Chapter 2 #2
The snobby waiter—who’d miraculously had an attitude change since Gareth entered the restaurant—appeared beside them with three glasses of amber liquid over ice and a rosemary sprig.
“Ah, divine,” Gareth said as the waiter hastily placed a glass in front of each of them before timidly retreating. “Forgefire Whiskey. There’s nothing quite like the smoky, complex blend made by the dependable hands of dwarves, yes?”
There was a pointed edge to his question, and Zera wondered if there was some underlying meaning she wasn’t catching on to.
“Cheers,” Gareth said, lifting his glass of whiskey before taking a sip.
She followed Maverick’s lead and didn’t touch the whiskey.
“So, tell me,” he said after downing the whole thing in one gulp, “what brings the two of you here tonight?”
“Date night,” Maverick answered smoothly, his hands still intertwined with Zera’s.
“Ah, romance. How sweet,” Gareth mused, his tone mocking. “It seems that’s been going around. Did you know a friend of mine owns this restaurant?”
Maverick’s grip on Zera’s hand tightened at the mention of Gareth’s friend owning the restaurant, and she could sense his growing tension. Her heart raced as she remembered what Maverick said about being hired to spy on the restaurant’s owner. Did Gareth know?
Zera’s heart rate spiked. She had a feeling they were treading dangerous waters.
“Oh, really?” Maverick asked, his voice neutral.
“Yes, really.” Gareth paused, studying Maverick for a moment before continuing.
“When I heard that every week his restaurant had the displeasure of being visited by a gray wolf, I had to come see for myself. It is a rare breed of werewolves to spot outside of the Lunar Forest, seeing as how they’re traditionalists and all. ”
Zera gulped. How had she not seen it before? The stormy gray eyes, the insistence that he wasn’t like other wolves, and all the other dodgy answers he’d given her. He was part of the Lunar Brotherhood, a dangerous pack known to be in the pocket of a gang that hunted pixies down for their magic.
She yanked her hand from his. He’d lied enough to her today, and his mere touch now made her loathe the very booth they shared. Perhaps this had all been a ploy to get her pixie dust. But then, he didn’t know she was a pixie yet, so perhaps that was a blessing in disguise.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She couldn’t afford to panic now.
“Oh, did she not know?” Gareth asked, smirking as he looked between the two of them. “I thought for sure married couples would know such things. But I stand corrected.”
Maverick opened his mouth to speak, but Gareth didn’t give him a chance before he fixed Zera with a pointed gaze.
“Your husband here is a regular at this establishment,” Gareth continued, his eyes darkening. “Rather… frequent visits with different ladies, wouldn’t you say?”
“Old habits die hard,” Maverick quipped, not missing a beat. “But I’m a reformed man now, thanks to my lovely wife.”
“Ha! Wife,” Gareth mused, clearly not convinced. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You see, my friend who owns this place, he keeps a keen eye on repeat customers, especially those who aren’t his usual clientele.”
Zera swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to predict Gareth’s next move.
“Imagine my surprise,” Gareth continued, “when I saw none other than my old logistics strategist, the same one who double-crossed me, on the security footage. Quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”
Zera could practically feel Maverick’s muscles tense beside her, but his expression remained calm and collected.
“Coincidences do happen,” Maverick replied coolly, his eyes never leaving Gareth’s. “And for the record, I am married. To Charlotte.”
“Of course,” Gareth said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
He chuckled, a sound that made the bread she chewed turn sour.
“I have to ask. Where’ve you been all this time?
Because we both know this”—he waved his hand at the two of them—“is a sham. It’s as if Dane got wiped off the face of the Realm after we… split ways.”
At that moment, Maverick stiffened. Something about them parting ways got under his skin, and Zera knew there was something more to that than what they were letting on.
Maverick had only broken his stoic demeanor for a split second, but Zera noticed it immediately.
“What do you want, Gareth?” Maverick finally asked.
“Isn’t it obvious, Dane?” He spat the name out like it was poison in his mouth.
“It’s what I’ve wanted ever since I discovered you were a mole in my operations, bringing my decades-old business to its knees.
Since I found out you’re actually not Dane Brown, the master logistics strategist, but rather Maverick Harris. A spy for hire.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maverick said, but the twitch in his jaw made it clear that Gareth had hit a nerve. “I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”
“No more lies!” Gareth waved his hand in a flourish, and the fork in front of her instantly levitated, aimed to pierce her between the eyes.
The air in her lungs froze, and her muscles locked up. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Her blood turned to ice as she stared at the fork and certain death.
A growl rumbled from beside her, and without warning, Maverick’s whole body shuddered, shifting into his werewolf form as he lunged across the table for Gareth’s jugular.
He was a blur of fur, fangs, and muscle as he tackled Gareth before the elf could use his powers again, the fork clattering to the floor.
Gareth’s men were on Maverick in an instant, pulling him away from their boss, who scurried out of Maverick’s clutches before he had a chance to sink his teeth into him.
The restaurant descended into chaos as tables overturned and chairs crashed to the floor. Guards rushed in from all directions. Some drew weapons that sent a flurry of magical bullets while others flashed vampire fangs and werejaguar claws, and demons called upon their dark magic.
Maverick easily fought them off, swatting away the demon who’d dared drag him by his tail with a powerful swipe of his clawed paw. His wolf form dominated the room with a ferocity Zera hadn’t seen in a werewolf before.
A blast hit the table near hers, and her paralysis shattered as she regained control over her body. She was going to die if she didn’t move. Another blast hit the window behind her table, and it shattered on impact.
She ducked under the table as Maverick tackled Gareth, dragging the elf by his collar.
The sounds of bones cracking and spells being cast echoed beyond the white linen. Her breath came in shallow gasps. She never should’ve gone on this stupid date.
She should’ve listened to her instincts that were telling her she didn’t need a man when she had all the love she needed in being Cole’s mom. Now, she was going to die while on a fake date with an arrogant spy.
She sucked at the air in desperate gulps. What the fae was she supposed to do now?
Zera peeked out from underneath the tablecloth. A druid in a brown cloak with runes tattooed across his forehead stood over Maverick’s werewolf form.
Maverick howled out in pain as the druid with the forehead runes flexed his fingers, controlling a vine that wrapped itself around his wolf neck. His body shuddered as if losing oxygen, morphing back into his human form.
Her chest throbbed at the heightened thrum of her heart. If he died, she’d lose every chance of getting out of here alive. Of seeing her son again. She had no choice but to do something.
Screw it. She had to try to use her magic even if it threatened to expose what she was—a pixie who could still produce pixie dust.
“Enough!” Gareth commanded before she could make a move, his voice dripping with malice as he approached Maverick’s wolf form. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Gareth nodded to the forehead-rune druid, who drew another pattern in the air. Maverick snarled as a table leg snapped off and warped itself into handcuffs and bound his wrists together.
Maverick’s gaze met hers as he struggled against the rope tightening around his neck. She could’ve sworn she saw his mouth move, as if he was trying to tell her to run, but they both knew she couldn’t do that.
Taking a deep breath, Zera focused on the dwindling pixie dust hidden within her, drawing up every last bit of it. She prayed it would be enough to help them escape this nightmare. She only had to distract everyone long enough for them to make a run for the exit. No pressure or anything.
She flexed her fingers, allowing the energy to surge up her spine and fill her with power.
The energy pulsed down to her fingers, and she willed it to obey.
As the rope around Maverick’s neck tightened and his face reddened, power emanated from her hands.
She aimed the magic toward the wooden handcuffs.
With a bang, the wood splintered into a dozen pieces, freeing Maverick’s wrists.
“Take that, you twisted piece of lumber,” she muttered under her breath, leaping out from the privacy of the tablecloth. Zera’s body trembled with a mix of fear and determination as she faced Gareth and his gang of fae.
She summoned all the pixie dust she could muster. The purple magic swirled around her, and she willed a shimmering illusion to life. The chaos in the restaurant blurred and shifted as the air around Maverick filled with tendrils of purple light.
The forehead-rune druid’s control of the vine around Maverick’s neck fell slack, since the druid was momentarily disoriented by the unexpected distraction.
The other guards pivoted to attack her, but their motions slowed as if everyone had been put on pause.
Even Gareth froze, except for his eyes that were locked on her like a hawk’s.
Shit. She guessed her secret was out. But she’d never see him again, right?