15. Hypocritical
"How do you know John is waiting?" I ask.
"The same way we knew when you came here," the woman responds curtly.
Yes, I gathered that. They're watching us.
"How exactly are you keeping track of us?"
"Too many questions, Communicator," the Leader says, but his voice doesn't carry the same threatening tone as before.
"Get ready. We leave in five minutes."
I stand up and walk to the room, feeling their eyes on my back, watching every movement. I look for my backpack and pull out my toothbrush, quickly brushing my teeth and changing my clothes.
When I come back, the two of them are standing together very closely, talking in hushed tones.
Without even looking at me, he walks to the door and opens it. "Come," he orders and starts walking. I scramble behind him, trying to keep up with his pace.
"You know what I don't understand?" I ask, but he doesn't react. Still, I keep going. "If this was all a grand plan of yours, why did you come to the meeting wanting to take the boys?"
"Let's just say you convinced me, Communicator. Contrary to your human friends, I thought you might actually be good at your job."
I don't believe his words in the slightest. I heard him talking about using me.
"You mean, you thought that I could be of use to you," I clarify.
He stops and turns around. "Yes."
He studies my face for a moment. "My representative wanted to take the boys immediately. Make an example." He pauses. "But you..."
"I what?"
He shrugs. "You made me curious—if you could actually be helpful, maybe even do your job, unlike the others."
"What did you do to them?"
His expression closes off again. "Let's just say it's more complicated than you think."
I stare at him, feeling that familiar frustration building in my chest. Another non-answer.
"Complicated?" I don't even have the energy to fight for more information. "Forget it."
I step around him and start to walk. But he catches me softly by the arm, stopping me.
"If you help us today," he says in a low voice, "I will answer all your questions."
I look up at him, surprised. "All of them? Every single one? Everything I want to know about the Pack, structures, hierarchies?"
"Curious much, Communicator?"
"Yes."
He starts walking again and I follow him. This time I look around. People are still watching me—not friendly, but their eyes aren't full of hatred anymore either.
Progress?
"You know, you spoke those words about not tolerating violence in the Pack," I say.
"So?"
"Isn't it hypocritical that you threatened me the moment we met?"
He stops so abruptly I actually walk into him, stumbling back. His entire body goes rigid.
"That's not the same thing," he says, his voice low and controlled.
"How is it not the same?" I push back, despite every instinct telling me to shut up. "Violence is violence."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. You threatened me with death the moment we met. How is that different from the violence you claim not to tolerate?"
His jaw tightens. "Because you came here as part of a system that's been—"
"—I came here to communicate." I interrupt him.
"You came here representing them."
"And you represent people who killed my mother." The words come out sharp. "Does that make you responsible for her death?"
He turns to face me fully now, not saying anything.
"We've never had a conflict. Why treat me like the enemy from the start?"
He laughs without humor, drawing more glances from the people walking around.
"Before you judge us, maybe you should read those documents you'll retrieve today before giving them to us," he finally says.
Before I can respond, a woman approaches us. The Leader's entire demeanor shifts as he turns to address her.
"Everything ready, Farah?" the Leader asks.
"Yes." She replies. I can tell she wants to say something else but stops herself, her eyes flicking to me briefly.
"Good. Thank you." He nods respectfully. "How's your brother doing with the new pups?"
Farah's stern expression softens slightly. "He's exhausted but happy. Says they're the most energetic litter he's ever watched."
"Tell him the Pack appreciates his help. And make sure he gets extra rest."
"Will do." She glances at me again, this time with what might be curiosity rather than hostility.
As Farah walks away, I watch the Leader's face return to its guarded expression as he refocuses on me.
"This way," he says, leading me toward what looks like an all-terrain vehicle—something between a motorcycle and a small ATV, designed to navigate uneven ground.
He hands me a helmet. "Put this on."
"Why didn't we use this when I came here?" I ask, thinking of my still-sore legs.
He doesn't answer, just tells me, "Get on."
I strap on the helmet and climb onto the back of the bike, gripping the sides as he starts it up.
The engine purrs quietly—much quieter than I expected.
As we begin to move forward, the bike lurches slightly on the uneven terrain, and instinctively I let go of the sides and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him.
I feel him tense for just a moment, surprised, but he doesn't move my hands away.