Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-two
TOM
The espresso machine hissed and spluttered like it was doing something useful, but his cup was still empty. He stared at it, waiting, his hands braced against the counter like he needed to hold the kitchen in place.
Bennett had looked haunted when he’d beckoned Tom into his office, but his handshake had been firm. “I’ll be frank,” he’d said. “This Council needs cleaning from the inside out. And we need people like you to do it.”
Tom wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Condemnation or suspicion, probably.
But instead, Bennett had leaned forward and asked him, quietly and seriously, if he’d consider stepping in temporarily to pull together a new team providing security for the Council.
Until they figured out how deep the rot went.
“You’ve got experience, judgment, and, above all, integrity,” Bennett had said, dryly. “Which is more than can be said for others around here.”
Tom had nodded, because what else could he do? The world had split wide open beneath his feet. The least he could do was try to steady it.
Now, standing in his kitchen, he waited for the espresso machine to finish its tantrum. Bryce would be out of the shower soon, and maybe Bryce and coffee would help everything make sense again.
But then the machine popped, releasing pressure, and he flinched. It was too close to the sound of a suppressed gunshot. He could still see Jax’s face, cold and efficient. There’d been no anger, no hatred. He’d just been doing a job.
And the job had been killing him.
Tom tightened his grip on the counter, the granite edge biting into his palms. He was safe. He was home, for whatever that meant these days. He was okay.
But the moment he let go of the counter, he knew he wasn’t okay.
Councilor Steadman had ordered it.
Not just today. Not just him, but Jesse’s pack. Jesse’s family. Shifters with silver coats. He’d seen the awe when the councilors had seen Jesse, had heard the reverence in how they spoke about him. And she’d ordered them all killed.
Jesse had been—what? Seven years old?
Tom pressed his palm hard against the edge of the counter. The coffee hissed and gurgled on, oblivious.
Seven years old.
How did anyone give an order like that? How did they live with it afterward?
How had she looked him in the eye all these years when talking about ethics, leadership, and service?
He thought about the meetings they’d shared, the late nights spent drafting policy, her quiet encouragement when he’d doubted himself. All of it was lies.
He squeezed his eyes shut and saw Jesse, so in control until someone brought up his pack. And then, his hands had curled into fists.
He felt cold. Not just physically, though the tile beneath his feet felt like ice. Cold all the way through, like something essential had cracked inside him, and all the warmth had leaked out.
He’d trusted and respected her. He’d followed her lead, defended her against critics, believed in the work she was doing. And all along…
All along, she’d been the monster.
A sound escaped him—quiet and raw. His knees gave a little, and he clutched the counter tighter.
Steadman hadn’t just betrayed the Council.
She’d betrayed everything Tom had stood for, everything he believed in.
And now she was gone. Another shifter would be voted in, taking her place on the Council as if she’d never been.
But the things she’d done—those weren’t gone.
They were carved into the world, into Jesse’s life. Into Tom’s.
He was still staring blindly at the counter when Bryce stepped into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Bryce said, voice low, uncertain.
Tom didn’t move.
He felt, rather than saw, Bryce hesitate. Then a hand settled gently on the small of his back.
Tom flinched.
“Tom.” Bryce’s voice was firmer now. “What is it?”
It wasn’t fair, Tom thought distantly, that Bryce got to sound like that. Solid. The one thing in the world that wasn’t crumbling.
He turned his face, just enough that Bryce could see the tears in his eyes.
“I worked for her for seven years,” he said hoarsely. “I admired her. I thought she— She was the one who taught me to listen to what someone wasn’t saying. She made me want to be better.”
Bryce drew closer, his hand still warm and steady against Tom’s back.
“And she killed them. An entire pack.” His voice cracked. “She ordered it. And she looked me in the eye every day and made me think we were on the same side.”
Bryce didn’t hesitate this time. He folded Tom into his arms, strong and sure, and held him as tightly as he needed.
Tom sagged into him, the last of his resistance finally breaking.
“I didn’t see it,” he whispered. “I didn’t see her. And if I could miss that… what else have I been wrong about?”
“Not this,” Bryce murmured. “Not us.”
Tom let out a broken laugh that ended in a choked sound. “I want to believe you.”
“You can,” Bryce said softly, not letting go. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Tom let his head drop onto Bryce’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
Maybe not everything was broken. Maybe some things could still be put right. For now, he let Bryce hold him and take the weight. Just for a moment.
brYCE
Bryce didn’t go far after Tom crumpled. He’d helped him to the couch, pressed a coffee into his hands, and sat beside him quietly, hoping his support, his presence, would help.
And slowly, Tom had… relaxed was too strong a word, as was recovered.
How could he get past knowing someone he knew so well, someone he’d worked for and admired, had ordered his murder like it was a pizza?
She hadn’t even known for sure but had been willing to do it just in case Tom knew something.
Tying up a loose end, like Tom’s life was nothing more than an unruly ball of twine.
Slowly, the tension had left Tom’s body.
Now, they were propped against one another, legs stretched out, and the coffee forgotten on the table.
The TV murmured softly in front of them, the chyron scrolling quotes from Councilor Bennett’s office as Matt and Jesse gave a press conference.
Bryce didn’t care about the spin. He was watching Jesse.
He was at Matt’s side, but he looked like stubbornness and sarcasm were the only things stopping him from running. Bryce knew the signs.
“He looks like he wants to throw something,” Tom said hoarsely, his first real words in a while.
Bryce nodded. “Probably Bennett.”
Tom let out a breath that could have been a laugh.
The press conference had been going for a while, but it looked like it was about to come to a very swift end, because some clueless journalist was asking Jesse about fathering pups. “Don’t you think it’s your duty to ensure the survival of your line?”
“Don’t you think it’s your duty to switch your brain on before you leave your house for the day?” Bryce muttered savagely, seeing the expression on Matt’s face. And Tom actually growled at the TV, low and threatening.
“You askin’ me to cheat on my mate?” Jesse asked her. “Real sorry to disappoint you, especially in front of all these folks, but you ain’t exactly my type.”
His laconic put-down had the rest of the room laughing, thank God, because the fury burning in Matt’s eyes meant things were an instant from going to hell.
A woman sitting in the front row, from one of the more serious papers, asked, “What’s next for the shifter community in the light of this revelation?”
Bennett, whose smugness practically radiated off the screen, had opened his mouth to answer, but Jesse’s scratchy drawl slipped in first.
“Well, I’m hopin’ there’s some more Argents out there. Ones maybe thinking it’s safe to come out now, knowing they’re not gonna get hunted down.”
And then Matt was standing up, his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Thank you all. Councilor Bennett will take any further questions.”
Jesse got to his feet and Matt guided him out of a curtained door at the back of the room, ignoring the questions called after them. Bryce wasn’t surprised at Matt’s decision to leave. Hell, his throat had ached at the soft, plaintive hope threading through Jesse’s voice.
He glanced sideways to see Tom had buried his head in his hands. To think of all that Steadman had wrenched away from Jesse, all those lives…
Tom raised his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t know how he does it. Keeps standing.”
“Yeah,” Bryce said, because he didn’t know either.
Tom moved to press against Bryce, their shoulders touching lightly.
“I’ve been thinking,” Bryce said, his voice low, “about Jax’s team. How people can go from serving with honor to executing civilians.” He swallowed. “They can’t all have been like him, not at the start. Something twisted them, and for the life of me, I can’t understand it.”
Tom sighed. “I’m guessing they wanted power. Or maybe it was money, or loyalty to the wrong people.”
Bryce sat with that in silence for a few moments before glancing over again. “You think Steadman will make it to trial?”
“No.” The word was soft, final, and free from regret.
“Once shifters hear what she did, that she had Argents killed, the fury will be beyond reckoning. You know how special they were. Hell, look at how everyone’s hanging off Jesse’s every word.
” He drew in a breath. “Only way she makes it to trial is if she’s guarded by non-shifters. ”
“And that’s not going to happen,” Bryce said. Then he glanced sideways at Tom. “So what does all this mean for your job? Your career?”
Tom shook his head, and strangely, he looked rueful rather than devastated. “I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”
His eyes rested on the screen, where Jesse had been, proud and defiant. “But one thing I know, it won’t be in her shadow.”