Chapter 10 Rory #3
Suddenly, Maxwell’s warm fingers wrapped around mine, pulling my hand from my pocket. I let out a rush of air in surprise, turning to look at him in shock.
Right. The boyfriend act.
But this… this felt different. He was squeezing my hand tightly, his thumb rubbing soft, reassuring circles against the back of my hand. That wasn’t pretend. That wasn’t for show. That was… comfort.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as my heart rate skyrocketed, the steady thump thump in my chest drowning out even the sound of our footsteps. With Maxwell’s hand in mine any nerves about approaching my uncle faded away.
“Rory,” Alex greeted calmly when we reached the steps, his familiar Scottish burr washing over me. His eyes flicked between us, clearly trying to take in Maxwell while maintaining his composure. All I’d mentioned in my email was that I’d be bringing my boyfriend.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Five years of silence, and now I couldn’t even manage a simple hello.
Maxwell didn’t let go of my hand as he extended his other toward my uncle. “Theodore,” he said, leaving off his surname. “Thank you for having me.”
“Aye, of course,” said Alex smoothly. “You’re most welcome.” His eyes flicked to me as an amused smile crossed his face—because Maxwell wasn’t going to be welcome here at all, and we both knew it.
“Rory,” Isla stepped forward, her voice gentle. “It’s nice to see you.”
I stared at her, momentarily stunned. Gone was the gangly teenager I remembered.
Now she stood tall and confident, her bright ginger hair framing a face that had lost all its childish roundness.
No longer were we pups chasing each other around the estate, playing hide-and-seek in the forest. I’d heard through our very limited grapevine that she was studying medicine in Edinburgh—it was possible she was also here against her will this week.
“You too,” I managed, my throat tight, then blurted out, “Where’s everyone else?” desperate to fill any silence that threatened.
Alex cleared his throat. “I said it would be best for just us to greet you. We thought we’d show you to your room, help Bernard with your things.”
Bernard? I was surprised he was still here. The head of household staff had been nearing retirement when I left five years ago, always grumbling about his aching knees while sneaking me extra biscuits when my mother wasn’t looking.
Then the rest of Alex’s words registered, and panic shot through me.
Your room.
Our room, in the house I’d lived in for so many painful years.
My feet felt rooted to the gravel as memories crashed over me like ice water.
The grand entrance hall with its sweeping staircase where Father had once dragged me down by my ear.
The formal dining room where I’d endured countless silent meals, every scrape of cutlery amplified in the strained quiet.
The library where both Ma and Dad had lectured me for hours about my responsibilities to the pack while I fidgeted, unable to focus, earning his disappointment again and again.
And my old bedroom—the one place that should have been a sanctuary. Instead, it had been where I’d spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, listening to arguments about what to do with the broken wolf cub who couldn’t sit still, couldn’t follow instructions, couldn’t be normal.
“Rory?” Maxwell’s voice cut through the fog, his hand squeezing mine. “You alright?”
I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.
“We’re staying in the house?” I blurted out.
Alex’s expression softened slightly. “I’ve put you in the east wing. Away from…” He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. Away from my parents’ rooms. Away from my old bedroom. Small mercies.
I nodded, unable to form words as I stared at the manor’s facade. The stone seemed to loom larger with each passing second, the windows watching me like judging eyes.
“We don’t have to stay here,” Maxwell murmured, so quietly only I could hear. “We can find somewhere else. In the town, perhaps.”
Yes, the town—some blessed distance.
A deep crevice split across Alex’s forehead. “I dinnae think your mother—”
“What about Primrose Cottage, Dad?” Isla interrupted. “I overheard Samuel saying the roof was fixed now.” She turned to us. “I’m not sure how clean it is, but if you’re desperate…”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Perfect.”
Alex sighed, then nodded. “Wait here.”
He disappeared inside, leaving us lingering awkwardly on the doorstep.
Was he talking to my mother, getting her approval?
My skin prickled with unease. Was anyone watching us, from one of the numerous windows?
If I still had my pack bonds, I’d be able to sense how many wolves were in the manor house.
But I didn’t. Only phantom pain where they’d once existed.
“Your home is beautiful,” said Maxwell politely to Isla, and I had to suppress laughter at his efforts.
Isla shrugged, her eyes drifting to the manor’s stone facade. “Not really my home anymore. And to be honest, I’m surprised you came back.” Her gaze returned to me, curious and probing. “Everyone is.”
I shifted my weight, and Maxwell’s iron-clad grip increased its fervor.
“The email sounded like a summons,” I said, trying to keep my voice light despite the heaviness inside me.
Isla nodded, though suspicion clouded her face. “And Kit?”
“He’s rather sensibly staying home,” I replied, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. Lucky bastard, safe in London while I faced the wolves’ den.
“And is it true you guys live together in London now?” The question held genuine curiosity—wondering how Kit and I had gone from despising each other to being roommates.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a grin. “City rental prices, right? Kit threatens to throw me out over my messiness every other month, but he loves me dearly.”
Isla smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was sorry to hear he couldn’t make it. I always liked Kit.” She glanced toward the house, lowering her voice. “Mum did too.”
The mention of Moira, her dead mother, caught me off guard. No one in the pack ever mentioned her casually. “Yeah, she was… she was kind to him.”
“To both of you,” Isla said, something unreadable flickering across her face. “She understood what it was like to feel different in the pack.”
I shifted, unsure how to respond. The Moira I vaguely remembered had been distant.
And in the years leading up to her death, she spent more and more time away from the pack.
When Kit had told me, once I’d reached London, that it had been Moira who put him into contact with someone who helped him enter the black ops shifter unit, I’d been surprised.
I’d wondered if my parents had found out, and that was the final nail in Moira’s coffin.
Before I could formulate a response to Isla, Alex reappeared, wiggling a set of keys. I exhaled with relief, grateful for the interruption. One awkward conversation successfully dodged, approximately fifty more to go.
“Voila. All sorted.” Alex tossed the keys in the air and caught them with a flourish.
Dragging me with him, Maxwell headed down the steps towards the car, clearly already eager to escape the joyous family reunion.
“Hold on,” Alex called after him. “You’ll need to leave the car here.”
Maxwell turned, frowning. “Why?”
“We like to keep all vehicles by the manor house. The estate is essentially a wilderness reserve. No cars beyond this point.”
Maxwell didn’t look impressed. “Then how exactly are we supposed to get to this cottage?”
“Golf buggy,” Alex said, gesturing toward a small green vehicle parked nearby. “We can load your bags on that.”
Five minutes later, I had Freddy hidden in my pocket, then we all crammed into the tiny buggy with the luggage precariously balanced around us.
Alex drove, with Isla squished beside him in the front, while Maxwell and I were wedged together in the back.
Maxwell’s hand was wrenched away from mine in the process, and now my palm felt cold, still tingling from the memory of his soft skin against mine.
The buggy bumped along a narrow path through the woods, jostling us with every rock and root. Maxwell’s thigh pressed against mine with each turn, something he made no effort to stop.
“There’s a dinner this evening,” Alex shouted back over his shoulder, the wind carrying his words. “Eight o’clock. Your attendance is… suggested.”
I barked a laugh. “Is it now? Who will be there?”
“Close family only.”
Great. Still over a dozen wolves. Judging eyes. Bonds I used to have, now shattered.
Isla twisted in her seat. “Look, I don’t want to be here either. We’ll suffer through together, promise.”
“We’ll come,” I said, because the whole point of this mission was to infiltrate and interrogate, not to hide away and cry about my childhood being a shitshow.
The buggy rounded a final bend, and Primrose Cottage appeared before us—a small stone building with a thatched roof and pink rosebuds climbing up its walls. It looked like something from a fairy tale, quaint and utterly disconnected from the imposing manor house.
As we climbed out and started unloading our bags, Isla smiled. “This will be nice for you. You can pretend you’re just on a normal romantic getaway!”
I let out the loudest snort.
Then promptly remembered that was maybe not an appropriate reaction.
Quickly, I turned to Maxwell, capturing his arm and beaming up at him like he was my personal sun.
“Teddy here doesn’t need a picturesque cottage to be romantic, do you, baby?”
Maxwell’s eyes bulged for a second before he pulled his face into a grimace-smile that looked physically painful. Then his hand found the small of my back, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned in close. His lips brushed my ear as he murmured, “Careful there, Terrier.”
Trust him to make my ridiculous code name sound like the hottest thing he’d ever whispered.
And when he pulled back, the transformation on his face sent a jolt through my entire body.
Gone was Theodore Maxwell, perpetually stern detective.
In his place stood a man with eyes that sparkled with joy, a devastating smile that revealed perfect teeth—and bloody hell, were those dimples?
“Darling,” he purred, his voice a warm caress I’d never heard before. “Why don’t we get settled in? After all that time in the car, I’m rather looking forward to stretching my… legs.”
My brain short-circuited. The suggestive tone, the raised eyebrow, the hand now tracing small circles on my lower back, the staring at me like I was a particularly delicious dessert…
Alex cleared his throat loudly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Right, well, we’ll leave you two to… settle in.”
“It was lovely meeting you both,” Maxwell continued, his thumb now pressing into the sensitive spot just above my hip. I bit back a squeak as he pulled me against him. “Rory’s told me so much about his family.”
I pinched his side where my relatives couldn’t see. His smile didn’t falter, but I felt his fingers dig into my back in retaliation.
Isla’s wide eyes darted between us, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’ll see you at dinner, then. It’ll be the usual over-the-top affair,” she warned me.
“We’ll be there,” Maxwell assured them, his free hand coming up to brush an imaginary strand of hair from my face.
I leaned into Maxwell’s touch before reaching up to straighten his collar, letting my fingers linger. For the act, of course.
As Alex and Isla climbed back into the buggy, Maxwell waved enthusiastically with one arm while the other remained firmly around my waist. He maintained his besotted expression until they disappeared around the bend in the path.
The moment they were out of sight, I expected him to drop his arm and jump away. Instead, he kept his grip firm, leaned down, and said low against my ear, “Your uncle was watching us like a hawk. Some of his thoughts… I had to make it convincing.”
His breath was warm against my skin, and I fought back a shiver. When he finally released me and stepped back, I forced myself to take a deep breath to refocus myself.
“Didn’t know you had it in you, Detective,” I said, trying to sound casual while my heart stumbled over itself.
Maxwell’s face settled back into its familiar stern lines, dimples vanishing like they’d never existed.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Thorne.
” He picked up his bag and headed toward the cottage door.
“Let’s get inside and make a game plan for this dinner.
You can start filling me in on the pack. ”
As I watched Maxwell unlock the cottage door, the reality of where we were—who we’d be facing in just a few hours—should have sent me spiralling into panic. But instead, a strange calm had settled over me.
It took me a moment to recognize it. Maxwell wasn’t just tolerating this mission or doing his job. He was committing fully, putting himself between me and my family.
He was on my side.
Suitcase in hand, I followed him inside, my fingers absently tracing the spot on my forehead where his hand had brushed. The warmth of his touch lingered there like a shield.
The apprehension was still present—a low hum beneath my skin at the thought of facing my mother, the pack that had beaten me down and ultimately rejected me. But it was different now. Manageable. I wasn’t walking into the lion’s den alone.
“You were really good at that,” I said suddenly.
Maxwell paused his inspection of the cottage’s spacious reception. “Good at what?”
“The boyfriend act. You really sold it.” I aimed for casual, but my voice came out oddly sincere.
He shrugged, not quite meeting my eyes. “Just doing my job.”
“Well, you’re good at your job, then. And… thanks. For being here.”
Maxwell stilled, then gave a short nod. “We’re partners on this. I’ve got your back, Thorne.”
Partners. The word settled something inside me, unexpected and warm. Like finding solid ground after an eternity of treading water in the dark.
He shot me a piercing look through his glasses. “Just stop calling me Detective Dickface and we can call it even.”
My face split into a grin. I looked directly at him, broadcasting loudly… What about in my own head?
“No.”
Aww, but you love it, though.
“I really, really don’t.”
“Alright then, Teddy Bear,” I said, blowing him a kiss before dashing past him to the stairs, not looking behind to see his reaction. Because I wanted to imagine a smile dancing across his lips.