Chapter 11 - Shawn
The room feels like the aftermath of a cyclone in Sara’s wake. I can sense so much emotion in her, grief and loss, and underneath it, a river of fear so deep it threatens to burst free and consume her.
What is she so afraid of?
As if in answer to my question, there’s a sharp knock on the door, and I know it’s the old man.
Obviously, she’s scared of him, and she has every right to be. This asshole sold her to me, and it’s obvious he’s been abusing her for years.
“Come in!” I call, and two sets of footsteps shuffle through the door and up the hall. Even though I’m pissed about the intrusion, I know this is a great opportunity to ask more questions. The old man might relax a bit if I get him drunk and full of good food.
So far, he’s fallen for my idiot act, and all I need is for him to slip up once.
“Jackson!” I say in an easy tone. The old man enters the room and smiles, hurrying over to drop a box of goodies on the table and shake my hand.
“Shawn,” he answers. “I’ve got that produce for you, just as you asked. Hope you don’t mind me barging in.”
“Not at all,” I say, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “It’s good to see you. Stick around for a while and have a drink.”
“Happy to,” he answers, reaching for the brandy.
“Hello, Shawn,” Melanie purrs, crossing the room to lean down and press her cheek to mine. “I missed you!”
Even though my stomach lurches in revulsion, I let her kiss my cheek and smile warmly at her.
“Always lovely to see a woman as beautiful as you,” I say.
“Aw,” she splutters. “That’s so nice!”
“I mean every word.”
Melanie sits down as Jackson pours drinks for both of them, and she keeps sliding me looks and little winks.
Jesus. This family is so fucked up.
“So, Jackson,” I say casually. “What’s our first order of business, then? You seem to know what’s what around here.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, boy,” he says, waving a hand. “Everything’s under control.”
Before I can push, Sara enters the room. Her tousled hair and damp eyes almost break my heart.
It’s obvious she’s been crying, and she’s walking in here like we’re a firing squad. I was hoping to get closer to her this evening, not put her through more trauma.
Even though I can see her discomfort, I’m relieved when she decides to cook us dinner and removes herself from the conversation. It doesn’t escape my notice that Melanie makes absolutely no effort to help.
I’d happily help, but I think if a man offers to cook in this town, it means he was gelded at a young age.
“Of course, I’ll defer to you,” I say, keeping my tone light as I draw Jackson back into conversation. “But I need to know what the town needs so I can be a good alpha. You’ll help, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” Jackson says. “My father and I have always been close with the alpha, and no one knows this town better than I do.”
“Are the elder folk okay?” I ask, keeping my voice light. “They got home from the party without incident?”
“They did,” Melanie assures me, patting my arm. “I saw to it personally.”
Her smile and the cold look in her eye imply that she left them in the gutter, but I just smile and nod enthusiastically.
“Will I be able to talk to them soon? I’m very interested in your town’s history.”
“They are often very tired,” Jackson says. “It will be difficult to find a good time. Let me speak to them, and we can organize a meeting for you.”
“You’re too kind,” I reply, taking a sip of my drink. “I appreciate your help. Can you tell me what our main priority for the pack is at this time?”
“To welcome our new alpha and nurture the connection between us and the new packs,” Jackson says with an easy smile.
I let my face pull into a confused frown. “Some of the people at the gathering today looked awfully poor,” I say. “Do we need to run aid programs for them, or help them to improve their living conditions?”
“Of course,” Jackson says. “We need to make sure everyone in the pack is thriving. But I need you to understand, they may not accept our help.”
“Oh?”
“They are incredibly difficult,” Melanie says, her country drawl somewhat worse after a full tumbler of brandy. “We try hard to bring them over to our side, but no, they want to listen to Leah.”
Jackson shoots Melanie a look, and there is a low thump under the table that makes her jump.
Did he just kick her?
“What my wife means is, some of the pack are more traditional. They prefer to live by the old ways. That’s all.”
“But surely they would accept help from you?” I ask. “You’ve been a trusted friend to the alpha for so long.”
“Talon’s death has them spooked,” Jackson says. “It’s confirmation of everything our legends have always told of. They think that because the alpha left and got killed, the holy fire is coming next.”
Something deep inside my mind clicks into place.
“Holy fire?” I ask innocently.
“Yes,” Melanie says brightly. “The great power—”
“That we are all afraid of!” Jackson finishes in an urgent tone, and I hear the thump under the table again.
“Tell me more,” I say, keeping my wide-eyed expression. “This is fascinating.”
“If you’re from Eccles, then surely you know?” Jackson says, turning to me. His pale blue eyes are as cold and hard as chips of ice.
He’s testing me. What do you know, you old bastard?
“I’m not actually from Eccles,” I say. “I came here about a year ago with some friends. Rex is originally from Rose Hollow. He came back to take his place there as alpha. Our friend Brad took over at Eccles when their old alpha died. We haven’t been here that long.”
“How did the old alpha die?” Jackson asks, staring me down.
“I’m not sure,” I answer, holding his gaze.
He knows.
“Here we are,” Sara says, putting a platter down on the table. “Quiche and salad. Just one moment, and I’ll grab the roast and vegetables.”
“Did you make some of those cakes I like?” Melanie snaps, and Sara nods.
“Of course, Melanie. I wouldn’t forget your favorites when you’re a guest in my house.”
For a few moments, nobody speaks as we all get comfortable and load our plates. I can see Melanie is very noticeably not talking, and Jackson glares at her occasionally as if to make sure she stays silent. He gives me sidelong glances, and I know he’s trying to work me out.
“I should tell you, my friends will be back here soon with some supplies for the town,” I say. “We will need to make a warm welcome for them.”
“Oh?” Jackson asks. “The other alphas?”
“Yes, and some trusted people from both packs. They can get the gardens producing well, donate some clothes, and help fix the buildings.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Jackson says, his tone implying the opposite. “We are truly blessed to have your help.”
“Glad to hear it,” I answer. “I know the other packs are interested in knowing how you stayed hidden up here for so long. Is it magic?”
“No,” Jackson scoffs, a bit too quickly. “We don’t know anything about magic.”
I let the silence fall, and everyone turns their focus to the food. Once the atmosphere has relaxed, I drop the bomb.
“It must have been so difficult for you to lose your father,” I say in a gentle tone. “And to know that Talon was responsible.”
Jackson turns to look at me, and his eyes are swimming with confusion. “Yes,” he says. “It was very difficult.”
“Do you know how he died? Were you able to hold a funeral?”
“No,” Jackson says. “He and a few trusted men simply disappeared. Talon acted as if they were dead, though.”
“Tragic,” I mutter, looking back at my food.
The tension in the air has palpably heightened, and I realize I may have shown my hand, but I don’t care.
I want to put the old man on edge. I’ve got a heavy suspicion that his father isn’t dead. This whole situation reeks of a double-double cross.
As I think over the clues and things slip into place, I realize that for my suspicions to be true, Talon had to be a genuinely nice, trusting guy, and it makes me mourn him even more.
He was set up, that’s for certain. How did Jackson arrange it? I know the others will be furious to find out they were manipulated into killing an innocent man! Jackson will hang for this.
Jackson and Melanie finish up their meal quickly, and even though we seem to part on good terms, I can tell he’s being very careful around me now.
The plot is so thick, I’m sure he believes I’ll never figure it out. But he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
As we smile and shake hands, I give Jackson a hearty slap on the shoulder, making him aware of my strength. Shock flashes briefly in his blue eyes before his controlled mask covers it back up again.
That’s right, asshole. I’m tougher than I look. Throw your worst at me, and see what happens.
After I close the door, I almost stagger back to the table and fall into my chair. The act of controlling myself when I want to hurl Jackson up against the wall and shake the truth out of him is completely exhausting.
When I look across at Sara, she’s staring at her plate, absently pushing the food around.
“That was tiring,” I say, trying to make peace with her.
“Why? You guys seem to get along great.”
I examine her closely, wondering if she’s joking. After a moment, I realize that the poor girl has been under Jackson’s heel for so long, she literally doesn’t know the difference between sincerity and manipulation.
That’s great news for me, isn’t it? How am I supposed to convince her I have a genuine interest in her?
“Is that really what you think?”
Sara looks up at me, and from this distance, her eyes are so dark, they look almost black. I can’t see any gold in them at all.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says. “It’s obvious from the way you talk to each other. You’re the same.”
“But Talon was different?”
A soft smile breaks across her face. “Talon was kind. It just radiated out of him, all the time. If he really did kill my grandfather and those other men, he would have had a good reason. I saw him out hunting more than once. He had great power, and he could be brutal, but he was honest to the core. I could just feel it.”
Sara looks down, hiding her gaze from me, and I honestly don’t know if I believe her words.
She could have put Talon on a pedestal, and she’s completely deluded as to what he was really like—or he really was a great guy who got thrown into a meat grinder.
“Okay,” I reply. “So, if I’m just like Jackson, what then? What does that mean for us?”
She looks up at me, and her face is cold and determined. “It means I’ll live here and be your wife. I’ll do all your chores, and have your children, but it is all duty to me, and nothing more.”
“And what if that’s not what I want?” I say, putting all my feelings into my voice. “What if I want your love?”
Her eyes widen and fill with tears. She covers her mouth with one hand and shakes her head.
“You’re not like Father,” she hisses. “He’s a bastard—but you’re cruel!”
“Sara, wait—”
I try to stop her, but she bolts from the room, and I hear a door slam down the hall. A desperate fear rises in me that I might never be able to convince this sweet, beautiful woman that I really want her, and I’ll never use her.
My duty here is becoming more important to me by the day. These people need a strong, fair leader, and Jackson deserves what’s coming to him, but my need for Sara is beginning to consume me…