ALEX #4
"In three weeks we’ll be playing on your campus again, and I want you there, Alex."
"Oh, so that’s why you went to see the provost?"
He nods. "Yes, the seventieth anniversary of the college."
"Three weeks? Maybe on a Saturday?"
"Yes."
I think for a moment, running through my schedule, and my therapy sessions often fall on Saturdays or Fridays, and I happen to have one booked that weekend, which means I’ll feel awful for the rest of the day.
"I’m not sure whether I’ll have therapy that day, since I go to desensitization sessions once a week for my allergies."
Bay tilts his head slightly. "Therapy for allergies? I’m glad you’re taking care of that, I hope it brings you relief."
I hesitate about whether to lie, but finally decide to do it.
"It brings some relief, but I have a long way ahead of me. It’s an experimental treatment developed by Blue Lowen himself."
Bay lifts his brows.
"Blue Lowen?" He sounds genuinely interested. When I nod, he adds, "Do you remember Gabriel, my cousin? Gabriel was part of a student eco-organization, you know, those campus activists, and after the last semester ended, he took part in the attack on one of Malden Pharmaceuticals’ labs."
"Really? That’s messed-up!"
"Yeah. They set it on fire, but it turned out there were cleaning staff inside, and some of them were injured. He got into legal trouble. My brother, Winter, had to intervene with his boss, Jacob Lowen, to convince Blue to have some of the charges against Gabe withdrawn and for Blue’s attorneys to agree to a settlement. "
My mouth falls open in surprise.
"Seriously? Little Gabriel… a criminal?"
Bay has an amused twist on his face.
"He’s not that little anymore, he’s twenty-one, but you won’t believe what Blue suggested for part of his sentence."
"What was it?"
It feels strange to talk about Blue without revealing that he’s my uncle, because in my head over the last four years that knowledge settled so deeply it became natural, I already think of myself as a member of the Lowen family.
"Well, Blue’s lawyers suggested he take part in a so-called Second Chance program, which offers an opportunity to first time offenders. His contract will be put up for sale in two weeks during the open fair for marriage contracts, that’s supposed to be his punishment: entering a marriage."
"What? I don’t understand a thing!" I open my mouth.
Bay glances briefly at my lips and then exhales softly, releasing a thin trail of vapor.
"The Second Chance program is a government-supported initiative. It offers unconventional options for offender rehabilitation, they believe family life, starting a family, can have a positive influence on young offenders, and instead of throwing them into prisons where they’ll be surrounded by hardened criminals and pick up the wrong habits, they’re given a kind of chance at a life that will be productive for the state, offering stability to that person, a normal life, and potentially raising children, even if it’s with a monitor on the ankle,"
"I can’t wrap my head around it, what would the divorce rate even look like?
Even a one-time criminal incident can indicate someone is unstable and might need psychological help, some underlying issues.
How is it a good idea to shove these people into marriages?
And who would risk buying a contract belonging to someone with a criminal record? "
Bay seems unmoved by my outrage.
His face is completely calm when he answers,
"And yet such people exist. Of course the participants selected for this are thoroughly screened, it’s not just any offender, they go through mandatory therapy, it comes with it. And you also have to remember, these are only temporary contracts, usually short-term, which increases—"
"There will definitely be fetishists among them, people who get turned on by the idea of being in a relationship with a criminal," I cut in, huffing with indignation.
Bay lets out a quiet laugh, but it has no real cheer, it feels almost practiced, his dark green eyes still fixed on my face, with those short moments in which I notice them drop to my mouth but then lift again to meet my gaze.
"Well, should we be judging people’s choices? There are omegas who get excited by the idea of danger, the risk of sex with a potentially dangerous man."
He pauses briefly. And there is a subtle emphasis on the last words in his voice.
I blink, because I suddenly realize what he might be hinting at. Fucking with strangers in dark park thickets? Well, maybe I shouldn’t judge others while being like that myself?
"Some people want to experience a relationship with a ‘bad boy’, especially for a short time. Maybe they imagine the sex will be thrilling? And Second Chance runs a fairly solid background check on candidates who want to buy such a contract."
He says it with a calm conviction and I swallow. Well, Bay surely matured in his opinions and does not shy from expressing them, which is in a way sexy. He’s not a boy anymore whom I could convince to my point of view just by fluttering my lashes.
"So… Gabriel will be participating in this. Are you okay with that?"
"Well, this is all voluntary. He can decline it and pick a normal path of how these things go, do a few years in a state prison. Nobody is holding a knife to his throat," he shrugs and looks away, letting out a thin stream of smoke.
"When will it happen?"
"The marriage contract fair will take place—"
Bay stops.
His phone emits a long beep.
At that moment Malik, who was checking something on his phone while discussing the state elections with one of the band members, speaks.
"Wow! I just got a wild alert. Listen, apparently there was a bombing at one of the matchmaking agencies called Fate’s Choice. Half the floor was blown out, it was an assassination attempt aimed at Blue Lowen."
I shoot to my feet like I’ve been struck by lightning.
"Which is like, what, the tenth attempt on his life? The guy’s like a moving target," Malik adds with laughter.
I rush toward him as he sits on the other side of the table and lean over his phone.
"Show me, show me, is he alive?"
Malik lifts his brows. "You know him?"
"Yes," I can’t say he’s my uncle for obvious reasons, so instead I add, "he’s the man who developed my anti-allergy therapy, I really hope he’s alive!" I say nervously, my lips trembling, my fingers getting sweaty.
Malik scrolls through the article.
"Looks like he is, superficial scratches, one of the security guards turned out to be a purple alpha and shielded him during the explosion."
"Oh wow," I murmur, "that’s wild."
Shock floods my system. I pull out my inhaler and take a few deep breaths.
I know my uncle isn’t a particularly well-liked person.
Many activists from the Beta Empowerment movement and other groups critical of Malden products dislike him, and I also know there have been several attacks on him before, but none of them were this powerful.
I stare at the photos of the devastated office floor in the agency.
"A bomb, that sounds serious," I mutter.
"You know Blue, like personally?" Malik asks. "I heard that man is basically a monk. Apparently, he doesn’t have reproductive organs; they were removed after some accident at a shooting range."
"It’s true, Blue is particular, a bit rough around the edges, sharp and strict, but he’s only ever shown me kindness," I say in a slightly defensive tone.
"The most important thing is that he survived," Malik says encouragingly, and the rest of the band quickly loses interest in the topic, but I notice Bay is hunched over his phone, typing something.
He lifts his head from the screen and says,
"Guys, I have to get going, something came up, thank you for the great concert, fantastic job, but I have to run."
A wave of disappointment washes over me, because we barely started eating and I hoped we could talk a little longer, but clearly that won’t happen.
As if reading my mood, Bay turns toward me.
"I hope you’ll come to our concert in three weeks, Alex, I’ll be glad to see you again," he says, and even though his face stays neutral and his tone probably sounds perfectly ordinary to the others, I can sense a certain insistence in it, almost like he’s encouraging me to really show up.
"I’ll try to make it, after therapy I usually feel awful, but I hope it won’t be that bad and I’ll manage to get there."
Bay nods.
"See you, Alex," then he stands, turns, and walks out of the restaurant.
I spend the rest of the meal talking with Malik and the other band members, who keep me company in a friendly way, but of course once Bay is gone the whole meeting loses all meaning for me, so right after dinner I say goodbye and head home in an Uber.
Meanwhile, a certain idea starts forming in my head, slowly and unhurriedly, but it begins to take shape.
◆◆◆
After coming home I obviously text Blue, because calling him on a day like this would be too much, he must be dealing with chaos over there, but I have to know if he’s okay.
I get a reply only the next day, saying everything is fine.
By then I have already gone through every possible news report online about the incident.
There’s one more interesting detail. In the shock of the moment I recognize the person who saved Blue as Bay’s own brother, Storm. He turns out to be the purple alpha bodyguard.
It’s hard for me to believe such a coincidence, but apparently he was working as a security guard at Fate’s Choice and happened to be in the right place at the right time.
But my shock doesn’t end there, the whole situation feels like something straight out of a movie, and a few hours later I see Blue’s number flash across my screen, which is surprising enough on its own.
He definitely has a lot on his plate after such a major attack and I have no idea why he would call me of all people.
Yet I answer the call and immediately hear Blue’s familiar little throat clearing and I know he’s calling with something big.