Chapter Six
Mason
While Hex waits to hear back from Cipher, we start cleaning up Kory's cabin.
Hex doesn't want our mate coming home to this nightmare.
I also think he's using it for a distraction, which is a more constructive way to handle the stress than going on a rampage, which is what my wolf wants to do.
Now that the mate bond has fully awakened, my beast has strong opinions and feelings about everything.
"I told Kory he needed wards around the house, but he refused. He said he didn't see the need for them out here in the middle of nowhere," Hex says, breaking the silence. "I should have set a few anyway, but I wanted to respect his wishes."
"You did the right thing. If you set them after he'd already said no, it would have violated his trust."
"Maybe. But he might be here now for me to grovel to if I had."
My wolf urges me to comfort our mate. After so much time apart, I'm not sure how welcome it will be, but I step up beside Hex and put my arm around him, giving him space to move away if he chooses.
I'm surprised when he turns toward me so I can wrap him up in a hug.
We stand quietly for several minutes, my wolf feeling somewhat settled by our mate accepting the gesture of support.
"I should call Ghost and get clearance to contact the Coven. We could use the magic boost," Hex says, stepping out of my arms.
My wolf isn't happy about it, but he'll just have to deal. We don't have time to play house right now.
"Let's wait and see what we find in Cipher's notes.
" I'm not ready to face my family or the Coven yet.
The longer we can keep from involving them, the better.
Plus, I'm not sure Ghost is going to agree to it anyway.
There are certain processes you're supposed to go through to become the mate of a member of Nefarious.
I bypassed all of it when I made Hex my mate.
You'd think I'd get a pass since it was an emergency, but Ghost has been bitter about it because he feels it undermined his authority as the leader.
Although, now that I think about it, I'm not dead in an unmarked grave somewhere, so maybe getting to live was the pass.
Regardless, I'd rather Hex and I handle this and not complicate it further with club, family, or Coven politics.
That shitshow is coming soon enough. I want to find Kory and complete our bond before I have to confront the consequences of my past decisions.
I'm saved from having to think of more reasons we don't need to call anyone else by Hex's phone chiming.
"It's Cipher," he confirms as he starts scrolling.
"Have a seat and take your time reading through it. I'll keep cleaning," I say, pointing to an armchair that managed to make it through the chaos unscathed.
Once Hex is situated and engrossed in his work, I search the kitchen for a broom and dustpan.
With tools in hand, I return to the living room and start sweeping the dirt and broken glass into a pile, my mind wandering.
I am the pack enforcer and security person.
I'm normally the one making plans and on top of things when the shit hits the fan.
But in the pack, there is a structure. I know the expectations.
I know the type of enemies we're likely to face.
And I'm surrounded by family that has my back.
Here with Hex, I feel adrift. There is no chain of command, so-to-speak.
There's no suspect or mission parameters.
I don't have a directive from the Coven.
I'm here on my own without any safety nets, or the security of familiar routines.
Facing being on my own without my pack behind me is a humbling experience.
Humans always depict shifters in their stories as larger-than-life badasses – and make no mistake, we can be – but most humans don't know shifters are real, much less that we have flaws, just like them. Part of us is still human, after all.
After sweeping up the larger piles and disposing of them, I shove the couch back to make sure nothing slid under it.
A small vial rolls toward me as I sweep up a few stray pieces of glass.
Crouching down, I pick it up and look it over.
It's empty, and I don't pick up any scent from it.
It's the complete lack of scent that raises a red flag.
Almost everything has some kind of odor, even inanimate objects smell like the material they're made from.
"What do you make of this?" I ask Hex as I stand up.
He sets his phone down on the chair arm and holds out his hand.
"There's residual magic, but it's faded. I can't tell what it was meant to do." Hex turns the vial this way and that, studying it. When he uncorks it, his nose wrinkles. "I may not be able to read the magic, but I know that smell."
"I didn't smell anything."
"You wouldn't. You're a shifter. This is a spell brewed to hold a shifter in their beast form. Harmless to other beings who don't share their body with an animal essence. It's unscented to a shifter nose so they won't know what's coming." Hex flips over the cork and looks at the bottom.
I walk around the chair to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder. An 'E' is stamped onto it. It means nothing to me, but I commit it to memory in case I need to reference it later.
"Enigma," Hex mutters softly.
"Tell me what you know," I say, gently squeezing his shoulder before walking back around to face him.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. When he looks up, I know it's not going to be good.