26. Ollie
Ollie stared out the windshield at the sprawling campus just beyond. The air inside the SUV was nice and toasty, but he could almost feel the bite of the autumn air outside. October was usually pretty balmy during the day, but the early morning rain had caused the temperature to plummet into the low fifties.
The storm had stopped before dawn, but the occasional misty rain had left the ground outside wet and the sky overhead was still dark and ominous. Red and yellow leaves stuck to the pavement and the windows of the campus’s stately red brick buildings. Ollie watched as a gust of wind caught a few of the leaves in their current, swirling them around before redepositing them farther away in the muddy grass.
Despite the weather—or maybe because of it—students still congregated outside. They huddled together as they walked, shoulders hunched, hands clenched around hot beverages, with the exception of the few rebels still clinging to their iced coffees.
Some of the kids dressed like they’d waited for this weather all year with their knee-high boots, oversized sweaters, and scarves. Others dressed like they’d been blindsided, wearing sweatpants and puffy coats that didn’t match, their expressions disgruntled. The third faction dressed like they’d forgotten they had class at all. They wore pajamas and hoodies with the hoods shrouding their faces, feet stuffed in fuzzy UGG boots or wellies.
Everyone looked so innocent. So carefree. Sure, it was just an illusion but Ollie’s nerves were whispering that this was a huge mistake. All of San’s questions echoed in his head. What if Shane realized Ollie was pregnant? What if he figured out that a real enigma existed? What if he somehow worked with some secret shadow organization that really did want to steal Ollie’s baby?
He shook the thought away.
Shane had no idea who he was. He had no idea who Deke was. He didn’t know that Ollie carried a special baby or that Ollie was pregnant at all. There was absolutely no reason for Shane to connect Ollie to a real life enigma. As far as Shane was concerned, the enigma was just a myth. One he’d studied years ago.
Saint sat beside him, sipping a black coffee, taking in his surroundings with a scowl he probably didn’t know he wore. He was taking his job as Ollie’s bodyguard quite seriously. San had wanted to come, but given his sudden rut, they’d thought it best he remain on lockdown at the compound.
Binnie believed he was still in pre-rut but thought it best to keep both of them isolated from the other alphas. Fen and Seth were home but situated in the other wing of the house lest San throw them into heat. It wasn’t that anyone would be upset about the whole house having a sexual free-for-all, but they needed to get some actual work done and that was hard to do if everyone was in the middle of a hormone-induced orgy.
Deke seemed unaffected for the moment, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t inadvertently influence the others. Since they still didn’t know what caused Deke’s…abilities, it was best to keep him away from anyone who was susceptible to his super-alpha pheromones.
Ollie looked down at his phone. Deke would likely be sitting down with Bas any moment. He was trying not to think about it. About any of it. What did Bas really know? Did he know anything? Was Deke in danger around his brother? Had Dutch really known anything about Deke or had he simply been running his mouth again?
Ollie hadn’t said it last night, but San was right. It would be an awfully big coincidence for Dutch to say the things he’d said if he knew nothing about Deke’s super-alpha status. But maybe he’d only hoped Deke would be an enigma. Maybe he’d somehow known of the mythology and was just playing the law of averages. Unfortunately—or fortunately to some—he was too dead to ask.
“You ready?” Saint’s coffee cup settled into the SUV’s drink holder with a hollow thud that let Ollie know it was empty. “You ready?”
“No,” Ollie admitted around a sigh. “But let’s do this anyway. I know you want to get home to assist in San breeding your adorable little omega.”
Saint snorted, but didn’t deny Ollie’s accusation. Instead, he said, “Don’t act like you didn’t also write your name on that sign-up sheet. Beta Ollie was a sexual snooze-fest but omega Ollie—especially pregnant omega Ollie—is a total slut.”
Ollie gave him the finger but there was no heat to it. Saint wasn’t wrong. Ollie didn’t know if it was his pregnancy hormones or his omega hormones or a combination of both, but he was horny pretty much around the clock. Unfortunately, he was often too tired to act on it. Luckily for him, Deke seemed content to let Ollie act like a pillow princess and let him do all the work.
Most nights, they just laid in bed, Deke playing big spoon, his hand splayed protectively over Ollie’s belly while he mouthed at his mating mark. It was getting so that Ollie couldn’t sleep without Deke’s teeth against his throat.
He was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize Saint was holding his door open for him until the alpha cleared his throat.
Ollie gave him a hard side-eye. “What? I can’t open my own door because I’m an omega now?”
Saint pulled a face at him. “No, you can’t open your own door because you’re carrying one of our pack pups. Now, shut up and let me be nice to you. Seth will lose his shit if I don’t coddle you a little.”
Ollie rolled his eyes as he slid from the seat. The omega had Saint absolutely whipped. If Ollie hadn’t watched the whole thing happen, he wouldn’t have believed it. Saint had always been the most reserved, the most standoffish. He’d been a good friend during their time at Cerberus, and Ollie had put his life in Saint’s hands dozens of times, but there was no doubt he’d maintained a distance between himself and the rest of them back then.
Now that he had Seth, he was an entirely different person. Well, not entirely. He still hated loud noises, still lost it when people touched or moved his things without permission. But, feelings-wise, it was clear he’d made a decision to let the others in and Ollie had no doubt that was all Seth.
Ollie watched Saint as they walked, the alpha scanning the area for potential threats. “Where do we find this guy?”
“In the Social Sciences building,” Ollie said, pointing in the direction of a large red brick building with white columns and a pitched roof. “According to the school’s website, he has office hours from one to four p.m.”
Saint nodded. “I’m assuming he’s not expecting us?”
“I thought about sending him an email, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to give him a heads up about our arrival.”
Saint nodded but said nothing more. Leaves crunched wetly beneath Ollie’s hiking boots on the pavement. Like the others, he hunched in on himself, hands shoved in the pocket of his brown suede jacket. He blended in fairly well in a campus setting. His cuffed dark denim jeans, olive green cashmere sweater, and dark-framed glasses made him look like just another grad student or teacher’s assistant.
The same couldn’t be said for Saint.
He stuck out like black ink spilled on snow white paper. He was four inches taller than Ollie. He wore his usual black cargo pants and henley combo along with his heavy black combat boots. His hair was long enough to pass his collar and windswept enough to make him look menacing. Add to that the scars on his cheek and his appearance was… formidable.
Most students gave him a wide berth, but some—mostly omegas—shot him smoldering glances and bold smiles, giving off chemo signals that had Ollie choking on air. Saint ignored it all, cutting a path through the students like a ship breaking through icy waters.
The man was oblivious to anyone who wasn’t Seth. Ollie bit back a smile at the disappointed looks each time Saint failed to notice one of his admirers. Seth would never believe the chokehold he had over the alpha, but it was obvious to anyone else, even those who didn’t know Seth existed.
The moment they made it inside the building, Ollie sighed, engulfed by a lovely warmth, which helped to chase away the chill in his bones. There were people hovering just inside the doorway, their quiet voices echoing as they bounced off the domed ceiling above. The directory on the wall showed Professor Shane’s office was right there on the first floor, office 306.
There was a frosted panel in each door, the professor’s name etched into the glass, their office number just beneath it in blocky black numbers. Dr. Shane’s door was wide open.
Inside, a pretty girl with fair skin, chubby pink cheeks, and chestnut hair piled onto her head sat at a scarred wooden desk, typing on an ancient-looking laptop. She appeared to be in her twenties and wore a worn purple sweatshirt with a sorority insignia emblazoned across it in white. A pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses sat atop a stack of papers beside the laptop, along with a black water bottle and an ivory to-go cup covered with dried coffee drips. The office smelled like buttered toffee.
No, she smelled like buttered toffee.
Books of various shapes and sizes were stacked around her, on the floor, in cardboard boxes, in a large open steamer trunk. There were even a few strewn around the built-in bookcases aligning the three walls. They were clearly in the midst of packing or unpacking. Ollie suspected the former. Something about that made him uneasy.
She didn’t look up until Ollie tapped a knuckle against the frosted pane of glass on the open door. The girl jumped at the sound, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her skin going from pink to crimson the moment she laid eyes on Saint. A cloud of omega pheromones hit Ollie like a heavy, wet blanket, almost knocking him backwards.
As usual, Saint didn’t appear to notice.
“Can I help you?” she asked Saint specifically.
Ollie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “We were hoping to talk to Professor Shane.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, frowning, looking down at what Ollie could only assume was the professor’s schedule for the afternoon.
“No. This was sort of a last minute trip. I was hoping he might be able to squeeze us in for just a few minutes.”
She frowned deeper, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing as she studied them warily.
“He has meetings all afternoon,” she finally said, her smile apologetic but still aimed at Saint.
When Saint proceeded to just stare straight ahead, Ollie elbowed him in the ribs, earning him a confused grunt. He subtly nodded his head towards the girl, making eyes at Saint, hoping he would understand what he wanted from him.
Finally, Saint gave him an irritated sigh but turned his pained smile towards the girl. “Could you maybe just ask?”
“You’re—You’re not students, right?” she asked. “I’m sure I’d remember you in one of his graduate classes.”
Saint shook his head. “No, we’re not students. My friend here is a writer. He’s working on a book and stumbled upon some old research of Dr. Shane’s.”
Her eyes lit up at that. “Oh, a writer? What kind of writer? What do you write about?” she asked, finally giving Ollie a bit of her focus.
Ollie shrugged. “I write boring non-fiction books about mythology and secondary gender.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding slowly. “That makes sense. That’s Dr. Shane’s specialty.”
That’s why we’re here.
“Yeah,” Ollie said unhelpfully. “Exactly.”
Finally, she pushed a button on the clunky black phone on her desk.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Shane, there are two men here asking if you might have time to answer some questions for them? They don’t have an appointment but your next student meeting isn’t until two.”
There was no response but, a moment later, the door beside her desk opened and a man stepped out, looking over the two of them with curiosity. He wore jeans and a checkered long-sleeve button down with a black puffy tech vest over it. He had dark hair that was high and tight on the sides but curly on top and a well-groomed beard. He looked more like a guy who studied literature and was in charge of the hiking club than a man who was interested in social sciences.
“Hi, I’m Professor Everett Shane,” he said. “Kimber, just hold my calls until we’re done.”
“Sure,” she said, still gazing dreamily at Saint.
To Ollie and Saint, the man said, “Come on in.”
Saint gestured for Ollie to go first. They both nodded at the girl as they passed her but she didn’t notice. She’d already returned to her typing. Dr. Shane stood by the door as they passed through it. Ollie’s system flooded with relief when he realized the man was a beta. No special hearing, no extra olfactory senses. He wouldn’t be able to smell or hear that Ollie was pregnant.
“And you are?” Shane asked.
“I’m Oliver Sullivan,” Ollie said. “And this is my friend Joaquin. We just call him Saint.”
“Ah,” Shane said. “Nice to meet you.”
Once inside the office, it was clear they were in the process of moving out. Books, papers, and huge three-ring binders sat inside more cardboard boxes as well as file boxes and plastic crates stacked on a handcart.
“Going somewhere?” Saint asked as the professor moved stacks of books from the two well-worn leather chairs that sat across from his desk.
“My office is moving across campus,” he said vaguely as they sat.
His tone implied he wasn’t necessarily happy about this news.
Saint and Ollie exchanged quick glances while Shane walked to his office chair and settled into it.
“Oh,” Ollie asked. “Is this no longer going to be the Social Sciences building?”
Shane heaved a sigh. “No, it is. Unfortunately, the board no longer sees my work as social sciences but humanities.”
Ollie tried not to frown. It was interesting. Mythology often fell under the umbrella of one or the other. It wasn’t shocking that the university thought mythology belonged under humanities, but it was odd given that the mythology in question was tied to the very real issue of secondary gender studies, something that was firmly in the Social Sciences field.
“Didn’t you write your thesis on the mythology behind secondary gender, though?” Ollie asked. “It seems social sciences is where you belong, no?”
Shane nodded, suddenly looking much older than a moment ago. “The university is making a statement. They are reminding me that my research is supposed to be labeled as fiction, not fact.”
“They’re punishing you,” Ollie said.
Shane gave a noise that might have been a humorless laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”
Ollie frowned. “But…why?”
“Because I refuse to move on,” Shane said.
“From…” Saint prompted.
Shane hesitated. “It’s a long story. I’m sure you didn’t come here to listen to me bitch about university politics. How can I help you?”
Ollie forced his voice into a casual tone. “I’ve been doing some research for a non-fiction book I’m writing and came upon some notes of yours at your old university. Notes for an advanced course you were teaching at the time.”
Shane shifted in his seat, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. “Oh? I wasn’t aware any of my research had survived the great purge,” he said. It was clear he was trying to sound equally calm, but there was an underlying tension to his words. “Do you have the notes with you?”
Ollie nodded. “I took a screenshot. I can airdrop it to you if you like?”
Shane flinched. “How—How about I just look at it on your phone?”
“Oh, uh…sure.”
Ollie unlocked his phone and pulled up the image, then handed the device across the desk to Shane. As he read, his shoulders stiffened. “Are these my notes?” he asked, giving a disingenuous laugh.
“Yes,” Ollie said. “It’s the only page I could find. I was wondering if you have any further information or perhaps the rest of these notes archived somewhere?”
Shane huffed out a breath through his nose, his words dull. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh,” Ollie said, unable to hide his own disappointment. “I don’t suppose you remember anything more about this mythological super-alpha?”
Shane’s gaze snapped to Ollie’s at the words “super-alpha,” almost like he was contemplating telling him to keep his voice down. Instead, he stayed silent.
“Dr. Shane?” Ollie prompted.
Shane stared Ollie down, his expression hostile and suspicious. “It was just a small reference in a notebook I came across. It was nothing, really.”
He was lying. That much was obvious. But Ollie didn’t know why. Was it a coincidence? Was Shane’s “punishment” by the university related to Dutch’s death or Bas and Win’s sudden interest in reconnecting with Deke? Was Ollie just one of those paranoid conspiracy freaks now? He had to keep pushing.
He leaned forward. “But you referenced other studies. You made it sound like there were other materials, but I can’t find any reference to this enigma anywhere else. It’s like someone managed to scrub the whole internet.”
Shane’s shrewd gaze caught Ollie’s, his expression and words at odds with each other. “That’s absurd. Do you know the type of time and power it would take to completely scrub the internet of something like that?”
Ollie’s pulse throbbed in his temple.
Saint sat forward. “Yes, Dr. Shane. We do,” he said. “We know exactly the kind of people who have the time and power to erase something like that. That’s why we’ve come to find you. We need your help filling in the blanks.”
Shane stared at the two of them for a long moment. “Whatever you’ve come here to find, it’s long gone. And I suggest you stop looking for it. For your own safety. It’s not worth your lives.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong,” Ollie said. “I have a vested interest in finding out everything I can about the enigma. I’m not gonna stop looking. I can’t. Even if you won’t help me.”
Shane gave him an imploring look, putting a hand over his lips, then pushed his hand down like he was begging them to keep their voices down. “No book is worth your lives,” he said, voice a low murmur. “If you’re smart, you’ll forget you ever heard the word enigma. No matter how famous you think this will make you, I promise, you’re wrong,” he said again.
“This isn’t about fame,” Ollie said carefully. He looked to Saint, who gave the barest hint of a nod. To Shane, he admitted, “There is no book. This is about something much bigger.”
Shane’s paranoia was feeding Ollie’s. The man’s agitation grew with every word. He was restless, eyes darting about the corners of the room. He was worried someone was listening in on their conversation. But who? Why?
“If you just tell us what you know, we’ll leave and never come back. We’ll never tell anyone where we got the information,” Saint assured him.
“But even if you’re telling the truth, it doesn’t matter. They always know. Somehow. They always find out. They have people everywhere. Eyes and ears everywhere.”
That chasm in Ollie’s belly grew, leaving him feeling exposed. When Ollie gave Saint another look, Shane must have thought they were making judgments about his mental health.
“You think I don’t know that I sound crazy?” he asked in a hissing whisper. “You think I don’t cringe hearing myself talk about this shit like it’s all a huge government conspiracy? Because I do. But—news flash—sometimes, the government really is conspiring against you. And not just the government. People with more power and influence than the government.”
“People like Alexander Hearst?” Saint asked casually.
“Or Peter Dresden?” Ollie added, keeping his voice down.
Shane physically recoiled, launching himself back in his chair. “Did they send you?”
“So, they are involved in this?” Saint countered quietly.
Shane glanced back and forth between the two of them, perspiration dotting his forehead and upper lip. “Are you two fucking with me right now?”
Ollie’s chest tightened. “No. Not at all. But we need to know whatever you know. It’s a matter of life and death. Literally.”
Shane closed his eyes, his chest heaving. After a long moment, he opened his eyes, shaking his head helplessly. “Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you what I know. But not here. Let’s go for a walk.”