
I may have been alone, but I never wanted to be.
Just like I never wanted to kill werewolves.
Sooner than I would have liked, the sprawling masterpiece of the mid-century modern house that constituted the Klamath Pack’s base of operations came into view.
The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to appreciate the truly impressive architecture.
It didn’t look like I’d get to this time either.
The floor-to-ceiling windows gleamed brightly in the early afternoon light as we marched around the building to what appeared to be an extensive garage.
Land skimmers and a handful of other compact vehicles lined the wall.
We moved past all of them towards a discreet side door that couldn’t possibly lead to the house.
Darkness closed around me, and I was instantly transported to the hallway that led to the Pit of Despair. My heart thudded in my chest as panic sank its claws in. The urge to fight my captors and escape from being shoved back into that hellhole warred with reason.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the feeling of being isolated threatened to overtake everything else.
With single-minded focus, I zeroed in on the sounds of other people breathing, the mix of smells, the feel of the air brushing against my skin.
I forced my eyes back open, lest I trip on the stairs, and a faint light creeping in from a subterranean window caught my attention.
Not so alone. There are still ways out.
I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as we landed in a basement set up like an interrogation room. There was even a chair centered in the cleared space. I allowed my escort of lycans to escort me deeper into the room without argument.
Don’t say anything.
I’d honor Elijah’s warning even if I didn’t understand why it was so important.
Keeping my mouth shut would be easy. I’d been trained for interrogations and even extensive torture, not to mention that silence could also glean more information about an adversary than talking ever could.
Already I knew two very important things: although this pack had undoubtedly seen the live broadcast of my trial, none of them took the threat I posed seriously, and Conrad was unequivocally afraid for his position as Alpha.
I bit my tongue as they tossed me toward the center of the room.
“Sit down,” Mallin ordered.
I gave the wooden chair a scornful glance and opted to stand.
His jaw tensed, but he didn’t push the issue. A pair of his grunts stepped forward to make me. “Leave him.” His words stilled them in their tracks. They glanced at each other and took a step back. Mallin eyed me for a long moment as if debating where in his interrogation he wanted to start.
Personally, I would have preferred we get down to the thick of it instead of playing this mockery of a cat-and-mouse game.
That I had gone from the government’s most secure, undocumented prison with a constant escort of at least half a dozen highly trained combat operatives to a handful of civilian lycans was downright insulting.
After another minute of silence that I suspected was intended to unnerve me, Mallin finally spoke.
“Before your very public hearing in front of the entire Klamath pack, there are a few questions I would like to ask you. Bear in mind that your answers may have a marked impact on the result of tomorrow’s gathering. ”
I stared back at him and waited.
A muscle in his cheek twitched, but he carried on as if I’d given the desired response. “Why is Elijah Bennett protecting you?”
I schooled my face to remain expressionless.
“Did you two strike up some kind of deal?”
I met the second question with the same flat silence.
“Was he involved in your attack on this pack? What kind of aid did he give you? Plans? Layouts? Inside details about pack members?” With each added question, Mallin skirted closer to being fully unhinged.
The weres at his back shuffled their feet, but kept their peace, as did I.
“Answer my questions!” Fury radiated off Conrad Mallin. “How long have you really known Elijah? Did he hire you to avenge his father?”
It took an active force of will not to react. Elijah didn’t talk about his father anymore than I talked about mine. Given the vein of Mallin’s questions, I suspected it was for similar reasons. Had Conrad Mallin done something to Elijah’s father?
The side of Mallin’s fist collided with the stone wall in a terrible crack. Everyone else jumped while I maintained stoic silence. “Are you two even married, or was that just a stunt to subvert pack order?”
Suddenly, the truth of Elijah’s precarious position within the pack became abundantly clear.
Mallin didn’t give two shits what I’d done here or anywhere else.
I was a means to an end. All he cared about was being rid of Elijah once and for all.
It was a miracle he hadn’t already banished or executed him.
My resolve to follow Elijah’s unusual advice to do nothing strengthened. I wouldn’t give this man, who was obviously losing his grip, any more reasons to target Elijah. In a twist of fate I never could have anticipated, I would be the one used against Elijah.
Mallin’s eyes narrowed to slits in the dimly lit room. The yellow that glinted off them made him appear both sinister and even more unhinged. “Help our guest find his tongue and don’t stop until he confesses everything.”
Now would have been an excellent time to remind him that Lycan Detectives couldn’t lie. Even under duress. However, I strongly suspected the effort would be in vain.
The three lycans that followed us down here moved forward.
I eyed each one, assessing their threat value.
Only one bore any visible scars, likely making them the most prone to violence of the bunch.
The largest was most likely meant to provide an intimidation factor that really only highlighted how outdated the Klamath Alpha’s thinking was.
While the last had an odd glow in her eyes that suggested she enjoyed giving pain and had the cunning to get away with it.
I relaxed my stance, keeping my arms loose at my sides, and waited for them to approach.
Exhaustion tugged at my body, but it wasn’t as if I had any intention of actually fighting this pretentious group of thugs.
Conrad Mallin may have watched the trial, but he’d clearly missed some of the finer points, namely that I was not a man to be underestimated.
The smallest of the three surged forward, and I spun out of the way in a familiar avoidance tactic. With a growl, they turned to try again. I easily side-stepped the intended assault, and they ran into the one with the scars.
“Watch it!”
“Get off me.”
I waited patiently as they disentangled themselves.
In a surprising move, they came at me together.
I ducked and ended up standing next to the largest one, who was surprisingly quick on their feet.
Without missing a beat, they swung. I swiftly leaned back to prevent them from knocking me into the wall and probably unconscious.
By now, the other two had recovered and were racing toward my compromised position.
I swiveled in place, coming face to face with the small one with cruelty in her eyes, then ducked at the last possible second.
The fist of the scarred one soared over my head to land with a sickening crunch into the largest one.
He stumbled backward, clutching his chest and wheezing for air.
The one who delivered the punch gave a savage growl and lunged for me again.
I danced back and narrowly avoided a hit to the face for my efforts.
“Watch his face!” Mallin called out.
I bit back a sharp retort that he “come over here and fight me himself”. If Elijah hadn’t been so insistent that I remain silent, I might have. As it was, the effort of not laying out all three of these idiots was proving difficult enough without adding my temptation to clock Mallin on principle.
A shift of air behind me was all the warning I needed to dance aside. The largest one regained their bearings and stumbled forward, right into the cruel one. They hit the ground in a stream of curses, and I leapt onto the chair. The scarred one glared at me, then clenched their fist and advanced.
“Enough.”
The scarred one vibrated with rage. Bruises from his companions’ efforts to hit me decorated his body, as they did the other two, still struggling to rediscover their footing.
I cocked my head to the side and defiantly met Mallin’s gaze.
Mallin’s lip curled back in a snarl. “Let him stew for a while. We still have twenty-four hours to get him to confess.”