Chapter 14
There's something bothering Jace.
That much is evident when he came out of the cafeteria looking like someone had thrown shit at him. By the end of the day, I managed to piece it together.
Those 'friends' of his are giving him crap because he spent the weekend with us. Whatever they're building their theory on is of little importance to me. What doesn't settle is that they've made Jace their new target and this can only end one way.
The same way such things go when they unanimously select a victim for their bullying.
Rumors are floating around about a possible retaliation before week's end. For now, there's nothing I or anyone else can do except wait for them to strike.
It's not like before when I'd take the backseat and watch the chaos unfold.
With Jace being my mate, instinct would make me act if he's perceived to be in danger. It's why I intercepted him at the end of day.
"Is everything alright?"
Jace adjusts the strap of his bookbag, giving the nearly empty hallway a cursory glance as though worried about us being seen together.
"I'm fine."
"I heard about what happened with your friends."
He shakes his head, adamant about not speaking of it. "It's all good. Just a minor disagreement."
"Right," I drawl.
He expels a tired little sigh and looks straight at me. Those pretty green eyes are suddenly void of light and fire. He looks exhausted.
"Really, there's nothing to be worried about." He checks his phone and then, "I have to go. But hey, thanks for asking."
I watch him as he retreats, playing over and over that tired smile in my head. He hadn't lied, but he also isn't telling the whole truth.
Something is amiss.
But with no immediate danger in sight, it's one thing I don't need to think about at the moment. I've enough on my mind.
There's going to be another meeting between Marcana and Lativa. This time, we're heading to their turf. I have to get home as soon as possible because the pack's current leaders want a meeting brief with everyone selected to attend.
We still don't trust Lativa, even less knowing that Jessop will be there. We have to prepare for any number of peculiarities and of the four successors to the leading ranks, I made it clear I'd be going.
I'm going to ensure that nothing suspicious is happening. This truce between our packs is hanging by a thin thread. If there is an upheaval, Ezra will be kissing his desired alliance goodbye.
That's not a good thing for him since it would breed all kinds of chaos a certain haggard bastard might thrive off.
It's like a sense of foreboding hovering quietly ever since the last meeting – the undeniable tingle that something could happen.
Jessica's bond to Ezra amplifies that feeling of dread.
We can only hope for peace but with a man like Jessop Atkinson lurking about, it's only a matter of when and how he'll strike.
By six o'clock, we're out of Marcana. The sun hangs low on the horizon casting the streets in shadows, buildings in silhouettes as the vehicles move through town heading to the one place I'd rather not be.
There are ten of us split evenly between two cars.
The first transports Beta Chad and Commander Rick seated up front, the former in the driver's seat.
My father, myself, and a pack warrior handpicked for this outing sit squished in the backseat.
The vehicle trailing us transports the alpha and his luna, their daughter, and two more warriors.
Of course, we're carrying but since this is a peace treaty, our weaponry is boiled down to Glocks concealed in holsters beneath our jackets and throwing knives sheathed in the belts at our waists.
We arrive in Lativa's commercial territory within minutes, and I'm quickly reminded of how similar to the slums this place is.
The streets aren't quiet but small businesses that once thrived in this part of town have little to no customers inside.
Most have shut their doors for the night adhering to the Council-approved curfew as a way of fighting the crime rate.
They're only so much better off than the slums.
Murders are rare, but burglary, home invasions, theft, assault, and shootouts – territorial and power disputes between the locals and the pack – are at an all-time high.
Over the years, gangs have sprung up here and there.
There have been minor disputes regarding turf but Lativa remains the most powerful entity in this part.
A police cruiser passes by when we enter a neighborhood occupied by both humans and Weres. As the cruiser heads the way we came, a small boy no older than twelve perched on the banister of his home's front porch hops down and disappears through the front door.
The law-abiding citizens around here don't care much about breaking a curfew implemented to protect them.
Two years ago, there was an uptick in looting and riots that made news throughout Schrattner's County.
The neighboring counties caught wind of it too.
It was following Jessop's release from prison that sparked outrage in the community.
Protests and riots occurred. The police station and the Council's official building was stormed.
The Weres of Lativa and its mostly Were neighborhoods demanded another trial, and that the Council throw Jessop's ass back in prison for a life term, no bail, and no ease up on his sentence.
The Council barely batted an eyelash. Teenagers were caught in the crossfire, some were hospitalized because they'd been trampled by angry mobs or beaten down by policing units sent out for crowd control.
That's the major downside to how the Council handled that issue, choosing their personal vendetta over helping the Weres in Lativa who are barely getting by.
To some degree, I understand the Council's decision to turn its back on Lativa. What Jessop Atkinson did violated everything we stand for, and an example needed to be made so there isn't a second time.
We might be here to try and fix things but I'm not na?ve to believe that Marcana is welcomed in these parts.
We're a big part of why Lativa has suffered so much and tonight, I'm witnessing it firsthand since I usually stay away from this shady part of town.
Once Marcana pulled out of all things to do with Lativa, Crescent Hill followed, and most outside investors.
Dying businesses, boycotted jobs, and a practically sanctioned area of Jasper Falls led to a drastic decline in living conditions for the Weres of Lativa and the humans residing in the surrounding neighborhoods.
Lativa Weres who join the Council's policing unit are the only exceptions.
No wonder Ezra is trying his best to rebuild burnt bridges.
His home is dying, on the brink of total collapse.
The vehicle turns into a side street leading away from the neighborhood. We drive a while longer, then take a right onto a narrow, shadowed road with imposing brick walls on either side marking the beginning of Lativa's pack territory.
The walls have been repainted numerous times from the layers of peeling paint obscuring graffiti.
My guess is that the pack decided against a repair job that would be destroyed in less than a day.
The headlights flash against the wall, illuminating the vile graffitied messages and threats aimed at Lativa.
Beta Chad makes another right, strolling the car to a halt.
Both SUVs sit in front of a large remote-controlled gate that looks like it belongs at the entrance of a penitentiary.
Out front guarding the gates are two pack warriors dressed in black from head-to-toe, carrying walkie-talkies.
Strapped to their belts is a Glock per man.
One of the guards approach the driver's side and Beta Chad rolls down the window just enough that the man can catch a glimpse of his face.
The guard speaks into the walkie-talkie, and the penitentiary-like gates roll open. The guards patrolling on the other side disperse to make way.
The streets inside are quiet reminding me of a small town with a tragic history that has left its occupants in a constant state of despair.
The homes are quaint, curtains drawn down and lights illuminating the front porches.
Most are dark, empty of life and movement as if it hasn't been used in a long time – a testament that many have gone rogue or simply can't afford housing while having a stigma attached to them because of the pack they hail from.
As the SUVs stroll street after street making way for Lativa's conference hall situated at the center of the pack's territory, Weres peek out of windows as if it's big spectacle.
It probably is. For the first time in over a decade, they're receiving help. Our presence here is a beacon of light for these Weres, a hope for a brighter future and one that isn't plagued by the tyranny of a senile alpha.
After three more corners, we approach a stone half wall running the perimeter of a building which, though renovated and repainted, has seen a generation or two.
I wasn't born yet when Lativa started creating an upset with my pack. By the time I was five, Marcana had severed all connections and alliances with them. This is the first time I'm setting foot on Lativa soil.
The stone half wall has black iron beams shooting upward and a black gate left open.
The main building is a short three-second drive away.
We're welcomed by Ezra's attempt to liven up the pack's center.
Solar lights are staked into the lawn and on either side of the drive are marble statue fountains of cherub angels playing flutes and harps, sprouting water.
"Those look new," my father comments, eyeing the fountains as we drive by, as if half expecting them to spring to life and attack the SUVs.
"They look like they cost a bit," Beta Chad points. "Did you see the details on that thing?"
Dad's response is harsh with distrust. "Where'd you think they got money for that?"
Beta Chad kills the engine as the building's front door opens and a group of people step out.
Ezra and his in-commands. Jessop is there too with the two in-commands under his former reign. That brings the meeting to a total of seventeen. It's Ezra's hope that tonight would sway our decision to help and sweeten us up to the idea of Jessica becoming his luna.
Beta Chad turns to my father strapped into the passenger's seat beside him. He looks at me next, squished between the two warriors. They're not small guys and I'm not small either. The ride over has been uncomfortable enough and now I'm just irritated seeing Jessop's face.
"Are you two alright?"
"No," Dad mutters.
The feeling's mutual.
I don't trust Jessop as far as I could throw him, and the same goes for Dad.
His resentment for Jessop is unmatched. Nobody can blame him for harboring such raw hatred that hasn't lessened to this day.
Any man who's been in my father's position would be the same.
That's not something one gets over. It's not something that leaves as quietly as it crept in.
I don't feel like being particularly nice but tonight isn't about what the Daniels' men want.
Jessica is the luna of Lativa so it's only fair we try our best to play nice while she's doing her best to save this pack and fix those burned bridges.
Beta Chad raises an eyebrow and turns back to me. I raise a hand and give him the 'okay' sign. He accepts it, knowing that any time Jessop or Lativa is mentioned, my father's fuse is short – well, shorter – and expecting him to give an answer is simply wasted time and breath.
He steps out first, then the two warriors. Dad and I are last to exit, the other three forming a barricade around us as if to ensure we don't step out of line.
I'll be at my best behavior, though the same cannot be said for my father because as we join the others and ascend the three steps to the platform above, his jaw is screwed shut so tightly that he could splinter teeth. A muscle visibly thumps in his cheek, and a vein is bulging in his neck.
This whole thing is a dumb idea.
"Ezra," Alpha Isaiah greets stiffly. His tone is businesslike.
Clipped and straightforward. Ezra has a lot of work to do if he intends to win over Marcana's alpha and gain his blessings to mate and marry the man's only daughter.
Alpha Isaiah won't let Jessica go without a fight until he's certain no harm will come to her.
Ezra nods. "Alpha Isaiah. I hope you didn't have any problems getting here. This part of town isn't far off from the slums."
There's no shame in Ezra's words. Only acceptance, as if he understands why Lativa has been left to rot.
His life wasn't great growing up from what few rumors I have heard. If they're true, and I suspect they are, Ezra was subjected to an abuse-filled childhood, spending the majority of his life under Jessop's grip when his mother mysteriously died only days after Ezra's first shift at four years old.
Those ten years that Jessop spent locked away were probably the best Ezra ever had.
And then enter his prick father during his sophomore in high school to fuck it up again.
Alpha Isaiah says nothing to Ezra's words. By his attitude alone, he's indifferent to the suffering and downtrodden living conditions the pack is subjected to.
We get on with the meeting as Ezra invites us inside the conference hall. It's not a large building, quaint in comparison to Marcana's, with an inside just as quaint. A large oval table sits in the middle of the room, carved from oak wood, and furnished with black iron steel legs.
An assortment of snacks and munchies are spread at the center of the table, a stack of napkins and small disposable saucers.
It's the main building where strategy meetings and pack politics are discussed. It needs to make a statement. At first glance, the drapery, the furniture – it's all new. Ezra's definitely putting in an effort to revamp his home.
For the next hour, the meeting carries on at a peaceful pace.
There are no upheavals. Jessop and his accompanying in-commands keep silent as the heads of Marcana review Ezra's work within the community to rebrand himself and the pack.
He expressed an interest in investing and purchasing stock at Aegean Industries, pitched plans for developmental projects that would benefit his pack, and by large, the town.
Any disagreements are swiftly dismantled with propositions for solutions and appropriate course of action.
As discussions continued, Jessop remains quiet, observing the room with a ramrod stiff spine and a face made of stone. His disapproval toward his son during negotiations to strengthen ties between the packs are telling. He doesn't think Ezra is cut out for the position of alpha.
In fact, he doesn't think much of his son. There's nothing but hatred when he looks at Ezra because his son's succeeding at rebuilding the pack he singlehandedly destroyed.
My attention is disrupted when my phone vibrates. It's a message from Jace.
His name flashing across the screen sends warmth blooming in my chest but the content of his message kills that warm, fuzzy feeling, eliciting worry.
'Sorry to bother you but do you think you can meet me? If you're not too busy?'
I won't be out of here for at least another hour. Ezra and Jessica want us to meet some of the pack though I'm tempted to leave this place and find Jace.
Regretfully, I type a quick response, slashing the image of his disappointed face from mind.
'I'm busy with something. We'll talk tomorrow.'
His response doesn't come right away. The three dots pop up but then stop. Almost two minutes later, and I'm drumming my fingers on the table with anxiousness when his reply chimes.
'Never mind. Sorry to bother you. Good night, Sky.'
The off-putting edge his reply drives into me has me fighting to remain seated. I feel it through our bond. A dull tingle that something isn't right.
This time, it has nothing to do with being in Lativa's territory.