6. Callum
CALLUM
The first thing I do when I get back in Ash’s car is open the windows.
Even with fresh air flowing in, I’m still surrounded by his scent, and it’s unnerving in a way I can’t pinpoint.
I set my phone down on the passenger seat when it’s clear he’s done texting me and realise I’m smiling.
Not happening.
It’s been a fucker of a day, that’s all.
Morgan is pack now, and Ash is . . . I don’t know what he is exactly, but his close connection to Morgan translates to us to some extent.
Seeing him injured and having that arsehole Wilson with him?
It’s set my wolf on edge, and my senses are still on high alert.
Every one of my senses has been dialled up for the past few hours, and unfortunately that amplifies everything. The most inconvenient thing for me being the myriad of scents coming off Ash and the smell of sex in his bedroom.
Goddess, help me, going in that room was a test of my self-control.
Ash Norton is a good-looking bloke, I’m not blind, and he’s exactly the type of man I like.
But I can’t go there, for a lot of reasons.
And under normal circumstances, ignoring any stirring of attraction is easy enough. But he was hurt, and that room was thick with the heady mix of his scent and sex, and for one dangerous moment, I wanted to climb beneath those sheets with him and take care of him.
In every way.
I smack the steering wheel, angry at myself.
I can’t afford to let that happen again.
For the rest of the drive back to the compound, I occupy myself compiling a mental list of all the things I need to report back.
It’s a long fucking list, which no one’s going to be happy about.
I thought Fox’s death might’ve bought us a little downtime, but it’s had the opposite effect.
By the time I reach the compound, I’ve come down enough to be back in full control. The outside of the house is deserted as I pull up in front, so I text the others to meet me inside.
Apart from Mal, they’re all waiting for me in church when I arrive.
I was half expecting Morgan to be in there too, but he’s not. I raise an eyebrow at the empty space next to Lynx.
“Still with Luke and Nico,” Lynx answers.
I think that’s probably for the best right now, but he’s going to find out about Wilson soon enough.
“How was Ash?” Flint asks as soon as I sit down. There’s a glint to his eye, and I wonder if Corey’s told them anything. I should’ve got a heads-up from him before I arrived. Too late now.
“His wrist should be fine in a few weeks.”
A stunned silence greets me.
Okay, so Corey hasn’t been in touch, and Ash apparently hasn’t told Morgan either.
“What the fuck did you do?” Lynx turns to face me, arms crossed.
I sigh and scrub a hand over my jaw, not looking forward to this at all. “It’s been an interesting few hours. I thought it better to explain in person, so let me tell you what happened, then we can decide what the fuck to do.”
A round of nods greet me, and I look to Lynx for final confirmation.
He looks like I feel, no doubt feeding off my energy. I try and rein it in, but he grips my shoulder hard.
“Don’t hide anything from us.”
So I don’t. I lean into my frustration and worry that instead of improving, things are only going to get worse for us.
“Some guy stole Ash’s phone and injured his wrist when he knocked him over.
Luckily it wasn’t his own phone, but his nan’s.
” I pause, letting them digest the significance of that.
I don’t know what Ash and Morgan talk about, but I doubt we want any of it getting into hunter hands.
“He says he didn’t get a good look at the guy except that he was white.
” I wait again until I’ve got their full attention. “And he had a hunter tattoo.”
Sharp inhales echo around the table as I describe the tattoo.
Lynx snarls. “So that’s Fox’s group, right? The same one that’s supposed to have been disbanded.”
“I reckon so.”
He sits back in his seat and runs agitated hands through his hair. “Fuck.”
My instinct is to try and calm him down, but I’m not done yet. “There’s more. The guy who helped Ash get to A&E was Ray Wilson.”
Lynx growls this time, the sound raw and feral. He stands so fast his chair tips over, so he kicks it out of the way. “Give me a sec.” He leans against the wall, bent over with his hands on his knees, harsh breaths filling the room.
I get it.
Ray Wilson was involved with hunters who tortured Morgan’s father and threatened to do the same to Morgan.
Lynx’s mate.
I’m surprised he’s as calm as he is.
“Does Wilson know about us?” Jet’s voice is cold, detached, the way he always gets around hunters and those associated with them.
“I don’t think so. Whatever the hunters told them, it wasn’t the truth.” That doesn’t change much. They were still willing to get involved with torturing someone.
“Why try and steal Ash’s phone, though?” Flint glances at Lynx, but our alpha’s not fully with us quite yet.
“They know his connection to Morgan. Maybe they want to find out how much he knows?” I hold out my hands. “Or maybe this guy’s working on his own? The fact is, we just don’t know.”
“Fucking hunters,” Jet spits, hands curled into fists on top of the table.
The rest of them look to me instead of Lynx, but I could do with his input on this because, like it or not, this involves Morgan. And everything to do with Morgan involves Lynx.
“You good, Lynx?”
It takes a moment, but when he finally raises his head, there’s the Lynx we need right now. “Yeah.” He picks up his discarded chair and sits back down. Rage fills every part of him still, but it’s banked now, contained until he needs to let it out. “We need to tell Morgan.”
“We do.”
He reaches for his phone at the same time as the door flies open and Morgan stands there looking murderous.
Flint points a finger at him. “Think he already knows.”
“He was fucking mugged?” His gaze zeroes in on me. “And you didn’t think to let me know?”
“I was leaving it up to Ash.”
He snarls and waves a hand encompassing everyone in the room. “Yet you’re telling them.”
I catch Lynx’s eye and subtly shake my head. I don’t need him to intervene in this. It’ll only piss Morgan off more.
All his rage is aimed at me right now, and that’s fine. I understand to a degree, but more than that, this life is new to him, like Lynx said. We’ve all had years to learn to control the beast within when emotions take over.
Morgan’s had weeks.
He might be handling it better than expected, but when people we love are in danger, control is tenuous at best.
“They needed to know. And I’d have told you too, if Ash hadn’t already.”
His hands curl into fists, then unfurl just as quickly. He does this a few more times, the primal need to rage at me warring with the human common sense trying to kick in. The room remains silent as he works through it.
We’ve all been there.
It could go either way and we’ll still be there for him afterwards. We’re pack now, we’ll always have his back, no matter what.
Finally he lets out a ragged sigh and runs a hand through his hair. Wildness lingers in his eyes, but the rest of his body relaxes.
And so does everyone else around the table.
“Sorry,” Morgan mutters. “I was just—”
“I get it.” I flash him a genuine smile to reinforce that I mean it. There are no hard feelings here. We fill him in on everything we’ve discussed so far, and as expected, that rage comes barrelling back to the surface when we get to Ray Wilson’s involvement.
But this time it’s so much worse.
“No.” The anguished roar tears out of him, full of pain and anger, and we all flinch, feeling every bit of emotion with him. Lynx shoots out of his chair and pulls Morgan into his arms. “I don’t want that fucker anywhere near Ash.”
I don’t either.
But there’s not a lot we can do when it comes to the police. I doubt they’d believe Morgan if he marched in there and told them what happened to his father.
There’s no proof.
Nothing to connect officers Ray Wilson and Jeff Stokes to a crime that was never reported to the authorities. And hunter groups aren’t exactly common knowledge.
“All we can do is keep an eye on them.” Or try.
At this rate, we’ll be watching every fucker in Harlington.
But there’s also another option. “Or . . . you could tell Ash everything.” I choose my next words carefully.
Morgan’s still on edge and I don’t want to push him over, but I’m not going to sugarcoat what I want to say either.
“I won’t lie, I wasn’t fully on board with you telling him about us, and I’m still not.
But you need to tell him about this at least.” Morgan’s lip curls, but I ignore him. “He’s not stupid—”
“I know that—”
“He knows there’s something we’re not telling him, that you’re not telling him. If you want to keep him safe, then he needs to know who might pose a threat.” I meet Lynx’s gaze, fully prepared to be on the end of his glare too, but he looks resigned if anything.
He agrees with me.
“He’s worried about you,” I add softly. “Worried if you’re safe from whoever out there might be a threat to him. Worried if you’re safe here.”
Morgan sags against Lynx, all the fight leaving him, and lets Lynx guide him to a seat. “I know.” When he lifts his head, I see the apology on his lips, and I don’t need it or want it. We feel how we feel. As shifters we know that better than anyone.
“He’s going to file a police report about his nan’s phone.” Morgan glances around the table. “I convinced him to do it online instead of going into the station, but you’re right. He won’t accept my excuse of it’s complicated for much longer.”
“Do you think he’s in real danger?” Flint asks, and all eyes turn to him, except Morgan’s.
His gaze stays firmly on me, like I have all the answers.
I wish I did. I wish I could predict how any of this will play out, but I’m not fucking psychic, and ex-hunters—if that’s who they are—are unpredictable.
They don’t have the backing of the council, but that means they aren’t bound by their rules either.