17. Wyatt
SEVENTEEN
WYATT
As soon as I got to my office, I loosened my tie and turned my chair to face the floor-to-ceiling window behind my desk. How had everything become such a mess? We had infiltrated society and been living amongst humans for the past century, undetected. We had managed to gaslight most of society into thinking that the big lurking figures captured in the woods were hoaxes.
Now, wolves were creeping back into Stirling County, and humans were performing genetic experiments on our own damn land. Was it a coincidence?
I shook my head and turned back to the bustling activities of Grandview. There was no way it could be a coincidence.
The intercom clicked and my secretary’s voice came through the speaker.
“Sandy, get me everything you can about the Carders.”
“Yes, Boss.” Sandy clicked off and I watched as she sprang into action, placing calls and typing furiously on her computer.
My satellite phone sat in the bottom drawer of my desk. I pressed the button for the automatic blinds, and the early morning daylight and lights from the surrounding offices effectively disappeared, turning my office into a cave-like room.
I punched in the numbers to a phone that I’d promised I wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Human experimentation on our land definitely qualified.
“Come on, Jax.” I tapped my toe on the polished concrete floor.
No answer.
He’d only been gone a couple of days. Maybe I’d caught him on one of his flights. Atticus and Tank were now my closest confidants, but it wasn’t the same without Jax.
“Damn you, Jax.” I disconnected the call and muttered under my breath. He’d run off to fucking find himself. It was something that one of the Instagram models I used to fuck would’ve said, not a full-grown sasquatch.
As much as I was pissed at him for leaving, I understood. I’d found my mate. Jax was ready to settle down, and needed to find his match. Was she Siberian? It was as good a place as any to start looking. The Yeti community rarely communicated with us, and unlike the South Americans, kept to themselves.
The South Americans.
They’d flown back to Brazil after our battle with the wolves. Should I ask them to return?
I pressed the palms of my hands to my eye sockets, resting my elbows on my knees. Decisions came to me easily. Why was I wavering? I needed Jax here to help me make the right one. I called the number to his phone one more time, but like the last time, it just kept ringing.
Valentina had erased Harper’s memory, but they’d come to help us when we’d needed them. I couldn’t forgive her for what she’d done to Harper, but fuck, we needed them.
My cell rang and I saw that I had a few missed texts from Harper. Before I picked up the call from Atticus, I scrolled through the photos of Harper in various ball gowns. She looked hot in all of them, but in the one with the flowers, she looked absolutely regal. I made a mental note to reply to her as soon as I got off the phone.
“Atticus, what’s up?”
“I’m not sure if I can talk on this line.” Atticus kept his voice low. “The wounded bird has been caged.”
It was code for the hybrid, who was now locked up in a secret room in the east wing. Earlier that morning, the man, Jim, had again confirmed our theory that Genocorp was performing experiments on humans. All he knew was that they’d injected him with a substance, then hooked him up to various IVs. He’d grown stronger and they’d measured his performance in a gym, but he’d also lost his ability to communicate. He’d described it as feeling like being intoxicated, unable to think straight. But it didn’t last for long. They had to keep him hooked up to an IV, or he’d get incredibly weak.
Jim told us he’d escaped when a huge, hairy man in flannel had broken into the lab and set him free. The man had gotten spooked when the alarms went off, so Jim had followed him into the woods until he’d lost the man’s trail. And found our trap.
“Is the bird in good condition?” I asked.
“Yes, Boss. The bird is well-hydrated and complacent. No signs of aggression. Tim will keep running tests and monitoring him.”
“That’s good.” At least one thing was going well.
A horn honked in the background and the phone clicked over to the speaker in Atticus’s car. “Are you on your way here?”
“Yes, as planned.”
“Good. We have some big decisions to make.”
While I waited for Atticus to arrive, I swiped back through the photos that Harper had sent me. I hearted the photo of the dress with the flowers. “You’re radiant, my love. I can’t wait to see you in this dress. And rip it off you afterward.”
I didn’t want to tell her about the man who had helped Jim escape. I was ninety percent certain that the man who had freed Jim was Harper’s father, but what was his connection to all of this? If what Jim said was correct, the experiments on the hikers had made them supernatural, but the changes hadn’t lasted.
Harper’s father was more sasquatch – more like us, than human. And my gut told me he’d been that way for a long time. Was he an experiment gone wrong? Is that why he’d abandoned Harper? And what was the Carder connection?
I needed answers, and I needed them fast.