Chapter Three – Too Many Walls and Too Many Assholes #2
That does it. He lunges and punches me right in the face. It hurts, but I know he isn’t strong enough to cause any real damage. I glance at my brothers, and they are both tense, posture stiff, but they stay in their chairs; they know I led Moles to this.
“You piece of shit!” Moles shouts, panting.
I just stare at him calmly. “Officer Moles,” I say, loud enough for the room. “You approached my table and assaulted me. As the station cameras can confirm, I didn’t respond with force. You done? Or should I press charges?”
“You fucking dog—!”
He starts forward again, but two officers grab him and pull him back. They know he’s crossed the line, even with a stray aegis.
Maybe after this, pushing our buttons will seem a little less fun for the rest of them.
The day drags by after that, painfully slow. I give desk work half my attention, with the rest of my brain four weeks ahead, obsessively thinking about how the match meeting’s gonna go.
We’re not allowed any information about the nyra. Not her name, not where she lives, nothing. It’s a rule of the program to make it harder for a pack to hunt down and stalk a nyra after rejection.
I understand the reason for the rule, but still, I can’t stop thinking about her. What she smells like. What she looks like. What kind of person she is.
By the end of our shift, I’m so distracted I give up entirely on reviewing my paperwork and spend the last half hour browsing the Matching Center’s webpage.
I’m looking for anything: what happens after the match meeting, what the next steps are if she really is our scent-mate.
But there’s nothing there. Jay had already squeezed all the useful info out of it.
When we finally clock out, it feels like a release.
The next morning, the slow torture begins again.
We do everything we can to stay busy, to make time pass and to give the humans fewer chances to mess with us. Filing evidence logs. Updating case databases. Helping inventory gear in the back room.
At the end of the day, I’m just glad it’s one less to wait. We repeat the same thing the next day. And the next. And the next.
The phrase “our nyra” is part of our vocabulary now. At the station, we keep our mouths shut, but at home, it’s all we talk about.
I know Shane and Jay are trying to manage their expectations, same as me, but it’s hard, and most of the time we slip and talk like she’s already ours. And with that hope comes a whole new set of fears. One night, Jay voices the worst one over dinner.
“What if she really is our scent-mate, but her family doesn’t accept us?”
We all go quiet.
The truth is, no family wants their daughter bonded to a stray pack.
But for once, thinking about my fathers and Lydia brings me comfort. Because after they scented each other, nothing could keep them apart: not my mother’s heartbreak, not the life they’d built, not me, their baby in her arms. Nothing stopped it.
“It’d be hard for her to go against her family,” I say. “But if she’s really ours, no one can keep her from us.”
Shane and Jay nod, solemn.
It’s not ideal, coming into someone’s life already causing trouble, but we’ve never been ideal. And there’s nothing we can do about it.
Eventually, the two-week mark hits, and it’s finally time for the Full Use-of- Force Review Board hearing.
I should feel relieved. Not only have we managed to avoid another incident like the one with Moles, but we’re halfway through our four-week wait. And after the board clears us, we’ll finally be allowed back in the field, away from this suffocating station.
But I know something is off the minute we walk in. Preston Moles smiles at us like he’s been handed the punchline to a joke we don’t know we’re in. From the way Jay and Shane are holding themselves, I know they feel it too.
Our hearing is scheduled for eleven. By ten-thirty, we’re already seated in the briefing room.
Lieutenant Johan from Internal Affairs arrives first, followed by the department’s legal counsel and the medical evaluator.
The psychological representative comes in next. And then, of course, Captain Balls.
When I look at him, I know exactly what’s wrong. The grin on his face, the way he’s all chummy with the others, it tells me everything: he’s worked them. This isn’t a hearing. It’s a setup.
I feel something heavy settle in my chest, pressing on my lungs. Balls looks straight at us, and his smile stretches even wider. We’re trapped. The son of a bitch cornered us, and there’s nothing we can do to escape.
If the board rules against us, we’ll get suspended. That’ll delay the match meeting by eight weeks after the suspension.
Eight. Fucking. Weeks.
Getting overruled by Commander Eneas in our favor bruised Ball’s ego, and this is how he plans to get even.
Lieutenant Johan opens the session, voice formal and cold. “This Use of Force Review Board is convened on March 7th, 2025, at 1100 hours, regarding officer-involved shooting 25-0734, which occurred on February 21st, 2025, at Saint Marie High School, Greenster District.”
He continues reading the same report we already know by heart. “Involved personnel: Officers Kory Larsen, Jayson Larsen, and Shane Larsen, designated as Aegis Unit, assigned to Greenster PD Station Nine, under the command of Captain Stewart Smith.
“This board will determine whether the use of lethal force by Officer Shane Larsen was in accordance with departmental policy, including decision-making under stress, threat perception, and tactical response.”
He glances briefly around the room.
“Present today: Lieutenant David Johan, Internal Affairs; Peter Lane, Departmental Counsel; Dr. Elizabeth Morsel, Medical Evaluator; Dr. Jacob Puzinky, Behavioral Health Unit; and Captain Stewart Smith, Command Representative. The involved officers are present with department representation.”
He shuffles papers, then adds, “All relevant footage, written reports, dispatch logs, and post-incident medical and psychological evaluations have been submitted and reviewed. We will begin with a formal recap before entering the questioning phase.”
The air in the room is thick. I can smell it: our stress, our restraint. We’re all pushing calming pheromones into the air, trying to regulate each other, but it’s not enough. Not with Balls sitting across from us, gloating.
Lieutenant Johan continues.
“On February 21st, at 0913 hours, Greenster PD Dispatch received multiple 911 calls reporting shots fired at Saint Marie High School.
Patrol Units 204 and 217, from Greenster Station Two, were the first on scene.
They confirmed an active shooter with hostages and requested tactical backup.
Aegis Unit responded, arriving at approximately 0937 hours.
“The suspect, later identified as John Mackenzie, white male, age 22, barricaded himself in Classroom 2-C with twenty-three students. Negotiators were en route, SWAT inbound. Aegis Unit was ordered to approach and hold position outside the classroom door, pending crisis negotiation.”
He doesn’t even look at us as he continues.
“At 0948 hours, the suspect exited the classroom holding a student — male, fifteen years of age — with a firearm pressed to the student’s temple. Witnesses and ballistics confirmed the weapon was a Glock 17, previously discharged at least seven times.
“Despite a hold-fire directive issued over radio, Officer Shane Larsen discharged his sidearm at 0950 hours. The round struck the suspect at the base of the skull. He was pronounced dead at the scene. The student was unharmed, cleared by EMS for minor superficial injuries.”
Johan closes the folder in front of him. “This board will now proceed with direct questioning.”
Balls wastes no time.
“Officer Larsen,” he says, “did you receive the hold-fire order directly through your radio?”
“Yes, sir,” Shane replies.
“And you fired approximately sixty seconds after that order was issued?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In your statement, you claimed you knew the suspect was about to fire. You have some kind of psychic ability we don’t know about, Officer Larsen?”
Shane doesn’t blink. “No, sir. The student tripped on a backpack. The suspect’s posture shifted, arm tensed, trigger finger moved. I made the call.”
“So you fired a lethal round based on a twitch?”
“Yes, sir.” His tone is flat. Balls gets nothing from him, and I couldn’t be prouder.
The psych doc jumps in. “Officer Larsen, what was your emotional state at the time of discharge?”
“Focused. ”
“Even after a twelve-hour overnight shift?”
“Yes, sir.”
He turns to the doc. “Doctor Morsel, any hormonal irregularities?”
She keeps her eyes down. “Hormonal levels are within standard post-incident range. That said, we can’t conclusively rule out a transient spike during the event itself.”
It’s absolute bullshit, but the psych nods smugly. “Then I believe we’re done—”
The door opens with a soft click.
“Apologies for the delay,” a familiar voice says. “Travel issue.”
Commander Eneas.
The whole room turns. This time, he’s not alone. His brothers, Deputy Commanders Julius and Leon Eneas, follow closely behind. The presence of the full Eneas pack ripples through the room like a shockwave.
“Commander,” Balls says quickly, “this is just a routine review—”
“I’m aware.” Eneas brushes past him without a glance and takes a seat, his brothers settling in on either side of him. “Where are we?”
“Questioning phase.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Eneas replies, turning to Shane. “Officer Larsen, did you have a clear line of fire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any alternative options to resolve the situation safely?”
“No, sir.”
“In your report, the hostage sustained minor bruising. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. Kory caught him before he hit the ground.”
The commander turns to me. “Good pack response.”
He finally looks at Balls. “This really seems open-and-shut, Captain.”
Balls’s face turns blotchy. “That’s not necessarily the case, Commander. Dr. Morsel raised the possibility of hormonal destabilization—”
“Did she?” Eneas asks, turning to the doctor. “On what basis?”
Dr. Morsel’s hands flutter over her notes. “We… we can’t confirm or deny a surge occurred—”
Deputy Commander Leon cuts in, his sharp gaze fixed on her. “And in six years of service, has Officer Larsen ever tested out of range?” His voice is flat, but his expression full of quiet disgust.
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes dart to Balls, as if waiting for him to jump in.
Eneas checks his watch, then tilts his head. “Unless someone has actual evidence, I suggest we conclude. All in agreement that the use of force was within policy?”
Silence.
He stands. “This hearing is concluded.”
He looks at the three of us. “Officers Larsen, you are cleared to return to full duty. You’re dismissed.”
We’re so stunned it takes us a minute to realize we should leave the room.
Wordless, we head back to our desks in a daze. By the time my brain catches up enough to realize I haven’t even thanked the commander, he and his brothers are already gone.