Chapter 12 Rory #2
“As soon as I shifted, Callum found me. Alone. I wasn’t in the right meeting spot. So nobody else was around.”
“And he just full-on attacked you? Jesus Christ!”
“Well. Sort of. Yes, he attacked me.” I swallowed, looking away. “Though technically I jumped on him first. But he provoked me. Verbally!” Another burst of rage at Callum’s words about Maxwell flooded through me.
Maxwell sighed deeply, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling beams, pressing both hands either side of his glasses.
Can we go back to the part where you were stroking behind my ears?
I pushed myself up to sitting, clutching the blanket around my waist, ignoring the protests from my battered body.
My suitcase was still at the bottom of the stairs.
My clothes! My phone! They were still by the tree.
I opened my mouth to tell Maxwell we needed to go get them immediately, before wisely snapping it shut.
If anyone caught the scent of my stuff, hopefully Felix’s security system would keep them out of my messages and emails.
I had bigger concerns, because Maxwell paced the small cottage living room like a caged animal, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards. With each turn, his scowl deepened, and I could practically hear his teeth grinding.
“This is exactly what I was worried about,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “I knew something like this would happen.”
I struggled to my feet, wobbling slightly as my head spun. The blanket slipped, and I grabbed it quickly, securing it around my waist. My shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, but I’d had worse. Much worse.
“Have you seen Freddy since you came home?”
He gave me a death stare. “Seriously?”
“Yes, Maxwell, seriously. It’s all fine now. Calm down.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden stillness was more unnerving than the pacing had been. When he turned to face me, his eyes were dangerously calm, like the surface of water just before it freezes.
“Calm down?” His voice was quiet, controlled. Terrifying. “You’re actually telling me to calm down right now?”
Cold dread shot through me and I wished more than anything that I could turn back into my wolf. The human part of me knew I’d stepped into dangerous territory. I’d seen Maxwell’s explosive anger on a few occasions when I’d pushed him too far. But this was something else.
“Umm… you know what? I take it back. Don’t calm down. Keep um… keep uncalming.”
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Don’t you dare make jokes right now.”
I tried to shift my weight, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. “Look, it’s not as bad as—”
“As what?” Maxwell cut me off, his voice rising. “As bad as abandoning your partner in the middle of hostile territory? As bad as running off with the people we’re actively investigating? As bad as getting yourself torn apart by another wolf?”
“I didn’t completely abandon you,” I protested. “I texted!”
“Oh, brilliant. You texted.” Maxwell’s laugh was hollow, bitter. “A dead battery and ‘going for a run, laters’ is your idea of proper communication? While I’m left trudging through pitch-black countryside where I could’ve been attacked at any moment?”
Fuck. That was true. And I hadn’t even considered it. Guilt flooded through me, and I clutched the blanket tighter around my waist. “Maxwell… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think of that. The cottage isn’t that far from—”
“I don’t actually care about that!” Maxwell slammed his hand against the wall, making me jump. “I promised your brother I’d keep you safe. I made a promise, Rory.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped, my own anger flaring. “I’m not some helpless moron who needs constant supervision. I can protect myself.”
“Really? Because evidence suggests otherwise.” He gestured wildly at my wounded shoulder.
I straightened despite the pain, pride stinging worse than my injuries.
“I was trying to further our investigation! You saw what they were like today—closed ranks, suspicious. You couldn’t read their minds, and they’re so guarded, they’re hardly going to let the slightest thing slip, are they? I need to earn their trust!”
“By getting yourself killed?”
“By trying to be one of them!” I shouted. “Running with the pack was a chance to get closer, to learn something, maybe!”
The anger seemed to drain from Maxwell suddenly as he studied my face. “Did you want to run with them to feel close to a pack again?”
The question caught me so off guard, I inhaled sharply. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze as something tender and painful stirred inside me. “No. It… it would have been horrible, anyway.”
“How so?”
“Running beside them but not being able to feel them. Being physically there but still… disconnected. It’s worse somehow, being right next to what you can’t have.
” I risked a glance up at him. There was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
“Look, I just want this whole thing over as quickly as possible. I barely held it together today with Edina pretending to be mother of the year. I want to find Dev and go home. That’s all. ”
“So your brilliant plan was to run off without talking to me and get into a fight?” Maxwell stepped closer. “Did you consider for one second what would happen if you didn’t come back? If they’d all suddenly decided to finish what Callum started?”
“I knew what I was doing!”
“Did you?” He was close enough now that I could smell mint on his breath. “Because from where I’m standing, you never think things through. You never consider anyone else. Never stop to consider the consequences.”
His words stabbed into me, in the same spots where my parents’ voices had carved permanent wounds. “You never think things through. You never consider anyone else.” How many times had I heard those exact words? How many times had teachers, my parents, pack elders thrown them at me like stones?
“That’s not fair,” I managed, but my voice came out small as the familiar shame crept up my throat, hot and choking.
I was eight years old again, being told I was selfish for forgetting to do my chores.
Twelve, being called reckless for climbing too high in a tree.
Fifteen, hearing that I was too impulsive, too chaotic, too much for anyone to handle properly.
Maybe they were all right. Maybe I really am just broken.
Maxwell’s expression shifted, his anger dissolving into something that looked almost like horror.
“I didn’t mean—” He stopped himself, jaw working as he struggled with something.
“You’re not broken, Rory. It’s just… Do you even care about your own wellbeing?
Or are you so desperate to prove yourself that you’ll risk everything? ”
“I care about solving this case,” I said through gritted teeth. “I care about finding Dev. I care about not spending one more day in this nightmare than necessary.”
“And what about the people who care about you?” Maxwell asked quietly. “What about them?”
The question crackled in the air like a live wire, something in his tone sending my heart into an erratic beat against my possibly fractured ribs.
“Don’t pretend you care about me,” I said. “I’m just an assignment. A problem you’re stuck with.”
Something sparked in Maxwell’s eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it true?” I challenged. “You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me from day one, Maxwell. Even before you arrested me that night.”
“You have no idea how I feel,” he growled, and suddenly the air between us seemed to thrum with something beyond anger.
“Then enlighten me,” I whispered, my heart still hammering. “How do you feel?”
Maxwell’s hands clenched at his sides, like he was fighting some internal battle. He took a half step closer, the space between us shrinking. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly.
“I’m not sure that’s a feeling, Detective Maxwell.” I retreated a step, but couldn’t resist adding, “Perhaps you should be more specific.” My heart skipped a beat as he followed, advancing like a predator.
“It is when it comes to you,” he said. “Impossible. Infuriating. Reckless.”
With each word, he moved forward, and I backed away until the cool plaster of the cottage wall pressed against my bare shoulders. The blanket slipped slightly, and I clutched it tighter, suddenly aware of my near-nakedness.
“Still not feelings,” I challenged, tilting my chin up. “Those are just adjectives.”
Maxwell’s breath hitched. He moved forward suddenly, one hand landing on the wall beside my head, effectively caging me in.
The manoeuvre left me breathless, with his soft exhalation ghosting across my forehead.
His size should have made me feel trapped, claustrophobic—I usually despised being cornered—but right then, there was something almost thrilling about being caught in Maxwell’s orbit.
“You want feelings?” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I feel terrified every time you’re out of my sight. I feel like I’m losing my mind when you pull stunts like tonight.”
I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of his black pepper and lemongrass cologne mingling with sweat and forest air. Raindrops-lemongrass-Maxwell.
The wall behind me was solid and cool, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from Maxwell as he leaned in closer.
“That sounds suspiciously like caring,” I said, my voice a whisper.
His eyes met mine, defiant and vulnerable all at once. “Maybe it is.”
Maxwell’s eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up so quickly I might have imagined it—except for the way my entire body responded, a violent shiver coursing through me like a shockwave.
For one wild, irrational moment, I imagined what it would be like to kiss him.
Detective Dickface. The man who’d arrested me, when he was supposed to help me.
The man who drove me absolutely mental. What a stupid, impossible thought.