ELIANO #3
"Get your terminology straight. A serial killer kills with cooling periods. Salt would be considered a mass murderer, since he killed them in one shooting."
"Wow, that sounds so much better!" I burst into laughter, dripping with mockery. "A mass murderer, what a relief. And here I was, all worried. Silly me."
Storm snorts loudly. "Calm down. Second Chance would not have taken Salt if he were just a cold-blooded killer."
"How do you kill four people and not qualify as a cold-blooded murderer? Please, do explain it to me like I’m five," I say, my mouth twisting into a sarcastic grimace.
Storm takes a deeper breath, his fingers still firmly gripping my shoulder. It looks like he’s digging through deeper reserves of patience.
"It happened in the heat of the moment. He shot the people he believed were responsible for his brother’s horrible death.
It was not calculated or premeditated. He heard them talking about torturing him, raping and killing, and he shot them.
The Second Chance people examined his case very closely and decided he deserves exactly that, a second chance.
That is why I am asking you to at least try.
Go up to him, shake his hand, and we will see what this is really about. "
I let out a huff in frustration. "A tragic story, admittedly, but this still looks really bad. He may be impulsive, and geared toward violence. And you do not even know my name or who I am!"
"That does not matter to me, because my job is to find the perfect matches—"
Inevitably, I have enough of his stubbornness.
"Maybe it should matter, damn it! I am not some random guy with no baggage. I am Anzo Ferro’s nephew, get it? Yes, the mafia capo dethroned three days ago shortly after a failed assassination attempt that happened, surprise, surprise, right here on the grounds of your damn matchmaking house!"
Storm’s face changes.
It’s like the air escapes him. His turquoise eyes even seem to dim a little as he stares at me for a few strangely long seconds. Then he goes pale, looks away, lifts a hand, and rubs his forehead. What is that about?
"You ran from their compound three days ago, didn’t you?"
I freeze. Why is he asking that? I manage, "Yes."
"You escaped with your brother and a few others?"
Damn it. How could he know that? I try to step back, but his other hand holds me firmly in place. I would rather not make a scene or struggle, so I just grit my teeth.
"How do you know?"
Storm is silent for a moment. "That is not relevant right now," he adds evasively.
"I would actually like to know."
Storm presses his lips together, then mutters, "It is public knowledge. After the FBI raid, the papers reported that two of Anzo’s nephews escaped the compound, along with others." His tone is cautiously neutral. I am almost certain he did not learn this from the newspapers, but I cannot prove it.
The silence is heavy, and Storm sighs.
"So, your name is Eliano Ferro," he says, more like a statement, tilting his head.
"Yes," I mutter under my breath. "But I would prefer my surname not be discussed openly. My brother Rocco, the new capo, is a psycho and he might be looking for me as we speak." I try to step back again.
This time it works, and Storm’s hand drops.
"Listen, that thing… it doesn’t matter now. All I need from you is to step into that booth and shake Salt’s hand. Everything else is for later. And no need to worry about us telling anyone."
"Dude, really? You seem obsessed with this stepping-inside-and-shaking-hands thing. Can’t you see? I’m not a suitable candidate here. My bank account is loaded, but it’s out of my reach for now. Rocco would track me down by monitoring the transactions."
Storm closes his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength and pushing his impatience aside.
"There are things you do not know yet. Salt has additional options when it comes to purchasing his contract. If it is confirmed that Salt is your True Mate, a lot of things could change for the better, for both of you."
I jerk my head slightly in irritation, then take a deep breath and mutter, "Fine!"
There’s no point in arguing with him any further. Storm seems to have only one mode, go in there and shake his hand, and he’s blind and deaf to any voice of reason.
"Okay." The purple straightens and brushes some imaginary dust from my shoulder. His brows are still furrowed when he adds, "Do not let Salt’s behavior put you off. He can be very… salty."
"Whatever."
Finally, he steps back and we head toward the booth. Salt is still absorbed in the stack of papers in front of him.
The case handler, on the other hand, looks at me sideways.
"We’re going in," Storm says firmly, ignoring the crease on Gessler’s forehead.
The handler does not reply, but he walks alongside me toward the booth.
That is when Salt reacts for the first time.
He lifts his head, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise. Has no one ever shown interest in his contract before?
The handler opens the door with a card, and I notice that the beta police officer stands up immediately as well and enters the booth with us, making the small space suddenly feel incredibly crowded.
Salt rises to his feet and then suddenly lets out a loud, barking laugh.
"You have got to be kidding me, Storm. Did you actually bring me a hubby candidate?"
His laugh is pretty wild. Well. Not the reaction I was expecting.
I decide not to say anything. Instead, I draw in a breath, a reflex common to any alpha when meeting someone new. Especially a potential romantic interest.
Unfortunately, Salt is a beta, so there is no Allure, though at the edge of my awareness I catch a faint scent, a mix of kiwi and that aromatic fruit called yuzu. It is very subtle, likely from cosmetics rather than his natural scent. It is hard to tell at such a low intensity.
I watch him carefully, my face unfazed, as he laughs, and… he notices. His laughter shifts slightly then, becoming more deliberate, more controlled, if that makes sense.
Now that I see him up close, standing, I can tell he is a slender beta, almost six feet, just as described. His lean build gives him a flexible, catlike vibe.
Up close, his face is feline too, but also beautiful in a wild, sharp, watchful way that makes it hard to look away. I have to blink to keep from staring.
He lifts his gaze as well, and for a moment we lock eyes in a strange staredown, as if we were the only two people in the booth.
Salt’s eyes are unusual. One is black, the other light gray, like smoky quartz, creating an unsettling, distinct contrast. He has long black lashes and beautifully shaped dark brows. His lips are nicely defined too, though right now they curve into a contemptuous smirk.
"Eliano, this is Salt Einarson, a participant in the Second Chance program," Storm begins.
"As I mentioned, I have a certain talent that allows me to sense high compatibility between people," he directs these words to Salt.
"And although Eliano was not attending our event, I brought him here to confirm or disprove my strong suspicion that he is your True Mate. "
Salt’s eyes widen even more, as if he is watching something absurdly comical. He sizes me up again, this time as if he’s carving into me, his pupils sharp as a knife. His laughter only deepens, and in this particular moment I honestly cannot blame him for it.
He crosses his arms over his chest, tilts his head slightly, and taps his foot against the floor.
"Oh, Stormy, you really are desperate to get rid of all four of your contractees during this event! Afraid you won’t get your bonus?"
Storm’s expression turns truly stormy. Something in his eyes darkens, his jaw tightens.
"I would prefer you focus on your own grim situation instead of worrying about my motives. The fact is, I do have a very specific talent, and I am telling you that I strongly believe this man is your fated mate." His tone is hard, unwavering.
"What is he, a rent boy? A paid actor? Way too pretty to be wandering the streets looking for a husband. Where did you dig him up?"
Storm lets out a sharp huff. "Well, I’m glad you at least find him attractive. That’s a start."
But Salt does not let it go.
"Did you pay him, Storm?" He narrows his eyes. When Storm does not answer, Salt snaps, "You’re obviously not competent enough to close my case! You know it damn well, so you’re grasping at straws.
No one is going to buy the contract of a quadruple murderer!
Let the kid go home, or back to sucking off old alphas… "
That is the moment I decide I have had enough. Salt’s behavior reminds me far too much of certain types I dealt with in the mafia, arrogant, crude, and unhinged. This is not going to be a good match.
I turn toward the exit. I am done here.
Storm’s hand grabs me quickly, but this time I refuse to let him influence my decisions.
For all his strength as a purple alpha, he lacks technique, so with a swift move I catch his wrist and shove his hand off my shoulder.
But then comes the disappointment. The exit door is locked.
To leave the booth, you need a key card.
"Let me out," I hiss at the omega. But turning toward Gessler, I inevitably sweep my gaze past Salt, and that is when I see his sensual lips silently form a single word, "Coward."
My jaw tightens.
A sudden rush of something strange overtakes me.
I turn back to him and take a sharp step forward, almost brushing my chest against his.
I dip my head low over the side of his neck, snuffling loudly, breathing in the scent of his long blue strands.
A low growl slips from my throat in AO, a sound he won’t understand anyway. Maybe that’s for the best.
Storm and Gessler understand it perfectly, which is why neither of them moves. They know I’m not about to hurt Salt.
The cop, however, is a beta, which puts him among the blissfully unaware of what AOs communicate between themselves.