Page 98

Cameron

D inner was delicious, even after having dessert earlier.

Gael had nearly thrown a tantrum when he’d come out and seen the dirty cake plates, but Mom had silenced him with a massive serving of molé and rice and beans.

We talked and laughed together, eating dinner and then more dessert afterward.

Well, more for me and Mom. Gael tried to talk his way into seconds since we’d already had some, but it had been no good.

“You get ready for bed, little man,” Mom said, shooing him down the hall.

“Ugh,” Gale groaned. “Fine.”

A few minutes later, we heard the shower running. While doing the dishes, Mom nodded toward me. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” I said.

“Hmm.” She gave me a distrustful look, as if she didn’t believe me.

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” I said, drying the dishes as she handed them to me.

The apartment hadn’t come with a dishwasher, or even a spot to put one if we’d had the money to purchase it. The tiny kitchen barely had enough room for the meager things we did have.

“Do you want me to stay up with you?” Mom asked.

“I’m exhausted,” I said. “I’ll pass out as soon as I get in bed. Thanks, though.”

That turned out to be a lie. After I helped Mom tuck Gael in and gave her a hug and kiss goodnight, I took a shower and fell into bed, ready to pass out. Instead, I stared at the ceiling, my mind whirling too much to sleep.

After tossing and turning for half an hour, I got up and paced my room, gnawing at my thumbnail until it was ragged. During my shower, a thought had burrowed into my mind and nested there. The damn thing was like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

I glanced at my phone on my nightstand. Was he awake? It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. There was a possibility that he might not have gone to bed yet. Even if he had, then at least I could tell myself I’d sent the message.

“Just fucking do it ,” I hissed at myself.

Before I could chicken out, I snatched up the phone and began typing.

After a few lines, I took a deep breath and hit send.

Once the message was out in the airwaves, I let out a shuddering breath.

How would he react? Would he be mad? Confused?

Maybe he’d simply ignore it. Either way, I’d figure out how to deal with what he said tomorrow—if he replied.

Feeling better, I sat on the edge of my bed. The pack hearing was tomorrow, and I desperately needed sleep to be ready. As I reached over to put my phone up, it buzzed, nearly making me jump.

I know a great 24-hour bakery. I’ll be by your place soon with some treats. We can talk.

“Oh, no, no, no, no…” I kept muttering the words as I typed out a response.

Me: You don’t have to do that. Seriously. Tomorrow is fine.

Already on my way. Hope you like pastries. They have a great chocolate croissant.

I pursed my lips, cursing myself for being so stupid. Apparently, sleep was in short supply all around. He would be at this hearing, too. I should have assumed he’d have a hard time sleeping.

“Well, shit,” I muttered as I got up.

I had no way of knowing how soon he’d be here, so I got dressed and went to wait in the living room. The last thing I needed was for him to pound on the door and wake up Mom and Gael.

Twenty minutes later, a light tap sounded at the door. I swallowed hard and took a steadying breath as I checked the peephole. There he was, holding a white pastry box under one arm. Sighing, I quietly opened the door and let JC into my apartment.

“Good evening,” he said with a grin.

“Hey,” I muttered.

He strode over to the kitchen table, putting the box down and flipping the lid open.

“Oh,” I said, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t lying.”

Over a dozen items sat in the box. For the most part, I only knew the names of them from watching cooking and baking shows with Mom. The Great British Bake Off was our favorite. There were croissants, macarons, eclairs, chocolate-dipped madeleines, cream puffs, and a few things I didn’t recognize.

“Are you trying to give me diabetes?” I asked.

“Late at night, junk food doesn’t quite hit the same as French pastry,” JC said. “It’s not all dessert, though.”

He lifted a tiny insert that separated the top of the box from the lower portion. Inside was a small loaf of French bread, along with some cheeses and spreads.

I pointed at a small tin. “Is that paté?”

“Indeed it is.” He was keeping his voice low, respecting the fact that my family was asleep. “Grab a plate. We can eat and talk. Can you grab three extra plates, though? I want to give some to the guys watching over your place.”

“Three? I only saw two.”

JC grinned. “That’s the two you were supposed to see.”

After putting some food on the plates, he went out to give them to the guy in the hall. The kind gesture touched me. JC was basically the king of Toronto and Ottawa. He didn’t have to do that for the men working for him, but it showed how much he cared about his people and pack.

Once we were settled in the living room, JC said, “So… Nate?”

I paused, a piece of cheese and bread halfway to my mouth.

“That was why you texted me, right?” JC asked with a half-grin. “To ask about getting him into the pack?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I have to tell you, I was not anticipating you answering tonight. You’ve sort of caught me off-guard.”

JC sighed and popped a macaron into his mouth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a pretty important subject for you, and I thought we should get this conversation out of the way as soon as possible.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “Since you’re here, what do you think about him joining? I know what the laws say, but can’t you make some kind of exception?”

“It’s a lot to get into, but it boils down to two basic laws,” JC explained.

“One more or less states that changing packs should be difficult. The thought was this would help strengthen and stabilize packs as well as keep things homogenized and safe. The other is the illegalization of allowing lone wolves into packs and the legal ostracization of feral or near-ferals. There are checks and balances that would technically allow a lone wolf in, but that’s tough to get.

You’d need a hell of a lot of people on your side.

That being said, I do still think we have a good chance of getting Nate in if all this investigation works out. ”

“That’s good to hear, I guess. It sounds like things aren’t easy to change,” I said with a sigh.

JC stared at me for a few beats. “You guys met a woman named Anita, right?”

I blinked at him, confused by the change of subject, then nodded. “Yeah. Ollie knows her. She gave us some intel on Lincoln Masters.”

“Did you see the scar on her face?”

Of course I had. The jagged line that ran across her jaw marred what was otherwise a beautiful face.

“I did.”

JC ran his tongue along his lips and let out a sigh. He looked physically pained to discuss this. My journalist instincts kicked into gear, making me curious about where this story was going.

“Anita is a victim of the backwards laws we shifters have. The packs have made it difficult for people to live their lives the way they want.” He rubbed his jaw, then pinned me with his intense gaze.

“Anita was bonded to a male. Her mate. Their relationship was fine at first, but it soon turned violent. He’d smack her around, talk to her like she was worthless, and rape her.

” Heat rose in his face, and his eyes turned dark.

“What’s most fucked up is that one of her only outlets to get away is to leave the pack. ”

“But if she leaves, wouldn’t that make her a lone wolf?” I asked.

“It would,” JC sighed. “At that point, pretty much no pack would take her in. So, you see, the entire structure forced her to remain with the guy. You haven’t been a shifter long and didn’t grow up learning the stigma that comes from that.

It’s what makes Nate brave in my eyes. In our world, being without a pack is almost worse than death. It’s a terrifying possibility.”

“But he was abusing her,” I argued. “Isn’t getting away from that better than staying?”

“You would think,” JC said, clenching his fists.

“But it’s drilled into our heads from birth that you never leave your pack—and that was even before the laws were enacted.

The last twenty or thirty years have made it worse.

Anita was too terrified to leave. One night, her mate truly snapped.

He shifted and attacked her. Bit her in the face.

Shifters heal pretty fast and rarely end up with scars, but an injury from a bonded mate is different.

That finally sealed the deal. She needed to leave. ”

“How did she join the Detroit pack, then?” I asked, frowning.

“She came to me. Begged me to help her and her young son. I’ve known Anita for a long time.

She’s a few years older than me, but…” He glanced up as he trailed off, meeting my eyes for a moment, and I understood before he even spoke.

“I’d always cared for her, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, she knew I was the only one who could help her.

I used up pretty much every favor I had to get her released from our pack and accepted into the Detroit pack.

Even then, I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get it done.

Her mate would have killed her next if I didn’t, and I was not going to let that happen. ”

I frowned. “So you couldn’t snap your fingers and, like, transfer her or whatever? Even though you’re the alpha?”

JC shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Again, the laws. I understand why they were enacted. A feral attacking an alpha’s mate sent shockwaves through our world.

I get it, but I think we went too far. Most people aren’t lone wolves by choice.

They’ve been pushed to the limit for some reason.

An abusive parent, a violent loved one, simple bad choices.

None of those things should be a death sentence.

“Being a lone wolf is a one-way trip to becoming feral. For some, it happens fast. For others like Nate, it takes a while, but eventually they all succumb. I want to change that.”

“Change the laws?” I asked, intrigued by his insinuation.

“Yes. I’ve begun laying the groundwork. Slipped in a few comments here and there when talking with the elders. Made my opinions known so that no one is surprised by it when I make my play for change.”

It all sounded complex and difficult. JC was a capable man, and I thought that if anyone could get it done, he could, but how long would it take?

Would Nate be left out in the cold for years while the wheels of change ground on at an incremental pace?

By the time JC was successful, Nate might have already turned feral.

Imagining him becoming some slavering mad beast like Lenny Nash broke my heart.

“What are the odds Nate can get accepted?” I asked, a tiny flame of desperation kindling in my chest.

JC held my gaze for a moment. “Not great.”

My face must have betrayed my emotions, because he held up a hand.

“I said, ‘Not great.’ That doesn’t mean impossible.” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Has, uh, well, has Nate discussed joining the pack with you? Like, has he mentioned wanting to join?”

“What?” I asked, my frown deepening. “Oh, no. Of course not. From what he’s said in the past, he hates packs. I’m sure it stems from the bigotry about him being a lone wolf. But I think, given the opportunity, he would.”

“Uh-huh,” JC said, nodding slowly. “Interesting.”

A slight, introspective grin formed on his face. Something about his demeanor made me think he knew something I didn’t, but I had no idea what it might be. Before I could ask, he changed the subject.

“The hearing tomorrow? Are you ready for it?” he asked.

“I think so. I’ve got quite a few files ready to present.”

“Have you managed to find anything linking the Masters family to the Toronto drug trade? That seems to be the missing link for all this. Right now, even if we could prove Lincoln had traded in drugs years ago in Detroit, he could chalk it up to youthful mistakes. As far as anyone knows, he’s been a fucking boy scout since he joined the Toronto-Ottawa pack. ”

“Not yet,” I said. “But I’ve sent some emails and texts to a few of my colleagues at The Chronicle .

I think they may have found some stuff. The office is obviously closed now, but I thought I’d head there to log in and see what they’ve found.

I’d have time before the hearing. Hopefully, they have something that will stick.

“There are a few things in the confidential server at the office. Stories that are deemed too tenuous to publish. Journalists deal in verifiable facts. Some stories never get far enough to publish, but they might have enough info to be used as proof for this hearing.”

“That sounds great, but”—he held up a finger—“don’t go alone.

Make sure you let one or two of the guys outside tail you.

The hearing isn’t until ten, so you should have plenty of time.

I don’t want you wandering around the city unguarded.

If Lincoln tries anything, it’ll be tomorrow.

My sources say he’s pissed and stressed about this hearing.

A dog backed into a corner is the most dangerous. ”

“Oh, for sure,” I said. “Not a chance I’d go alone.”

“Good to hear,” JC said.

I glanced around the apartment, wondering how best to broach the next topic. Finally, I let the words tumble from my mouth.

“You said it would be hard to get Nate into the pack right now, correct?”

“I did,” JC said slowly.

“Well, I had a thought. Something that might help things along.”

JC lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward again. “Yes?”

A thought had percolated in my mind ever since discovering how Nate’s parents died. If that wreck had happened inside Toronto pack lands, then there was a good chance they might have been members.

“Do you, by chance, recognize the names Jacob and Rosa Bishop?” I asked, doing my best not to cross my fingers.

JC’s smile vanished. “Excuse me?”

Excitement and hope flickered in my heart.

“Jacob and Rosa Bishop. I’m certain they were Nate’s parents. They died when he was little, and…”

I trailed off, noticing that JC was gaping at me.

“Are you serious?” he finally asked.

“Uh… yeah,” I said, suddenly nervous. His reaction was a little confusing. “Is that a bad thing?”

The smile returned to JC’s face. “Not bad, no. In fact, I think whatever plan you have is going to work out just fine.”

As he explained everything to me, my jaw slowly fell open. Shock and exhilaration… that was all I could feel as he spoke.

JC was right. If my idea didn’t work now, it never would.