42. Maia
42
MAIA
“ H enry,” the three identical men say. Their voices are in sync, the word a quiet but deep growl.
My heart drops, and it takes me a second to remember where that name fits into the picture. Henry. Henry Wolfe. Henry Grey.
“Ryan’s dad told you to kill him?” I ask, far more hesitant than they were in asking. The weight of my daughter on my chest feels monumental in this instance, and I’m torn between racing out of here and bursting into tears.
What on Earth is going on with this family? It’s bad enough that aunt and uncles were plotting to kill their nephew, but to know Ryan’s dad was in on it, too—was the catalyst of it?
From everything that’s been shared so far, I can’t understand why Henry would reach out to his brothers, or even more, why they would listen. How is this the norm for these people?
We’ve sat here, and all they’re doing is defending their actions… they’ve not shown remorse or guilt for trying to kill their nephew. She mentioned that she went to an event two years ago to contract his killer, but Ryan founded Fresh Fur Creations six years ago. Sure, I didn’t manage to help him get the funding from Howling Hope until he was in his final year of uni, but that’s still a good two years of a fully functioning company before she admits to trying to kill him seriously .
How long have the death threats been happening? How long have people been trying to hurt my fiancé?
It physically hurts to find out that he’s spent so long being targeted, harmed, attacked , and because he couldn’t tell me what he was, because he couldn’t share the horrific details of his past… he couldn’t share this burden with me.
I couldn’t help the first love of my life with the horrors he suffered.
But I’m determined to get justice for him.
“What Ryan was doing, what his company is behind, it’s not a good thing for any of the wolf-kind,” Edward says, leaning across the table to give me a soft smile. It doesn’t soothe me the way he seems to think it will. He seems to think that by dumbing it down and patronising me over my lack of understanding that he’s helping .
Instead, it just makes me feel that much worse. They’ve decided an action Ryan is doing is worthy of death. I’m not sure I can agree.
They’re acting like they’re the jury and the executioner. Like they have the right to just murder my fiancé. But nobody has the right to take another’s life, not in this way.
That might be my ignorance, maybe in their laws they do, but that doesn’t make it any better. We outlawed the death penalty because it’s an inhumane thing to do.
Killing Ryan, killing their nephew , it makes me sick.
I understand the negatives this scent adjuster thing could do. I’ve seen it firsthand with the way Ethan has been managing to get onto pack lands and disguise his scent. It’s scary, and dangerous, and well… it’s no wonder they’re feeling a little murderous.
The damage it could cause to packs, the things rogues could do with it… it’s terrifying. Imagining the way fifty or one hu ndred people could use it, blend in and launch an attack or invade somewhere.
But with that said, I can imagine that the vast majority of people using this scent neutraliser wouldn’t be doing it to kill people or to take over packs. They wouldn’t be doing it to harm others.
There’s so much good that could come out of it, and I have not a single speck of doubt in my entire soul that Ryan’s decision to create this wasn’t one of malice.
He wasn’t dragged down by hate or revenge. He had a purpose, but it wasn’t to harm.
I know him. I knew him.
He was a good man.
“We talked about the negatives,” I say, leaning back in my chair. Seb breathes my scent in, and I give him a gentle smile, knowing that he’s struggling. “But what about the positives that come from this? With no scent to identify, Phoebe would never be found by those who want to take her. I wouldn’t be at risk of losing her because they couldn’t confirm her scent. People could be safe when travelling from pack to pack.
“Children wouldn’t need to rely on their scent for safety—they’d be hidden from anyone who sought to hurt them. People could hide what didn’t need to be shared for their own protection. These scent neutralisers would allow people to blend and ensure safety.”
George laughs bitterly. “You think this drug of theirs is going to stop my brother from taking your pup? They know about her now, girl, and they’re going to want her no matter what she smells like.”
Girl? I’m not wasting my breath arguing with a man like him. Let him insult me, let them patronise me, because at the end of the day, they’ve lost their pack, they’ve lost their sons, and hopefully, they’ll lose the control they’ve got over their daughters, too .
I don’t need them to sit here and like me. They’re toxic, dangerous, and unhinged.
Words that are never used to describe people who are safe to be around an infant.
“Well, if you’re good enough friends with these people to plot to kill their son, surely, you can just tell them to back off and leave us alone?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, as I use the sweetest tone I can muster.
“I like your spirit, Maia,” Charles says. He sits back and rubs his face, sighing. “But, unfortunately, we’re not friends . We’re barely even allies. Our words carry no weight with my brother.”
Barely even allies is enough to prompt these people into organising an assassination of their nephew. It’s good to know how loose their morals are.
Bile rises, the acidity burning both my stomach and my throat. I hate how much this situation affects me, when they don’t even seem to care. It’s almost as if the bigger inconvenience is having to waste their precious time explaining to me what they’ve done over the damage they’ve caused.
Whilst they weren’t successful, they tried enough times that Ryan would’ve been looking over his shoulder to keep himself safe. That he’d have been working so much harder to look out for me without alarming me.
My fiancé was so confident he’d survive that he could have a life where someone loves him and depends on him. He was always so upbeat and kind and thoughtful .
And all the while, he was avoiding attempt after attempt as his so-called family tried to kill him.
I see the dark edge to Julie’s face, the anger in George’s hazel eyes, the blatant self-assurance radiating from Charles. There’s a sad aura surrounding Edward, sure, but even he doesn’t show any kind of remorse for his part in this whole assassination.
They don’t care .
These people would’ve been my family through my marriage to Ryan, and even still, they’d be Phoebe’s family. They share blood with her, but I have no doubt that if she didn’t suit their goals, they’d wipe her out, too.
I understand why Ryan left his pack, why he ran, and would never open up about it. If his parents are anything like these four—and it’s already been shown that at the very least, Henry is—then I’m surprised he turned out as lovely and kind as he did.
When these people are nothing short of monsters . They’ve got dark hearts and a soul to match, and it kills me to know this is what he had to endure.
The quadruplets have some of their parent’s darkness. I’ve seen it—heard it in their words and how they react to situations. They’re intense and dominant, and I have no doubt they skirt the edge of the law—likely both human and wolf—to achieve their goals.
But they’re not evil . Not that I suppose I can claim Julie and her mates are, either. I don’t really know them, even if the little bits that I keep uncovering are terrible and toxic traits.
My mates, though, they’re not their parents. They’re good men. The quadruplets love hard, and their intensity can be scary because their love is possessive and all-encompassing. They’re obsessive, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that they’re good .
I loved Ryan, I still do, but even he never showed me this level of dedication and love. It’s like they can’t function without me, like my sadness is theirs, like my problems exist only for them to solve.
They’re not bad men. Not to me.
But how they emerged from this den of vipers and became the strong, protective wolves, I’ll never know.
“He came to us as alphas ,” Edward says, and I forget I even asked them a question, it’s taken them this long to come up with their answer. “Not as his brothers. Once he told us about everything, well, we couldn’t deny him, not after… not after what Ryan did to Morgan, either,” Edward says quietly. He doesn’t have the gall to look me in the eyes as he admits this last part.
Because, oh, yes , I have some very strong feelings. The sixteen-year-old child is the one responsible for the death of Morgan, an adult who was failed by her family.
Surely, it’s not the adults in her life or the huge pack that was meant to protect her, it was her brother— brothers— a mere child.
It’s so easy to blame Ryan and Ethan, so easy to throw them to the wolves and let them be the spearhead of any revenge plots. Why should they take accountability for failing to protect her? Why should they admit that the biggest fault lies with them for putting their daughter in the position where she needed to run away?
Because, of course, the fact that the adults in her life are trying to mate her off to an old man isn’t the problem. It’s the sixteen-year-old twin boys who should’ve protected her.
There’s something wrong with these people.
“Are you saying that Henry thinks Ryan was the one to kill Morgan?” Topher asks dryly. I can’t get a read on Topher, not properly, even with the bond. He’s mostly blank, his anger and annoyance covering up anything less intense.
But I don’t think he believes what his father’s are telling him.
“Yes,” George says.
Ryan is the most loving man I’ve ever met. He was kind and sweet, and I refuse to believe he killed a woman—killed his sister .
Not on purpose.
And any accidental death is not his to be blamed for. He, and even my guys, were children . They’re not to blame for this.
“There’s too much evidence to ignore,” Edward continues. His voice shakes slightly, an edge of unease to it .
“Did he apologise for blaming our pack then, since he’s found the culprit?” Ben asks, his words smarmy and full of the same mocking that he feels.
“Not in so many words,” Charles says, shaking his head.
“But we’re sure Ryan had a hand in her death, and that’s enough for us,” George says. “This wasn’t about reconnecting with them but about avenging Morgan and fixing a very big problem.”
Is there any evidence of Ryan’s supposed murder? They’re so quick to admit to theirs, so where’s the proof of Ryan’s?
“There’s not enough female wolves being born,” Charles explains to me, once again using the patronising tone like I’m stupid. “Losing one in a vicious attack was a horrendous loss for our family.”
Fury rages inside me, but I don’t bother saying something to attempt to change their minds. They’re unhappy at losing a female wolf-born Wolfe . Not at losing family members, but at the value Morgan carried for being a woman.
These are people who tried to kill Ryan rather than calling the police or whatever sort of law enforcement they have. They decided to handle it themselves.
They think so highly of themselves that it actually makes me sick to be in their presence, breathing in the same air as them, as we sit in their house. And, even worse, is the fact that my daughter— my wolf-born daughter— is here with us.
She’s sitting amongst the people that tried to kill her dad. Sure, they weren’t successful, but that doesn’t mean that Henry didn’t have other plans in the pipelines. For all I know, he was the one to organise the successful hit on Ryan.
I wanted to know the truth. I wanted answers on how my fiancé died. I wanted to know everything they did, and then make sure that I got justice.
But they didn’t actually kill him, and I’m not sure what to do from here. My mates will, and I trust that they’ll handle it.
In the meantime, Julie and her mates have information me and the guys could use, information that could help figure things out about Ryan and help us keep custody of our daughter. This is all I want from them.
Seb places his hand on my thigh and squeezes gently. He’s so focused right now, his green eyes locked on Phoebe, but every time his nostrils flare, I know he’s categorising the scents in the room.
He’s keeping track in the way he can . I can imagine he has some strong feelings on the scent neutraliser, and I’m curious as to what they are.
But we won’t air that here in front of their parents.
“Nobody argues that it was a terrible loss,” Alex says. “But what evidence do you have that he was involved?”
“Do you remember the foundation Howling Hope? Morgan was working with them as one of their volunteers, remember?” George asks.
My blood runs cold, and I hope that nobody on their side notices the change in my behaviour. She worked at my mother’s company?
Fate truly is a tricky bitch.
I look over at Alex, who doesn’t even react, but he told me how they donate regularly to my mum’s charity. Was that because of Morgan’s involvement?
Why didn’t they mention Morgan’s involvement? Well, what difference would it make?
“Not really,” Topher says, shaking his head. His feelings are unclear, but he seems to be telling the truth. “I don’t keep track of what she used to be involved in. She did a lot of community work, and it was a decade ago that she passed away.”
“Barely,” Julie hisses, and I flinch at her tone.
Morgan died a decade ago, around the same time that Ryan left home, and it’s obvious the two events are related. She would’ve only been twenty when she lost her life. I blink back the tears and avoid looking at any of the people opposite me on the table .
The timings are murky, but from what they’ve admitted, they plotted to kill their nephew when he was barely a year older than their niece was when she died.
What on Earth is wrong with these people? They’re out here attacking people who are barely past being children.
My heart physically hurts at the level of disregard for life, but even more so, the fact that it’s Ryan’s life that they targeted. The man who would fill up hot water bottles every single day of my period, who would make sure my fridge was always stocked with my favourite snacks, every night during exam weeks, the man who would walk women to their homes late at night so they’d be safe.
The man they wanted to kill was not the child they knew, and I don’t understand how nobody can see that.
“She did do a lot of charity work,” Julie says softly, and the fast change in her personality is startling. Her lips are down-turned, her shoulders hunched in, but her eyes don’t portray the same level of sadness. “She was the best of that family. Strong, kind, and beautiful. She would’ve had some truly powerful baby wolves, if her life wasn’t viciously snatched away.”
I eye Seb, but he’s not looking my way, and nobody else really reacts to her words and the problematic tone of them. I wrap my arms around Phoebe in the carrier, breathing in the soft new baby smell, and I purse my lips together.
I’m not sure if Julie is thinking about the words she’s saying right now, before she says them or if she’s just speaking whatever comes to her in her distraught state… but she’s not coming across very well right now.
They’re acting as if Morgan’s only worth was the fact that she was a female wolf. They only seem to care that she’s got potential as a woman to continue the line.
I know that they’re all concerned about the lack of female-born wolves, about them losing their power, and about the survival of their species. I understand their concerns, even if they’re not my own.
But that doesn’t mean their behaviour is acceptable. It doesn’t mean that female-born wolves are just meant to be breeders.
“So what does Howling Hope have to do with any of this?” Alex asks, and even though his tone sounds bored, his feelings display the complete opposite. He’s nervous and intrigued and is trying to hide it from his parents.
There’s no way he forgot our conversation about my parents. No way he forgot the connection that I have to Howling Hope. Yet, his tone sounds so disinterested, his face showing nothing but boredom.
He’d be a good poker player.
Topher is as tense as he has been for this entire conversation but just as unbothered by the current topic as Alex sounds. He’s less intrigued.
In comparison, Ben is very curious about what is being shared. He’s writing something down on a piece of paper, as he has been for most of this conversation. He’s taking notes and keeping track of what’s been said.
“A large portion of the startup costs for Fresh Fur Creations were invested by Howling Hope, and they share numerous stock holders. They still partner together on quite a few projects, as shared in the media and in our world, and Fresh Fur Creations donate numerous free products to Howling Hope every year for their own use,” Edward explains.
My heart drops, and I can feel Alexander’s eyes dart my way. I was the one to facilitate the funding, as I’m sure he’s guessed. Ryan had amazing ideas, and I knew that he could do so much good if he just had the funds. My main trust fund wouldn’t be released until I was twenty-one, and I didn’t want to pull out of the family businesses, but I was the one to facilitate the meetings and to organise for Howling Hope to help him .
He needed it, and thanks to their support, he thrived.
Ryan had nobody. Barely any friends, no family, no support system. He was a consistent First student across the board, never failing an exam or not giving his studies his all.
He was dedicated and smart. Sure, at the time, he never told me the full truth of what he was doing… but even now, I can’t tell if it’s truly such a bad thing.
Just because bad people could take advantage of these scent neutralisers, it doesn’t outweigh all of the good that can be done. So many good and endangered people could benefit from them, too. The tool itself isn’t bad, it’s how people use it.
Ryan’s ideas were beyond my understanding, even now, but the passion he had, the vision… I knew it was something that my mum would’ve been interested in. Something she would’ve supported.
Her foundation focused on endangered animals, and Ryan’s research, his vision… it could’ve really, really helped them, too.
So, of course, I organised it. I don’t regret it. Not even now.
I’m annoyed with his family. Outraged at their behaviour. Dismayed that they couldn’t see the brilliance in him. I’m disgusted that he’s lost his life due to his brilliance.
The work he’s done, one day, could’ve helped my daughter, and I hate that he’s been penalised for that.
“Okay, thanks. That gives me something to go on,” Ben says. Alex and Topher glance at each other before gazing at Julie, but their eyes are bright silver and gold, respectively, and I know what that means.
Their wolves are out to play. I just don’t understand why.
“How did Henry find out about the company in the first place?” Ben asks, not looking at anyone as he makes some scribbles on his paper.
The three men exchange looks, but it’s Julie who speaks.
“He claims that he was fed bits and pieces from Ethan, who, as we know, is his only son remaining at the pack,” Julie says, rolling her eyes. “He might be one of the weakest of her lot, but at least he’s not a murderer or a traitor.”
“Ryan was neither of those things,” I snarl as my composure finally breaks. I rise to my feet, looking around the table at each of them, letting the full weight of my disgust show. “What happened to Morgan was terrible, and I’m so, so sorry for your loss. But the four of you were planning on creating a loss like that for me .
“You planned on killing the first love of my life, and that is something I can never move past. I’ll be fighting your brother in court, and believe me, the pair of them will not be getting their hands on Phoebe.
“And honestly, neither will any of you.” I look down at my beautiful little girl, whose bright grey eyes slowly open. She peers up at me, and rather than crying, she just looks. “She’s a special girl, and not just because she’s one of your rare female-born wolves. She’s special just because she exists, and none of you seem to care about that.”
Ben slowly claps as everyone looks at me in shock. There’s a smirk on Seb’s face, his hazel and green eyes lighting up in amusement, but I’m too scared to look at Alex and Topher, or I’ll burst into tears.
Their pride radiates through our bond, though, and that’s all that matters.
Julie jumps to her feet, and I can practically feel the fury radiating off of her. Her face is red, her eyes narrowed into slits, and I truly get the feeling that if I wasn’t holding Phoebe—or more likely, if there wasn’t a table in between us—that she’d have attempted to put hands on me.
“You are a fool,” Julie says, scoffing. “You were given the biggest boon you could ever receive by birthing someone of her calibre. You could get pregnant again and again and help give our pack the standing it deserves. You’re the most selfish and self-centred woman. I regret even trying to drive you closer to us. You’re nothing. ”
“Shut your mouth so you don’t imply my mate is only good at popping out babies,” Alex says, standing and coming closer to my side. His hand goes to my waist, and the warmth from him is almost as soothing as the waves of love and pride that he sends through our bond.
“Phoebe is worth more than just her wolf,” Ben adds quietly. He’s serious right now, and his words are backed up with a deeper tone from Fluffy.
“But you won’t ever see her that way,” Topher says, his tone laced with heavy disappointment.
“Stop.” Kane utters the word, and everyone looks at him. His eyes are bright green, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What did you mean when you said that you regret trying to drive my mate closer to us? What did you do?”
“What did you do, Mother?” Topher echoes.
She shrugs, acting like nothing is amiss. “Before I knew she was your mate, I got the Daniel’s twins to go back to her house and terrify her.”
“You messed with the pie,” I whisper, and Seb snarls.
“The pie,” Ben echoes.
“A female wolf is everything ,” Julie says. “What else was I meant to do other than scare you enough that you’d trust us?”
“And we’re back to this, huh?” a female voice asks. I turn, spotting either Iris or Talia hovering in the doorway. I can’t tell which one it is, but the expression of hurt on her face is immense. “What did we do today to offend you, Mother?”
Julie rolls her eyes as if the sight of her rightfully upset daughter is an inconvenience for her. “Nothing, Iris, love. You know that I don’t blame you and your sister for not being strong enough to carry a normal wolf.”
I gasp, but nobody pays me any attention. She thinks her children were too weak to have wolves? What?
She herself was a human turned into a wolf. She never had a “normal” wolf. She’s punishing her children, her daughters, for not being the exact same thing that she wasn’t, either .
If they were too weak, then so is she.
I look up at Seb, and he shakes his head once, mouthing the word “later”. I nod slowly as I choke back the frustrated tears.
She got the police officers who helped me to invade my home, to terrify me, to steal from me. I’ve debated whether I was going crazy, whether it was Ethan, or whether there was something worse happening.
But all along, it was Julie trying to manipulate me.
I feel sick.
“Well, I have no idea what shit I’ve interrupted, but, unless it’s important… I’d like to know about how the dynamics shift occurred. We all felt it, but nobody has approached the pack yet,” Iris says, glancing between us all with a hesitant look.
“There’s nothing more to say,” Ben says with a shrug. “Our parents are toxic and not fit to run the pack. That’s nothing new. I’ve got a few bits of information to chase down, so I’d say this little meeting has been a success.” He nods at his parents mockingly. “Thanks for the help, guys. It’s good to know you’ve got some worth.”
He shoves his chair back, and I flinch at the sound. The screechy noise makes Phoebe cry, and I immediately turn away from the table as I lift her out of the carrier.
“Shh,” I soothe as the room quietens. I cuddle her in close, and Seb bends down to grab her nappy bag.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand and leading me out of the kitchen. Iris and Topher immediately get into it, as their sister starts demanding answers to the questions she’s asking, but as Seb leads me up the stairs, the chatter fades away.
“Are you okay?” I ask, as Seb all but drags me down the corridor. It’s quite a narrow corridor, with Seb and I not being able to walk side-by-side, and all of the doors we pass are closed, except the bathroom, which is at the end.
He doesn’t reply as he opens the third door on the left and practically shoves me inside. My eyes widen as I take in the bedroom. He closes the door behind us and nods to Phoebe.
“May I?” His voice is quiet, hesitant, even.
I nod and hand her over to him. He moves towards the bed and gently lays her down. She gives a soft whine, but he places his hand on her chest and growls softly as he uses his free hand to unpack the nappy bag.
This bedroom has the colour theme of dark grey, and it’s very sleek. There’s a big board with photos on them, and I edge closer to see who is on them.
There’s a bunch of the quads in various stages of their lives. One of them is of the four of them at a wedding—Iris’s, I think, based on the groom—and I pull it down off the board, not sure what I’m seeing.
“Seb, love, when was this photo taken?” I ask, not looking away from a familiar woman in the background. My four men are standing in front of a random table, grinning at the camera. Behind them is a large table with a couple of familiar faces on it.
“Bring it here,” he says as Phoebe starts to cry. I walk over and wait until he’s soothed my daughter before showing him the image. “Talia and Iris’s weddings. They had them on the same day. It was awful.”
“I’m sure. But when was it?”
“It was nearly eleven years ago now?”
I frown, looking at that woman once more, my eyes narrowing. “What date?”
He gently places Phoebe over his shoulder, kissing her temple, and looks at me. I can see the concern etched into his face, but I can’t voice this aloud.
“May.”
“What date ?” My tone is more urgent now as tears prick at my eyes.
He shakes his head, shrugging. “Turn it over. ”
I do and see the date scrawled out in feminine writing. It’s not one I recognise, sadly, but the date is devastating.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, reaching for the photo once more. I pull it out of his grasp and turn it back over so I can see her face once again.
“I don’t know how this is possible,” I whisper.
“How is what possible?” His tone is frantic, and I’m not sure if it’s currently him, Kane, or a combination of them both.
“Who is this here?” I ask, pointing to another woman who is sitting at the same table. She’s got bright blonde hair, bright grey eyes, and is chatting with the woman sitting next to her with a soft smile on her face.
The thing is… I recognise them both, and I’ve got the feeling I now know exactly who the blonde is.
But it’s not possible.
Because as far as I’m aware, one of these women is alive… and the other is dead.
“That’s Morgan,” Seb says quietly. Chills race down my spine, goosebumps appearing over my skin, as I look at the genuine smile on both women’s faces.
“I see,” I whisper, and I don’t understand how I didn’t see it before now. I point to the woman next to her, my heart echoing inside my brain. “Well, that’s my mum.”