Chapter 59
FIFTY-NINE
LAUREL
Kaos sat next to me at the counter, eating the eggs I’d made for us.
One of my hands was still cuffed to his, the other resting on his laptop.
I felt the cool smoothness under my fingers as I worked up the courage to ask.
Something had changed since I’d found out he had been Demon; he’d been acting a lot more relaxed around me.
The alpha who had tied me up and slept next to me was gone; instead, he seemed like a playful pup, nipping at my heels, though I couldn’t figure out why. I wasn’t even sure he knew why.
“You have access to the security archives, right?” I started.
He turned his black eyes to me and nodded. “Can you show me? I wanted to try and find Jule.”
“Mayybe,” he sang, twirling more pasta around his chopsticks. “If you ask nicely.”
I sighed. “Please, can you show me the footage?”
He cocked an eyebrow. What else did he want?
“Pretty please?” I tried.
“Please, Kaos,” he prompted.
“Please, can you show me the footage, Kaos?”
He shivered slightly, and then shot me a grin. “Sure thing. Wanna go grab my laptop?”
“More than anything in the world,” I deadpanned, patting it where it lay on the table.
“Wow, you’re super fast,” he said, sounding impressed.
I opened it and slid it over to him.
If we were right about my father selling Jule, there was a chance he’d locked him in the pens before he left. It would be right around the time Jule had supposedly committed suicide—a week before his nineteenth birthday.
I held my breath as he brought up the folder. I couldn’t look at it yet, just in case the records weren’t there. Instead, I looked at Kaos’s pale face illuminated by the computer light. He had beautiful eyes, with long lashes, darting about the screen as he searched the records.
“Yeah, here you go,” he said, turning the laptop to me.
“You know this is just the stuff underground, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
I skipped ahead as guards moved around the securement wing like ants, fetching the alphas for their fights, then paused it when the guards marched in with someone new.
There was no mistaking that head of blond hair.
Jule.
He was thrown into an empty cell, the door locked behind him. I double-checked the date—days before his apparent death. I let out a sigh of relief. There was no way he’d committed suicide, then, right? But it still didn’t mean he was alive…
I skipped ahead as we watched Jule fall asleep, then wake up and wait.
It was the next morning when my father walked in to see him.
I watched as my father folded his arms, staring at Jule.
He stood up, pressing himself to the edge of the cage, and I could make out a smile on his bruised face.
Jule eventually stepped away, his body shaking with laughter.
Father jerked his head at the cage door, and two guards went to unlock it.
I watched as they put a muzzle on Jule and cuffed his hands behind his back. There was no sound, but I could tell my father was shouting at Jule, then kicked him in the ribs repeatedly. The interaction ended with my father spitting on the floor and leaving Jule in the cell again.
He didn’t move.
I could scarcely breathe as I skipped ahead, praying for him to move. “Come on,” I whispered to the screen as I kept clicking. “Get up.”
I almost cried with relief when Julius stirred almost four hours after, shuffling over so he was lying on the pallet.
Nothing much happened as I kept skipping forward, so I increased the time intervals. Three days later, Jule’s cage was empty. I skipped back, hour by hour until I reached footage where Jule’s cage was being opened again.
Kaos finished his pasta and scooted closer, resting his chin on my shoulder as I watched.
They’d brought five people this time, and four of them went into the cage. He must have had a strong aura for them to bring five alphas, but I’d always known how deadly Jule was. They held him down while they double checked that muzzle was secure and tied his arms.
The fifth leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette as the others tied Jule up. He was wearing a hat that blocked his face, so at first, I wasn't sure who it was. When they were walking out, though, I saw that he was wearing jeans and riding boots.
That was Ashton Vass.
I took some breaths, trying to calm myself.
Jule left those cages alive.
Alive.
Jade’s contact better have something.
KAOS
“Are these really necessary?” Laurel huffed, tugging on the handcuffs again.
I squinted at her, wondering if she was joking. We’d settled on the couches after dinner, and I’d almost fallen asleep when she asked her question.
“Duh,” I said. “I might forget about you, otherwise.”
Every time I felt the fog creeping toward me, the tug of the handcuffs kept me grounded.
To her scent.
To her.
I’d made it through the evening without being overwhelmed by dread or guilt, or just shutting down.
Didn’t she realize how important that was?
Plus, I could always situate her between me and the mirror, which meant I wouldn’t even have to see myself.
“Shh. Don’t move,” Laurel said, and I froze, on high alert.
“What is it?” I asked, and she pointed behind me. I slowly turned to find a pair of deep, dark eyes looking at me cautiously. Muppet had jumped onto the back of the couch, having apparently decided to brave approaching Laurel, despite my presence.
“That’s it? The cat?” I said, but Laurel wasn’t listening. Instead, she was scratching the couch next to her, trying to coax the cat over.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she said, and made some tsk-like noises.
“Mrrow?” Muppet chirped hopefully, picking his way to Laurel behind my head.
She leaned over and scratched his chin, and the cat started purring.
“He’s never come out when other people are around,” Laurel said, stroking her hand down Muppet’s back, and I couldn’t help feeling a little flattered. “It’s the only reason Father doesn’t know he exists.”
I turned and Muppet widened his eyes, flattening himself against the couch, ears back as if I’d struck at him.
“Don’t scare him,” Laurel scolded.
I snorted, about to say something sarcastic, but the noise scared Muppet and his paw lashed out. “Ow, fuck,” I said as he clipped me beneath my eye.
Muppet hit and ran across the hardwood floor and skidded hard, bunching up a rug before scrambling under a chair. Who had given that cat a licence to drive?
I touched my face and found blood. “Motherfucker,” I said, wincing.
He was skinny but packed a punch.
“It’s not his fault, you scared him,” Laurel said.
I looked at her in shock. “I snorted.”
“He’s got anxiety,” Laurel continued. She looked worried as she stared at the chair he was cowering beneath, and I sighed. I fished the key out of my pocket and unlocked the handcuffs so she could go and check on him.
It was probably his plan all along, the sneaky snake.
She approached the chair, cooing soft little noises and gently stretching her arm out toward him.
She seemed so soft like this. So sweet.
Trying to comfort a scared little bag of bones that lashed out when he got scared.
Asshole cat.
Asshole cat who I was totally jealous of.