Chapter 4 #2
“Didn’t want to go out through a noisy club,” he said. “Is that a crime? I’m still allowed in the barracks, even if I don’t live there.”
Muzzle grunted. He was doing that thing Tobias’s dad used to do, keeping silent and waiting for the other person to get nervous and keep blabbing. A holdover from his stint as a cop, his dad always said.
Unluckily for both his dad and Muzzle, Tobias was really good at awkward silences. He sat back, folding his arms and barely resisting the urge to sling his dirty boots up on Muzzle’s desk. He’d done that once with his middle school principal. He got suspended, but it was worth it.
Finally Muzzle relented. “Did you see anyone?”
“What, in the barracks? No.” Tobias pretended to figure it out. “Wait, you think someone snuck in? Who the hell would risk that? All the newbies got a taste of what happens if you go somewhere off limits.”
He licked his teeth, remembering the blood he’d cleaned out of his mouth the night before. He still didn’t know what the hell that guy had done to get his throat ripped out.
Muzzle chewed the end of his cigar. His teeth were unnaturally sharp, even in human form. It had been cool the first time Tobias saw it years ago, aching and terrified after his first forced transformation, and it was still cool now.
At first Tobias thought Muzzle would deflect. Change the subject and kick him out. But apparently Muzzle was letting even the low-ranking members of the pack in on it.
“The last time we had an intruder in the barracks,” Muzzle said, “there were hunters on our tail.”
Tobias schooled his expression into shock, grateful that they assumed—just like Tobias—that it was a group. A hunter would have to be an idiot to take on a wolf’s den on their own. Or dedicated, as Alexander had put it before he tried to slice Tobias’s throat open.
“Shit,” Tobias said. “Are there any hunting packs in the area?”
“That’s what we want to find out.” Muzzle nodded at the guards, who stepped up to flank Tobias. “A few years back, I would have sent you out scouting. But we both know better than that, don’t we?”
For once, Tobias didn’t reply. He was a low-ranking pack member for a reason: he refused to be useful.
He came to the club when Muzzle summoned him, he went feral, then he left.
He didn’t do Muzzle’s dirty work unless he was out of his mind thanks to that fucking amulet Muzzle had hidden under his shirt collar.
The only reason Muzzle hadn’t killed him was that Tobias was ferocious in wolf form—good for putting on a show, or for punishing traitors.
“A shame,” Muzzle continued. “You were almost useful dealing with the last hunters.”
Tobias dug his fingernails into his jeans so hard they ripped the denim.
“Thank you,” he said lightly.
Muzzle waved him away, “Keep your ears open, Rook.”
“Always do,” Tobias said.
He got up, eyeing Muzzle’s cigar. If it wasn’t a power play thing, what were the chances that he went out for a smoke sometimes, unguarded? Muzzle seemed like the kind of guy who valued his alone time. No way would he keep those guards around him 24/7 just for a smoke break.
“Ash Pup,” Muzzle said.
Tobias turned. He was halfway to the door, the guards marching along behind him like they were people of genuine importance and not thirty-something assholes who only wore fancy suits because Muzzle brought them.
“Excuse me?”
Muzzle tapped ash into an ashtray. “The brand. You looked curious.”
Tobias made himself smile. “I know what brand it is. But thanks.”
Muzzle got that gleam in his eye that only happened when he thought that Tobias might be a wolf worth keeping.
He didn’t get it much nowadays, not after Tobias had spent so many years proving that he would rather be anywhere but in Muzzle’s squalid little pack.
It came after Tobias said something ballsy or clever or particularly pragmatic.
In another life, Tobias could have probably been a valued member of this pack.
He still could. If he lost the last vestiges of his morals and embraced the savage lifestyle the wolves held up to such a high standard.
Muzzle waved. “Until next time.”
“Waiting with bated breath,” Tobias assured him.
He closed the office door, imagining Muzzle bleeding out all over that goddamn desk.
Tobias opened the door that led out of the hallway and slammed right into Josh Waters, who bounced off him hissing and clutching his broken arm. A shiny metal ball flew out of his hand and clattered to the carpet.
“Shit,” Tobias said. He ran after it and grabbed it before it could hit the wall. “Dude! What did I say about fiddling with the explosives?”
“It’s fine,” Josh said tightly, his gaunt face scrunching up in pain. “The trigger’s in my pocket.”
He pushed his good hand into his pocket and pulled out a shiny red trigger.
“Still,” Tobias said, handing Josh’s tiny explosive back warily. “Don’t mess with them around here.”
“I won’t,” Josh said, tucking the bomb and the trigger into different pockets. His eyes were averted—he was obviously lying. As soon as that kid was stressed, he’d bring those things out again.
It reminds me I’m useful, Josh had confided in him once. That the pack has some reason for me to stick around.
Tobias did his usual once-over. Josh had no new injuries, and he wasn’t any skinnier than usual. He was wearing one of those baggy hoodies he’d been so fond of lately. He’d started wearing them after Tobias gave him an old one on a cold night.
“Sorry for the door,” Tobias said, tapping Josh’s cast gently. “You can punch me back, if you want.”
Josh laughed, still pained. “Like that would do anything.” He glanced behind them toward the curving hallway.
“It’s a long hallway,” Tobias said. “They can’t hear us.”
“Oh,” Josh said. “Good.”
He scratched his scraggly chin hair, which was still growing in. He said he was sixteen, but Tobias suspected he might be younger.
“If they catch us talking, I’ll say I started it and you were telling me to fuck off,” Tobias said. “You won’t get in trouble.”
Josh ducked his head, his worry melting into dopey gratefulness that made Tobias want to give him a noogie.
“Thanks, Tobias. I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I am in enough already,” Tobias agreed, thinking about the healing silver burn on his shoulder and Alexander pretending to sip cocoa on his couch. “What brings you to Muzzle’s office? Does he need something else blown up?”
Josh aimed another nervous look down the curving hallway. “He wants to send me on a delivery later.”
The excitement in his tone made Tobias pause. “What, alone? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“It’s nothing dangerous,” Josh said. “And anyway, I can handle myself.”
Tobias looked pointedly at his arm, still wrapped in a bulky white cast.
“I fell,” Josh insisted, averting his eyes. “That could have happened to anyone!”
Then he looked up, his expression sharpening into that keen intelligence that kept Muzzle from throwing him out. “Did you just come from his office?” Josh asked. “He’s been doing more checkups on you lately.”
“Lucky me,” Tobias deadpanned.
“Yeah,” Josh sighed. It had none of the sarcasm that Tobias was aiming for.
Tobias twisted, checking once more that the guards weren’t listening in. If he strained, he could hear the barest mutter of the two of them arguing over the best brands of coffee…or maybe sports teams. It was a long hallway.
“Josh,” Tobias said, voice lowered just in case. “You know you can do something else, right? Anything else. Hell, you can be a wolf. Just find another pack.”
Josh gave him a sullen look. “Great. Where?”
“I don’t know! Somewhere! Any pack is better than this one.” Tobias ran a hand through his shaggy hair, frustrated. “You don’t want this life. Okay? Not with him.”
Josh squirmed. He was getting better at standing up to people, which Tobias was proud of. Unfortunately, it also meant that he could tell Tobias to stick it.
“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean I won’t,” he mumbled.
“Think about the amulet,” Tobias reminded him. “He’s got your fucking leash, do you trust him with it?”
“It’s not about trust,” Josh insisted. “It’s about what I can live with.”
Tobias gritted his teeth. Sometimes this kid came out with the saddest shit he’d ever heard.
“I just want you to know you have other options,” he said.
“I know,” Josh said with the emphasis of a teenager saying whatever the fuck would get him out of this conversation. “Thanks.”
Tobias resisted the urge to flick his arm cast. He clapped him on the shoulder and headed out, only stopping to watch the small shape of Josh vanish around the dark hallway corner, one hand stuffed into his pocket to fiddle with the explosive.
He sensed Alexander before he saw him.
Even before that clean, clear scent washed over him in the alleyway next to The Alpha Club, some part of him knew that Alexander was close.
It was as innate as his heartbeat, and Tobias had to hold back a smile as he swaggered toward him.
Most of the time, magic was awful, painful bullshit.
But sometimes you got something worthwhile.
“Good news and bad news,” he said in front of a scowling Alexander. “Which do you want first?”
“What? Both.”
Tobias snickered, some of the tension from the club leaving him as he took in Alexander’s irritation.
“Impatient,” he said. He opened his mouth genuinely intending to fill Alexander in, then he paused.
He tweaked Alexander’s work shirt, which was impeccably smooth as always.
“Do you iron your shirts? I always wanted to ask.”
Alexander’s silence was answer enough.
Tobias laughed. “Dude, these are, like…one-ply. I’m surprised they don’t catch fire when you iron them.”
“If they were that flammable, they’d be useless in a deep-frying scenario,” Alexander said.
His tone was dry, but less aggressive than usual.
Almost like they had gone back to the sweet back-and-forth they’d been developing when Alexander was just a shift worker who smelled suspiciously nice and Tobias was Hot Scar Guy.
Or Hot Hoodie Guy, as Donna had called him.
Alexander cleared his throat and straightened. “What happened?”
Tobias’s spine twinged. He ignored it. He had all kinds of pains day-to-day, let alone the day after he transformed.
“Bad news,” he said. “They know someone was here.”
Alexander swore. “Josh?”
“He didn’t say anything.” Another bolt of pain up his spine. This one traveled into his stomach, swirling uncomfortably before dissipating. As far as pain went, it wasn’t even enough to make Tobias wince.
“And the good news,” Alexander prompted.
Tobias nodded. His head was fuzzy, but that was pretty normal nowadays. Unless he was actively transforming, it was hard to tell what symptoms were worrying and what was something to brush off.
“So,” he started. “Muzzle smokes.”
A burst of agony cut him off. He fell to his knees—no doubling over, no stumble. This was powerful enough to knock a werewolf off his feet, landing on his knees hard enough to crack the asphalt.
His vision grayed out.
When it came back, Alexander was standing over him, his mouth moving fast, his hand near his ankle.
Getting a knife, Tobias’s bleary mind supplied.
Alexander’s voice finally came back into focus. “What’s happening? Tobias! Is it your scars or the wolf?”
“Wolf,” Tobias slurred. His teeth were suddenly bigger than they had been a few seconds ago.
Tobias grabbed Alexander’s shirt, fisting the ironed fabric.
“Fucker activated the amulet,” he managed. “I’m transforming.”