Chapter 3 Stockholm Syndrome in Reverse #2
Cade shakes his head and claps the Alpha on the back, a good-natured grin spreading across his face as he concedes defeat. I try to ignore my former crush there in the throng of people, taking a napkin and wiping at the shifter's mouth. He’s not ditching Cade after this loss.
Cierra spots me as she uses her large forearm to wipe her mouth. She doesn't let on that anything is amiss, but she inclines her head, motioning me towards the back.
I push through the heavy wooden door of the tavern's back office. Adelaide's on the phone and I feel vaguely like a kid summoned to the principal's office—if the principal drank like a sailor and had ale-covered papers strewn across their desk.
As Adelaide hangs up, she greets me with a proud grin. "There you are, hero. Who would have guessed? When you lost that fight earlier I thought you were the sorriest excuse for a wolf I'd ever seen."
"Gee, thanks."
"But then you went and caught a trespasser. Even those on patrol duty were caught up after the battle and distracted. Not you."
I shift uncomfortably, brushing off the unexpected compliment. "It's really nothing."
Adelaide speaks over me. "We can't afford to get complacent, even when there are no obvious threats at our door. Now that we let more people into our territory we have to stay sharp."
"Don't tell me you regret opening our doors to anyone who buys tickets."
"Hell no," she declares gruffly. "The entertainment and cash are well worth it. But it’s still our responsibility to protect our territory and manage the influx of visitors so we can continue to enjoy the violence and money."
"And safety," I remind her.
She nods importantly. "Right, right. Keeping everyone safe. That's what matters... then the money and violence."
"Yeah. Guess you're right."
Adelaide leans forward, a grin spreading across her face. "You did us all proud today. And after the fight too, so it wasn't even for glory."
I drop into the battered chair opposite Adelaide’s, still feeling like the praise is undeserved. "Look, about the prisoner. He's not what you think."
"Wynn—"
"His name's Marlow, and I don't think he means any harm,” I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk. “Maybe we’re all keyed up after the fights tonight but that doesn’t mean everything is a threat. I vouch for him."
Her grin evaporates. "Yes, perfectly innocent people skulk about in the dark all the time.”
"Yeah, that wasn't the best move," I concede, running a hand through my hair. “He showed some poor judgement. But he explained everything and I don't believe he's doing anything nefarious. Nothing the pack needs to worry about.”
The office feels smaller suddenly as Adelaide studies me. The distant sounds of celebration from the tavern filter through the thick door—laughter, clinking glasses, someone howling victoriously.
“Are you sure you didn’t make this decision too hastily?” she asks in a way that causes me to suspect she’s thinking about my terrible track record with gorgeous liars.
“You’re the one who sent me to question him. I’m just telling you what I think.” She’s the Alpha and it’s her job to be suspicious and protective of her territory. I’m going with my gut.
She crosses her arms. "You just met him. How do you know you can trust his story?"
"It’s the sense I got from talking to him,” I reply. “I might not have all the details, but I don’t think we’re going to get them while he’s detained in our medieval dungeon. From what I can tell, Marlow's not a bad guy.”
The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence that follows, marking the seconds as Adelaide considers my words.
I wait for her reply. And wait. She levels me with a heavy, ball-shriveling glare, the kind that makes a primal part of me consider rolling over and begging for mercy.
I stare back even though her glare is just as harsh as staring at the sun.
Maybe it’s silly to go from tackling a trespasser to the ground to vouching for him a few hours later.
Maybe I should be more cautious. But I’m not a naughty kid sent to the principal’s office.
I’m a grown-ass man and a werewolf, damn it.
I’m entitled to my opinion. Somehow, I know I’m right about this one. I’m right—
Adelaide finally lets out a long sigh, her focus shifting to the computer screen in front of her. Has she forgotten me? Am I being dismissed? She taps briskly on the keyboard and gestures for me to join her on the other side of the desk.
“Supernatural cities share information,” she explains. “Including reports about missing people and criminals. I did my own investigating while you questioned the prisoner. Look at this.”
I step around the desk, chest tightening with dread as I get the feeling the other shoe is about to drop—and I'm right. The screen reveals a mugshot.
“Our prisoner is Marlow Maddox,” she says. “A wanted fugitive from Brighton.”
“No, it can’t be…” I murmur, but with the mugshot and the charges, it's clear.
Marlow’s picture stares back at me on the screen, unmistakable even in grainy grayscale, wearing that same cocky smirk I’d seen behind the cell bars. The charges run down the side, but I keep skipping over them, unable to bear reading the list as my eyes keep going back to his face.
When I finally make myself focus on the charges, I wish I hadn’t. One word keep jumping out at me. Murder.
“Maddox isn’t just a petty criminal. He’s a killer, Wynn.”
Dammit. I've been played. So much for my instincts. What kind of sorry wolf always follows the wrong trails? I let myself get conned by a demon with a sob story and a rap sheet as long as my arm.
The laughter in his eyes and the devil-may-care attitude drew me in.
He was evasive and coy, sure, but I didn't really think he was capable of… of exactly the crimes listed under his mugshot. If I’d given in to his pleas and let him slip away like I’d been tempted to…
I almost let a murderer escape. He’d be hard to track down in the mountains beyond our territory.
I almost gave him the chance to escape justice.
"This isn't a game, Wynn." Adelaide's somber voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Trust can be a dangerous weapon when wielded carelessly."
“Adelaide, I’m sorry—”
She holds up a hand. “So am I. I was about to make you my second in command. But now? I'm doubting your judgment. You can't afford to be naive, Wynn."
Her words twist in my gut like a knife. Oh my god. I’m a colossal idiot. Tricked by a pretty face. This isn’t even the first time. It’s my life story.
"What's going to happen now?" I ask quietly, ignoring the way my voice cracks at the end.
Adelaide doesn’t answer right away. She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable save for the faint furrow of her brow. When she finally speaks, her tone has softened, not much, but enough to count as friendlier coming from her.
"Maybe you should take a break from pack life. Clear your head. Focus on figuring out what you really want."
Not a bad idea. After losing the fight to a shifter from another pack and then catching and almost freeing a wanted fugitive, the pack probably won't be the warmest place for me over the next few days.
"We have everything under control here," she says. "I've summoned the proper authorities. They're already on their way to apprehend Maddox."
Good. Marlow will get exactly what he deserves. The authorities won’t fall for his sob story or his pretty face like I did.
"Don't forget what I said, Wynn," Adelaide tells me. "Trust wisely."
Not the first time I've heard that advice. I swear that this time I'll take it to heart. I won't let Marlow Maddox or anyone like him fool me again.