Chapter 11 Theodore #4
To Rory’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “Oh, I don’t,” he said merrily. “We just fancied a holiday, didn’t we, Teddy?”
He squeezed my hand so tightly I could have sworn my bones crunched.
“Yes. It’s so interesting to see where Rory grew up,” I said, causing Callum’s eyes to narrow at me.
“Ah, but has he told you what he was like as a child?” Callum asked me with a horrible smile. “Our little Rory here was quite the handful, weren’t you?”
Rory’s grip on my hand tightened impossibly further, but his smile never wavered. “Something like that.”
Callum swirled his drink. “The tantrums, the defiance, the complete inability to follow simple instructions. It was quite entertaining for the rest of us.” He turned to me with false sympathy. “I hope for your sake he’s finally grown up.”
Every muscle in my body coiled tight. It took every inch of my self-restraint not to punch him in his smug face. “Rory’s told me all about his time here,” I said, my voice carefully level. “Including the people who made it difficult.”
Callum’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “Difficult? We were the ones who had to deal with him.” He grinned wickedly, addressing me directly to ask, “Tell me, does he still struggle with authority? Or have you managed to house-train him?”
The blood roared in my ears. I’d arrested actual criminals who showed more respect for basic human dignity than this bastard.
“Callum,” Rory said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“What? I’m just sharing fond memories with your… boyfriend.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tear strips off this sanctimonious prick, but Alex’s voice boomed across the room before I could speak.
“Callum! Come here a moment, would you?”
Alex’s gaze flicked between us and Callum, who for a moment seemed like he may not move. Then, with visible reluctance, he straightened his jacket and walked away.
“Well, he was a piece of work,” I muttered.
“Told you,” Rory said, but his usual spark was dimmed, shoulders curved inward.
“Did I see you just deliberately enter a conversation with Callum?” a low voice said behind us.
I turned to find Alexander’s daughter, Isla, with her bright ginger hair.
“Isla!” Rory exclaimed with genuine warmth.
They embraced briefly, and I caught a flash of her thoughts—
…still can’t believe he actually came back…
Had Isla not been instructed to control her mind? Or perhaps, she didn’t care to?
“He was glaring at us from across the room,” Rory said.
“Maybe he was wondering how you managed to bag someone so hot.” She glanced at me with a half smirk. “Or was plotting your death,” she said cheerily. “Probably a mix of both. He’s been boasting for years about how you’d never dare show your face here again.”
“What do you mean, bag someone so hot?” Rory said, with a pretend scowl on his face. “If anyone, Teddy is the one punching up.”
“Dream on,” I said, earning me an elbow to the stomach.
“Anyway, how is our dear Callum these days?” Rory asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Still licking Mother’s boots?”
“From what I hear, worse than ever,” Isla rolled her eyes. “He’s practically her shadow now. Reports everything back to her. Every conversation, every slight, every perceived challenge to her authority. It’s pathetic.”
I sneaked a glance at Callum. He was pretending to listen to Alex, but his gaze was now fixed on Isla with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable.
“Also…” Isla said, her voice dropping to a disgusted whisper. “Three times since I moved to Edinburgh Callum has ‘accidentally’ run into me. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?” Rory asked. “Has he got a thing for you or something?”
“Thing?” Isla scoffed. “More like an obsession. Last Christmas he got drunk and cornered me in the library with mistletoe.”
Rory sniggered. “Sorry. Poor you. God, I’m glad to have one friend here.”
Isla’s expression shifted. “You know,” she said very quietly. “I’ve really missed you these past five years.”
Rory’s face softened immediately. “Isla—”
“No, I mean it,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I barely come back here anymore. Maybe twice a year, if that. Christmas and Midsummer, and even then only because Dad guilts me into it. I hate it here. The constant politics, the way everyone watches everyone else, waiting for someone to step out of line. The way they all bow to Edina like she’s some sort of goddess.
The way people still like to gossip about Mum’s death even though it was seven years ago. ”
Rory reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed in touch better. I just… I couldn’t bear any connection to this place.”
“Don’t apologise,” Isla said firmly. “You were brave to leave. Braver than I’ve ever been. You were the smart one,” she said, looking directly at Rory. “Getting out when you did. Making your own life.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said gently. “But Isla, Edina knew my full name, and title. Even though we never told a soul. Do you know how?”
Green eyes widened. “Well, she wouldn’t have let you through the gate if she didn’t know who you were.” She cocked her head. “Who are you?”
Before I could respond, the sharp sound of glasses clinking cut through the room. A hush fell immediately.
“Dinner is served,” a voice announced from the doorway.
We followed the procession through to another grand room, dominated by a long table that must have seated more than twenty, though not every place was set. Relief washed through me when Alexander and Isla took seats vaguely opposite us.
An elderly woman with elegant grey braids wrapped in colourful fabric settled beside Alexander, introducing herself as Nessa Okonkwo. Her eyes lingered on me with unmistakable curiosity.
“Theodore Maxwell,” I replied, offering my hand.
“We so rarely entertain humans at our table. Especially Detective Inspectors.”
She said my title like it was a joke that amused her. I gritted my teeth. These people were determined to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible, and it was working.
Throughout the first course—a blood-rare venison carpaccio that turned my stomach—my telepathy reached out tentatively. Wisps of something floated from the nearest wolves before their minds snapped shut, sensing the intrusion. Their sustained mental defence impressed me.
Alexander’s thoughts remained open, whether by choice or ignorance of my abilities. Nothing juicy filtered through—just concerns about rearranged work meetings and hopes of escaping the pack run later.
I still couldn’t believe Rory hadn’t flat-out refused his mother’s request. Hopefully he understood that he wouldn’t be leaving my sight at any point, especially not to run off into the wilderness with the family that broke him.
The second course arrived—more meat, this time a barely seared rack of lamb. I eyed my fork on the way to my mouth. Was this even safe for me to eat? Or even, could the food be poisoned?
I pushed the lamb around my plate, trying to locate anything green. “Do all wolves have something against vegetables?” I joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Or is this just Scottish cuisine?”
Nessa’s laughter cut through the tension. “Our diet does tend toward protein, Detective. Especially before a run.” Her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “Some of the game tonight is fresh meat that we caught on a recent hunt.”
“In the estate?”
“And the general Highlands.” Her smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “We do leave our prison. For short periods.”
The word “prison” hung in the air between us. Was she trying to test me? I kept my expression neutral, maintaining eye contact with her as I took another tiny bite of the bloody lamb.
My gaze flicked to Rory beside me, radiating misery. His leg tapped an anxious beat until his palm slammed against it, stilling it abruptly.
How would I survive a whole week up here? The only way to end this torment was to get the information we’d come for—namely, the whereabouts of Devraj Bassi.
I’d never felt so out of my depth. My ordered world I navigated daily—the one where my badge carried weight and my telepathy gave me an edge—had evaporated the moment we crossed the threshold of Thorne Manor.
Here, I was just prey among predators, the lone human in a sea of wolves with gleaming teeth and ancient grudges.
The familiar confidence that carried me through homicide scenes and interrogation rooms had abandoned me completely. My training meant nothing here. What good was police procedure against pack law? What use would I be fighting creatures who could tear me apart in seconds?
Every instinct screamed that we should leave immediately. This wasn’t just uncomfortable—this felt dangerous. I could call Kit, force him to talk some sense into his brother. We could be back in London by morning.
“Teddy?” Rory’s elbow dug into my ribs, jarring me from my spiralling thoughts. “Alex is trying to talk to you.”
I blinked, forcing my attention back to the table. Alex was watching me expectantly.
“Sorry,” I managed, plastering what I hoped was a convincing smile across my face while my heart tried to escape my rib cage. “Miles away.”
“I hear you’re a detective in London,” Alex said, his Scottish accent pronounced on the city name.
Everyone has heard that, I almost spat at him. They probably knew my shoe size and blood type too.
“That’s correct.”
“And how did you two meet?” Alex pressed, glancing between us with undisguised curiosity.
Before I could formulate a response, Rory piped up beside me, that trademark mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s just say it involved handcuffs.”
I laughed too loudly, the sound brittle and forced. “Oh, I do love his sense of humour,” I said, squeezing Rory’s forearm with barely disguised warning. “I’m afraid we actually met in a coffee shop.”
…boring…
Rory’s dismissive thought floated into my mind, clear as a bell, with an edge of challenge to it.