Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-four
TOM
Tom’s coffee was going cold. He knew it, but couldn’t bring himself to drink it because once he did, he’d have to leave the park bench and walk through the archway into the National Council building.
The same historic building he’d gaped at on his first day here and that had since become simply his workplace, even though he still got a thrill from seeing the sweeping flight of marble stairs that led up to the Council chamber with the vast dome rising above it.
History was made here, and it had been rewarding to feel he was part of it, however tiny a role he played.
Now, though, he was going to walk through those doors and lose everything.
Except his self-respect. Which meant doing the right thing, no matter the cost.
He took a sip from the cup in his hand and grimaced as he realized he’d forgotten to add any sugar. His mind had been elsewhere when he’d picked it up from the counter. Most likely, he’d been focused on not thinking about Bryce, like he’d been for the last twenty-four hours.
The pit in his stomach just wouldn’t ease. No one rejected their mate. No one, unless their mate was Tom, apparently. Bryce had said being tied to him would be a sentence. Zack would’ve agreed. Maybe it was for the best, after all—at least he wouldn’t have to watch his mate grow to hate him.
Tom drank the coffee despite the lack of sugar, thinking with some sort of morbid amusement that the bitterness he tasted was probably about right for his life, then reluctantly got to his feet.
He made the walk across Upper Senate Park last as long as he could, the same way he’d dawdled when dropping off his case at the apartment.
If he’d moved faster, he might have had time to replace the phone he’d somehow left behind in Colorado, only realizing it at the airport, where he’d had to dig out his tablet to check in.
He probably should have cared more about it, considering the kind of stuff it contained.
But right now, he couldn’t spare the energy. Not with this meeting hanging over him.
He tossed the empty coffee cup into a handy trash can, and headed for the building and Councilor Steadman. She’d agreed to his request for a meeting as soon as he returned, so he could fill her in on details he couldn’t risk imparting over the phone.
That told him how much she’d prioritized the whole Argent thing, because some weeks getting even an instant of her time was impossible.
Now, all he had to do was break it to her that he, a lowly minion, was accusing someone, most probably the Leader of the National Council, of being a cold-blooded murderer several times over.
He didn’t think they’d covered this in any of the professional development courses he’d attended, unless it had been one marked “career suicide” that he’d somehow missed.
And if he screwed this up, if he told the wrong person, another pack could end up like Jesse’s.
Sighing, he straightened his necktie, squared his shoulders, and walked out of the sunshine and into the cool shadow of the Council building, toward whatever came next.
brYCE
“You know that asking Tom was our best option.”
Matt moved as silently as ever, his voice the first warning of his presence that Bryce had as he glared at the coffee machine.
“Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Bryce’s voice was tight, the way everything inside him had been since Tom had left. He yanked the jug out and slammed it back down after filling two mugs, sliding one toward Matt without looking at him.
“I don’t like a single thing that’s happened around here lately,” Matt said. “But there’s nothing we can do about that except deal with it. Instead, you’ve turned into a walking hornet nest.”
“You damn well know why,” Bryce said, feeling betrayed that Matt would pretend otherwise.
“I know what you’ve decided,” Matt said, pulling out his usual chair at the table and sitting down in it. “But I still don’t understand why. Not really.”
Bryce lowered his head and let out a long breath. He was still staring at the coffee machine, and maybe that was what allowed him to say it. Or maybe it was knowing that Matt wouldn’t let this one go, not till he got his answer.
“I don’t want to be in a relationship only because it’s written in my genes or however the hell the mate thing works,” he said to the coffee jug, which made no answer. He sighed again, gripping the edge of the counter. “I don’t want someone to love me only because of that.”
The coffee jug remained silent, but after a while Matt spoke. “Did you choose to love Tristan when he came to live here?”
Bryce turned around, frowning.
“Or maybe you chose not to fall in love with Dave?”
“What the fuck, Matt?” Bryce was tired after a night when he hadn’t been able to sleep because of his worry about what Tom might be walking into. He didn’t need to deal with Matt’s riddles right now.
“You can’t choose who to love, just like you can’t choose not to love someone,” Matt said.
“Whether it’s our genes, or fate, or some angelic little asshole with a bow and arrow, the reason we fall in love is out of our control.
That doesn’t make it wrong. It doesn’t mean it’s forced on us the way you seem to think. ”
Bryce opened his mouth, ready to trash Matt’s easy, smug opinion.
But every single argument that rose to his lips faded before forming into words because Matt made sense.
He knew there was a flaw there somewhere in his argument, and if he had long enough to think about it and weren’t so tired, he’d find it.
But right now he couldn’t, and something uneasy stirred in the pit of his stomach.
Because what if he’d sent Tom away, had hurt him, for no reason?
As the seconds passed and he still found no answer to Matt’s argument, uneasiness turned into the beginnings of sick horror. He remembered the expression in Tom’s eyes when he’d pushed him away.
But no, Matt was wrong. If Bryce gave in to this, how could he ever know if it was him Tom loved? He couldn’t go through life always wondering. He didn’t want to.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to make sense of it all, and then the kitchen door banged open.
Riley rushed in, clutching his laptop desperately and out of breath as if he’d been running.
“It’s Councilor Steadman,” he babbled, shoving his laptop toward Matt.
“Her father was Jax’s commanding officer, and his recommendation got Jax the post with Council security.
And there’s payments going out of her PAC account that tracked through so many proxies I lost the trail, but they match deposits in his account. It has to be her.”
“What?” The room whirled around Bryce as he grabbed at the laptop.
He could hardly read the words on the screen through his panic. He certainly couldn’t make sense of the highly classified military record of Master Sergeant Duane Jaxom.
“Tom,” he said, despair cracking his voice. “He’s going to tell her that he knows. We have to stop him.”
There was nothing like stating the really fucking obvious, but he didn’t know what to do. Terror had taken hold and he couldn’t think.
Thank God Matt didn’t have that problem—he already had his phone out and was flicking through until he found the number he was looking for and hit the button.
Bryce didn’t even have Tom’s number, he realized.
He had nothing except the memory of the look on Tom’s face when Bryce’s words had torn him apart.
He was trembling as he watched Matt swear, thumb the button then try again. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be—and then he cocked his head, because he could have sworn he heard something.
He glanced back to see Matt was still trying Tom, and he left the kitchen to try and find the source of that sound, out of place in the quiet house. As he moved along the hallway, it grew louder, and he finally placed it—the irritating default ringtone of someone’s phone.
He followed it all the way to Matt’s den.
Everything blurred as silence fell and he saw Tom’s gray jacket, folded neatly over the back of the chair where he’d left it.
Because of Bryce, he’d left without it. And then the phone started ringing again, urgent and insistent from the pocket of that damn jacket.
He took in a breath that was more like a sob, and his knees buckled. Tom was in danger. Maybe he was already hurt, or worse, and it was only now Bryce realized how wrong he’d been. He couldn’t lose Tom. He couldn’t.
It didn’t matter why Tom loved him. Fate, biology, random cosmic luck—none of it changed the truth that Tom loved him. And Bryce loved him right back. The thought of a world without Tom’s smile in it was unbearable.
He raced back up the hallway to find Matt just putting his phone down. “It’s no good—he left his phone here,” he said, snatching up his keys from the counter with a shaking hand and then checking his pocket for his wallet. “I’m going to Washington.”
“Hold on,” Matt said, utterly unruffled.
Bryce swung around and snarled at his alpha.
“If you’ll let me finish, I was going to say we’re coming too,” Matt said, and Bryce became aware of Jesse melting forward from where he’d been standing by the back door.
“Riley, wake Karl and tell him he’s in charge till I’m back.
If you can find an alternative number anywhere for Tom, for God’s sake call him and keep calling him till you get an answer. Tell him about Steadman. And good job.”
With the briefest of pauses to pick up ID, they were on the way to Denver and the airport. Every inch of asphalt felt like a hundred miles to Bryce as he snarled quietly beneath his breath at Matt to drive faster, damn it. Because if anything happened to Tom, he didn’t know what he’d do.