12. Callum
CALLUM
I set my phone down on the table a little harder than I meant to and everyone sat around it stops talking and looks my way.
Lynx, Flint, Morgan, and Mal. Only Jet’s missing.
Lynx’s gaze flicks from me to my phone, then back again. “All right?”
No.
Leaving Ash this morning was harder than it was the day before. He was all sleep-warm and sprawled over me like I’m someone he can trust.
But I’m not.
I want to be, though, and when did that fucking happen?
Not that it matters, because as soon as he knows . . . “You need to tell him.” I direct that at Morgan, since it’s apparently all his decision as to when Ash finds out about us. He bristles at my tone. I know I sound like an arsehole, but I’m unsettled and agitated, and I can’t find my usual calm.
Morgan’s lip curls. “You spend a couple of nights with Ash and suddenly you know what’s best for him?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Whoa!” Flint sits up straight, eyes wide as he looks between me and Morgan. “You slept with Ash, Cal? I thought you were just watching him as a precaution.”
Fuck.
Mal huffs. “You’ve got to be the only one who didn’t smell it all over him when he got back yesterday.”
“I’ve not been here the last couple of days, remember?”
Flint’s been watching Morgan’s old house, which is where Jet is now. It’s what we should be talking about, but after that text . . . “I can’t keep lying to him or skirting around the truth.”
“And you think I want to?” Morgan’s chair goes flying as he shoots to his feet. “His fucking grandma just died.”
“I know that.” My hands curl into fists as I remember holding Ash outside the hospital.
“Then you know that there’s no way I can tell him his best friend’s no longer human. Not now.”
Not ever is what I hear, and I’m on my feet before I register moving, hands braced on the table.
“Then when, Morgan? When is going to be a good time to tell Ash that we’ve all been lying to him?
That none of us are human. And that the reason he and his family might be in danger is because a fucked-up group of ex-hunters has it in for us, not to mention a rival gang of shifters.
” I snarl, my temper barely contained now.
“When’s going to be a fucking good time for that?
” I spit the last word, only then registering the shocked faces looking back at me.
I’m the calm one, the guy who rarely loses his temper. Lynx’s right-hand man because of that.
It takes a second for Morgan to react to my outburst, then his incensed roar echoes around the room as he launches himself across the table. But Lynx is quicker, hauling him back and wrapping both arms around him.
“Stop.” Lynx doesn’t roar, doesn’t raise his voice, but that one command is loaded with raw alpha power and everyone freezes.
Heavy breathing fills the room: mine and Morgan’s.
We glare at each other across the table, but as his rage still burns hot and bright, mine is ebbing away fast. Clarity returns and, along with it, a hefty dose of shame, embarrassment, and regret. I don’t even recognise myself right now.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Morgan.” I sit back down and run a hand over my face, wishing I could hide behind it.
When I meet his eyes again, they’re full of warring emotions.
My apology clearly took him by surprise and I can see how he’s torn.
Part of him wants to hold on to that righteous anger; the other part—the wolf in him—wants to accept my apology and move on.
Because we’re pack, and that bond will override everything in the end.
“I know how hard it’s going to be for you to tell Ash about us. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
Lynx must sense the change in him and he drops his arms, letting him go.
Morgan doesn’t move but leans back against him, breathing slowly, returning to normal.
He nods once in acknowledgement but cocks his head to the side.
“You still smell of him.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer.
“What’s going on with you two? He still hasn’t told me about it and—” He breaks off and sorrow clouds his expression.
“We used to tell each other everything . . . before.”
I sigh, guilt joining everything else I’m feeling. Morgan is new to this life and all the heightened emotions that come with it.
I need to remember that.
I need to do better. Be better.
He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer that I just don’t have right now.
But I’ve got to give him something. And it has to be the truth—there’s been enough lying.
“I was there when he needed someone to hold him together, to make sure he didn’t break.
” I pull in a slow, deep breath, preparing to admit something out loud that, up until now, I’ve refused to admit, even to myself.
“Something changed after that first time.” I glance at Lynx, at the understanding in his eyes, then look away fast, not wanting to see it.
“I went back that night because I couldn’t stay away.
” I look down at the table, at my hands that’ve touched his naked skin.
Have wiped away his tears. “I still can’t. ”
That’s all I need to say for the weight of that implication to set in. For everyone around this table to understand how fucking complicated this could get if I let it. And what I could potentially lose when Morgan tells him the truth and it all goes to shit.
“It’s fine.” It’s not. But it’s also out of my control. “I won’t let it get beyond what it is now.”
“And what’s that?” Morgan asks, but there’s no anger in his voice now, just curiosity and something that feels a lot like pity, and I do not fucking want that.
“Helping him get through his grief. When he learns the truth about us, about me, it’ll be done. Finished. So it’s a non-issue.” Ash might forgive Morgan; they’ve been best friends for years. Brothers. Like me and the others around this table.
I don’t have that history with him.
There’ll be no forgiveness for me.
I might not have lied outright, but I let him be at his most vulnerable with me without offering the same. I let him sleep next to a monster without giving him a choice.
And I’m done talking about it.
“So,” I say before anyone else can get a word in. “I finally got hold of Tanner Grey this morning.” That gets everyone’s attention. Lynx was going to make the call, but I needed the distraction. It’s the reason I asked for this meeting in the first place, but Ash’s text derailed it.
“Should we wait for Jet?” Flint asks, already reaching for his phone.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll fill him in later.
” I want to share the information now, while it’s fresh in my head.
“We didn’t talk for long. His hunter group is still being closely monitored by the council.
But he recognised the tattoo that Ash described.
Said it sounds like the ones a few of Fox’s old hunter group had. ”
Flint snarls. “What the fuck are they doing around here then? I thought the council disbanded that group?”
I nod because that’s what Tanner told us. “I asked him that too. As far as he was aware, it was true. He hasn’t heard anything about them being redeployed to other groups. If they’re here, it’s likely not council-sanctioned.”
Mal rolls his eyes. “Not exactly news.”
“No, but at least we know for sure the council isn’t watching us.”
“True,” he concedes.
“Anyway, Tanner said he’ll try and find out more if he can. I don’t think he’s the most popular guy in his group right now, so I told him to be careful.” As far as hunters go, Tanner Grey is one of the better ones. I don’t want him to get hurt for helping us.
“What about my house?” Morgan cuts in, the faint scent of pain, regret, and hurt, misting the air.
My expression softens when I face him. “I’m sorry, Morgan. Tanner said that the only information he could get was that the house was in Fox’s name and, per his will that the council hold, it went to his beneficiary.”
“What the fuck?” Morgan yells, hands curling into fists. His claws split the skin on his palms, and I can smell how close he is to a full shift. Lynx can too, and he grips Morgan’s shoulders, murmuring in his ear until the threat subsides.
I don’t blame him one fucking bit.
“Who’s the beneficiary?” Flint asks the same question I did when Tanner told me.
And I have to give him the same unsatisfactory answer.
“Tanner doesn’t know. And he can’t find out without drawing unwanted attention to himself.
He said the council don’t seem to care how Fox came to own Morgan’s old house.
They just want to bury this whole mess with the least trouble or public scrutiny. ”
“Of course they fucking do.” Lynx pulls Morgan into his side, and Morgan goes willingly, his nose buried in the crook of Lynx’s neck.
He inhales, then closes his eyes on a sigh, because what he smells is their combined scents, their mate bond.
The solid promise of unconditional comfort, support, and love.
Of forever.
The ache in my chest flares brightly for one agonising moment, and I can’t help but imagine what that would be like.
Of having a connection with another person that ran bone deep, one that I felt in my fucking soul.
Except the person in my imagination is a lot bigger than Morgan, and he has black hair instead of blond, hazel eyes instead of blue.
And he’ll never look at me the way Morgan looks at Lynx.
“Any update on those staying at the house?” Lynx asks, and I focus back in on the meeting.
Mal shakes his head. “Not really. It’s still the same ones.
They come and go in twos, almost like it’s a shift change.
Like they’ve been watching someone or searching for something.
We can’t get close enough to check for tattoos without them seeing us on the security cameras, and following them is risky, as theirs is the only house around here so we’d be obvious from the start. ”
I catch Lynx’s eye, both of us thinking the same thing.