Chapter 9 Max
MAX
Speeding back into the city, knuckles white from the sheer force of his grip on the steering wheel, Max felt like he was going out of his mind.
How could Harland be such an evil asshole?
Max felt betrayed and horrified, and not just by Harland. His own wolf, the thing inside of him that he’d never fully understood or managed to make sense of, was being an absolute little bitch.
It was happy.
If it had a tail, it would be wagging. As far as Max’s wolf was concerned, Warren being lured into their clutches and becoming trapped by some kind of awful addiction to their fucking sperm was a good thing.
Max had never hated himself more.
Pushing down on the accelerator, zooming down the empty road, Max felt like the snow-capped trees of the woods surrounding him were taunting him.
His wolf wanted to stop the truck and run into the thicket and play.
“Shut up!” Max slammed his fist down on his chest, veering off the road and almost hitting the ditch before he hastily turned the wheel. He hit a patch of ice and went sliding, his truck swerving into the other lane and almost tipping over in his haste to get back to his side of the road.
Max forced himself to take a calming breath.
He would be fine if there was an accident, but if he killed or injured some random person, he would never be able to forgive himself.
And he’d have to live with the guilt, because he and Harland and some random alpha he didn’t even know the name of had a human they needed to keep alive with their come.
“See what you did,” Max growled, looking down at his chest with a glare.
His wolf stilled, sinking back to the quiet place where it stayed when things got too confusing. Max didn’t always manage to keep it there – sometimes it broke free like a dog jumping a fence – but when he was this focused, it didn’t stand a chance.
“And stay there,” Max grumbled.
Since meeting Harland, Max had worked on understanding his wolf and letting it live closer to the surface. He didn’t want to be a failure of a werewolf – always swallowing down his instincts and pretending that he was human – but he didn’t want instincts like this.
He didn’t want to be like the werewolves from history who stole humans and did terrible things to them.
Thinking about the future made an agitated lump form in Max’s chest.
What if Warren didn’t believe that he hadn’t known what was going to happen to him? Max swallowed, the thought making his gut churn. He didn’t know if he’d believe him if he were in Warren’s place.
The sound of police sirens and lights flashing in his rearview mirror broke Max out of his anxious spiraling. He looked down and realized that he was still going a good twenty miles over the speed limit, and coupled with his erratic steering earlier, it was no wonder he was being pulled over.
Slowing down, he put on his blinker and pulled to the side of the road.
He really hoped he was just being pulled over for speeding, and not for swerving into the other lane.
A middle-aged policewoman took her time climbing out of her cruiser, zipping up her coat and talking into her radio as she made her way up to Max’s truck.
Max rolled down his window and got his driver’s license, insurance, and registration ready as he waited for her to approach. His truck was an older model designed specifically for werewolves, and when the policewoman reached him, she had to get up on her tiptoes to see through his window.
“Sorry, officer,” Max said, looking down at her. He handed over his documents. “I was distracted and didn’t notice how fast I was going.”
The policewoman looked at him with narrow eyes. She had short blonde hair, styled in a pixie cut, and a sturdy frame held in a wide-legged stance. She accepted his driver’s license and studied it, not saying anything.
“Are you under the influence, Mr. Roberts?”
“No, just pissed off at my boyfriend.”
The policewoman blinked, the answer seeming to catch her off guard.
“Yeah?”
“He’s such an asshole!” Max bit out. “He doesn’t tell me things. He’s just all, I know best because I’m older and more experienced than you, and I know what-”
“That sounds rough,” the policewoman interrupted him.
“But maybe stay off the road until you’ve calmed down.
I’m going to write you a ticket for speeding and reckless driving.
If you take a safe driving course, you can get the points taken off your record.
” She wrote him the ticket and handed it to him, brusque and completely uninterested in continuing the interaction. “Have a nice day.”
“You too,” Max said, watching her scurry back to her cruiser.
Whatever she’d expected, it obviously wasn’t a werewolf having a meltdown about his boyfriend.
Staying on the side of the road, Max watched as the officer climbed behind the wheel of her cruiser and drove away.
He glanced at the ticket and threw it onto the seat next to him. More points on his license. That was just great. Max had already done the safe driving course a few months ago, so he wasn’t actually eligible for that. If he got another strike after this, he’d lose his license.
“Well, today is going fantastic,” he muttered to himself.
Pulling back onto the road, Max continued his drive into the city.
He kept to the speed limit until he reached the city limits, and then followed the flow of traffic until he reached the firehouse.
While he wasn’t scheduled to work for another nine hours – at which point he’d have a twenty-four-hour shift – no one would mind if he came early.
He’d work out, or something. Maybe play cards with the guys, or watch TV. Anything to take his mind off what a clusterfuck Harland had gotten him into.
“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Jackson, one of his more annoying coworkers, asked as soon as he walked into the upstairs day room. The rest of the guys, most of them hanging out by the TV, and a few of them working out, all paused and looked at him.
“Nobody!” Max insisted, taking off his coat.
“And did you eat the cereal that this Nobody person pissed in?” Jackson asked, grabbing a nectarine from the fruit bowl and tossing it at him.
Max caught the fruit one-handed and stared at Jackson in befuddlement.
“What?”
“Dude, you’re clearly upset. Have a peach and come tell your bro all about it.”
Max rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is a nectarine, not a peach, and you are not my bro, because we are not nineteen-year-old frat dudes.”
“Nah, you’re my bro,” Jackson said. “And are you sure? These have that big-ass seed-like thing in them.”
“Nectarines have those, too.”
“I don’t know-”
“Shut up about the fucking peaches,” Blake, seated across from Jackson and eating cereal, interrupted. “Nobody fucking cares.”
“You’re here early,” David commented, sitting up from the bench press and wiping his brow with a towel. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I had a little fight with my boyfriend, that’s all.”
“But you never fight with your boyfriend,” Jackson exclaimed, taking a nectarine and biting into it. Juice dripped down his chin and he hastily wiped it away with the back of his hand. “What did he do? Cheat on you?”
Max hung his coat in the closet. “No, it’s werewolf bullshit. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but a look from Blake cut him off.
“What are we watching?” Max asked, nodding toward the TV. The image was frozen, the show paused until the room quieted down.
“My stories.” Elvira piped up from the chair in the corner of the room. She lifted the remote and pointed it at the TV. “Brandon has just found out that his evil twin switched his dog out with a robot.”
Max blinked, nodding to himself. That sounded suitably distracting.
“Everyone ready?” Elvira asked.
The assembled TV-watchers nodded, and the show resumed.
Max didn’t usually watch TV when he was in the day room – he preferred working out, playing cards, or reading – but at the moment all he wanted was to not think for a bit.
It didn’t really work. He kept thinking about what Warren was going to say when he found out what they’d done to him. The mental image of Warren staring at him with betrayal and horror had Max feeling like he was going to throw up.
“I’m going to go for a run.” He got up, waving away the concerned looks sent his way, and jogged down to the locker room on the first floor.
Changing into his running gear – consisting of running shoes, cold-weather compression tights, and a long-sleeved compression shirt – he put on his headphones, grabbed his phone, and made his way outside.
There was a park a few blocks away with a good trail. About two miles long, with a separate lane for runners, it was Max’s favorite place to run outside of actual, real-life nature.
Turning on his eighties playlist, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill and jogging in place, Max finally set off toward the park.
Almost immediately, he felt better. Running had always been Max’s release. His mind went quiet, tuned to the music and the beat of his steps on the pavement, and for a little while he didn’t have to think.
Doing a lap of the park, Max kept his breathing smooth and even, timing it to the rhythm of his feet. He kept his eyes ahead, ignoring the occasional stares and appreciative looks sent his way.
He was about at the halfway point of his run when a familiar scent brought his wolf to the surface and overwhelmed him with the sudden need to chase.
It was the other alpha – the interloper who Harland said was meant to be a part of their thing with Warren.
Max’s wolf didn’t agree with that at all. Sure, the guy smelled kind of nice, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share a boyfriend with him.