Page 3

BELL LANE

Pember

By the time they reached Bell Lane, Pember’s breathing was only just beginning to settle.

He stared at the two-up two-down end terrace house, with its dusty path, sandstone bricks and empty hanging baskets.

The windows were a little grimy, and the wooden shutters had seen better days, but it was his for the time being.

There were three in the row, each of them practically identical save for their different coloured doors. Pember’s was blue, the middle purple, and the far end green.

Sweat prickled his back. What’d he done? What the bloody hell had he done? He’d left the only home he’d ever known, abandoned his mother and worst of all… stolen the fucking dog . Bailey’s tail tapped against his leg as they stood at the bottom of the steps.

“Here we are,” Oliver said, unloading Mina from the car seat. “I forgot how nice it is here, Pem. What’s the crime rate like in these parts?”

Pember swallowed. “The… Pardon?”

Oliver’s gaze softened as he squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing. Stick the kettle on? I’m parched.”

“Sure,” he replied, glad for something to do.

The cello felt heavier as he pulled it out of the car, the earlier rush of adrenaline having well and truly worn off. He frowned, eyes trailing over the brand new 4x4. “How’s the new car?” he said, realising for the first time they were not travelling in Oliver’s usual yellow Citroen C2.

Oliver huffed. “I asked the in-laws for a toaster for my thirtieth birthday, but they bought me a Jag. Didn’t want me driving the kids around in the Yellow Peril anymore.”

Pember nodded solemnly. Oliver loved that car.

Mina giggled and cooed at Bailey as Oliver placed her down on Pember’s threadbare sofa. He stood in the middle of the turquoise lounge, eyes flitting around the near-empty room in silent appraisal. “You really didn’t bring much, did you?”

Pember flushed, pulling two chipped mugs out of the cupboard. It was a sad and embarrassing fact that whilst he’d planned his escape for several weeks, he’d barely had the time, or the money, to purchase anything that might make the place a bit homier.

He had a sofa, a small TV, Oliver’s old table, a few things for the kitchen and a second-hand bed that he’d bought on an online marketplace.

The shed at the bottom of the garden had clearly been used as a shifter hut at some point, with its rusty heating lamp and exposed dirt floor, but now it was filled with ancient gardening equipment.

All in all, he had very little to call his own.

“I… um… I know. I didn’t really know what to buy, I’ve never lived by myself. Even when I went to uni I commuted back and forth by train.”

Oliver hummed, his eyes drifting to the corner of the room. “Is that a guitar?” he said, pointing to the tatty black hard case that Pember had propped against the wall.

Pember shook his head, pouring them both a cup of tea.

“Cello.” A pang of guilt tightened his belly.

Apart from his clothes, the cello was one of the few things he’d brought from home.

Despite not having played in years, he just couldn't bear the thought of leaving it behind. “It’s my sister’s really. ”

Oliver nodded. “What about work? Has your uniform arrived?”

Pember brightened at that, shuffling over to the table and holding up the unopened parcel. “It came yesterday. I’ve been too nervous to try it on.”

Oliver patted his arm. “Open it. See what you think.”

Letting out a breath, Pember nodded and took a knife from the drawer.

Slicing open the plastic wrapper, he took out five black T-shirts that had Forensic Services embroidered in blue over the left breast. The T-shirt was followed by black trousers with pockets on the sides, and combat boots.

His mother would have thrashed him if she’d found out he’d quit his apprenticeship at PharmaBright. The one she’d insisted he take.

Oliver placed his cup on the table and bumped their shoulders together. “I know it’s not what you want long-term, but it’ll open all sorts of doors for you, Pem. The CSIs are a good bunch, and you’ll learn a lot from them. Plus, the pension is decent and there’s always overtime if you want it.”

Pember shook his head, putting the uniform back in the bag. “It’s not that. I’m actually really excited, I just…” The words trickled away as he took a sip of tea.

“Pem?”

Sighing, he said, “My mum. She’ll hit the roof when she finds out I quit my placement.”

Oliver squeezed his shoulder. “About your mum… How she behaves, you know that’s not normal, right?”

Pember held up a hand. “I-I know, but she’s going through so much. After my sister, she just?—”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Lost the fucking plot?”

Pember shrugged. “It’s not her fault.”

A brief silence stretched between them, until Oliver cleared his throat.

“Pem, all the shit she does, you know that’s just a way of controlling you, right?

This past year it’s made you a nervous wreck.

” When Pember didn’t reply, Oliver drained his mug and ran it under the tap. “Anyway, what’re your neighbours like?”

When Pember looked up, he saw a playful grin stretching over Oliver’s face.

“I… I don’t know, I haven’t met them yet.

I know an elderly lady lives next door. She’s an alpha, I think.

She has the TV really loud and she must have a bird or something.

I’ve heard it squawking a few times. Next to her there’s a guy, but I’ve only ever seen his car.

I think he works a lot, judging by the parcels that get stacked up on his doorstep. ”

Oliver gave a slow nod, followed by a contemplative hum. “You know,” he said, looking through the back window, “I’ve heard there are some decent woodland trails at the back of these houses. Why don’t you take Bailey for a walk? Clear your head? Maybe you could shift, if you’re feeling up to it?”

Pember took another sip of tea. “That sounds nice, actually. But I… I haven’t shifted in so long, I’ll probably trip over my own feet or something.”

Oliver shrugged. “Or it might be like riding a bike. If you’re feeling nervous, you could always tag along with the pack at the weekend? Alfie would love to run with you again.”

Pember swallowed. The last time he’d shifted had been the previous year with Oliver’s pack.

He’d run with Oliver, his adopted son, Alfie, and Oliver’s twin brother, Matteus.

Their alpha mates had stayed at home, no doubt sensing that he was nervous as hell.

He’d had to scrub himself from head to toe before returning home, lest his mother pick up on the scent.

Just then, Mina scrunched her face up and started crying. “Well, that’s my cue,” Oliver said, scooping her up in his arms. “She gets tetchy when she’s away from Daddy for too long, isn’t that right, babycakes?” He blew a raspberry against her neck, and she giggled through the tears.

“R-right,” Pember said, suddenly hating the thought of being alone. “Will I see you on Monday, Ollie? At work, I mean?”

Oliver nodded. “Once you’re settled I’ll pop over with Lucas. You nervous?”

He flushed, letting out a breath. “Yeah.”

Oliver smiled, patting Mina’s bum as she gurgled against his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Wallace is awesome, Maya’s a sassy bitch and Duncan’s just a bit of a prat, but a harmless prat. With brains like yours you’ll be running the ship in no time.”

Oliver wasn’t wrong; technically speaking, he was overqualified for the job. He remembered how the sweet little old lady in recruitment had squinted at him over the top of her glasses. “You have a master’s degree in mathematics and biochemistry, is that right, Mr McArthur?”

Pember had nodded and given a polite smile. “Yes, but outside of the test environments at university, my practical experience is limited.”

The lady had nodded and turned back to his CV.

“You’ve read the job description, yes? You realise that as an entry level SOCO, your duties will mostly be analysing toxicology samples, collecting histology tissue from post-mortems, photographing crime scenes and producing drink drive reports for the courts? ”

Pember nodded, trying his best to look confident.

Two weeks later he’d received a formal job offer and a training package from West Newton Constabulary, a full-time position as a Scenes of Crime Officer.

Then, a week after that he’d quit his apprenticeship at PharmaBright and blown a good portion of his meagre savings on a down payment for his rental.

All in all, escaping his mother had cost him everything.

When Oliver said his goodbyes, Pember’s brain began sinking into its usual pit of despair. Bailey pawed at the door, hackles raised and impatient to be let out. He knew how she felt.

Shuffling from foot to foot, he started to tug off his clothes and set them on top of the washing machine.

It had turned into a beautiful afternoon.

The sun was high and the air was crisp, and there really was no reason for him not to shift.

But… images of his mum still flashed through his mind like slides on an old projector.

Shaking his head, he pulled his jeans and navy jumper back on and grabbed the tie he’d worn for his interview as a makeshift lead. In wolf form, he could have easily kept up with Bailey, but as a human… Well, she really did take the piss sometimes.

“Come on, my girl. Let’s go for a walk and figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

Bailey barked, her lips pulling back in a canine smile as she pushed against the front door. Maybe some fresh air would do them both good.

Pember’s trainers were not equipped to deal with the damp undergrowth blanketing the woodland at the back of his house.

He’d had to leave his beloved walking boots at his mum’s, because they’d have been the first thing she would have noticed missing.

However, despite his wet feet and Bailey’s incessant need to sniff every tree in sight, Pember found his brain beginning to settle with every unsteady step.

Plodding up a steep bank, he scaled a verge and found a lovely little copse of trees.

The sweet scent of apples drifted into his nose, and for the first time in a long time he felt at ease.

He already knew the approaching night would plague him with bad dreams, so, tipping his head back, he let the temporary sense of calm wash over him.

Maybe he could do this. Perhaps he could strike out on his own.

An omega, alone and without a mate. If the last twelve months had proven anything, it was that he was nowhere near ready to dive back into the dating world, let alone pursue anything more.

His mother had pushed him, and pushed him, and pushed him to find a mate.

But, as time went on he’d realised it was just another form of control.

Find him someone awful so he’d go crawling back when it all went tits up.

Shaking the thoughts away, he ambled through the copse, breaking the tree-line and emerging onto another grassy bank. He sniffed, vaguely aware of his omega wolf standing to attention. There was a scent in the air, something deep, and smooth, and… melancholy. Like wilting lilies in a vase.

He followed it, cresting the brow of the hill and gazing down at the town below.

West Newton. It was a strange place, with its little pockets of activity interspersing the acres upon acres of farmland.

It was not a town one might expect to find much opportunity, but if the recent sex trafficking scandal had taught him anything, it was never to take a place at face value.

Inhaling again, he scanned the hillside for the source of the scent, eyes falling upon a dark clothed figure in the distance.

A person. A man, standing dangerously close to the edge of a sheer drop.

Pember squinted. From what he could see, the man had his hands in his pockets with his head tipped back, looking somewhere between the sky and the middle distance.

Stumbling forwards, Pember brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright late-morning sunshine.

Before he even realised it, his feet were carrying him in the direction of the scent and the man he assumed was connected to it.

It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw the side of the man’s face, his tense jaw tipped up slightly, eyes half hooded and despondent.

He looked hopeless, like he’d just received the worst news in the world.

The wind was picking up, but still the man didn’t move from the edge. Doesn’t he know he could get blown over? Doing so would send him tumbling down and down and down until he was nothing but a pulpy mess in the middle of the tracks.

Tracks? There are no tracks.

Pember broke into a run, sprinting across the brow of the hill. The man was so close, he could probably yank him back if he chose that moment to drop forwards. Bailey yapped, nipping at Pember’s heels, and the man’s head titled at the sound.

“ You’ll remember me, won’t you, Pem? I’m glad you’re here, with me… at the end. ”

Scrunching his eyes shut, he ran at the man, full tilt, grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around.

The grab was so violent that the man’s shoulder smashed into Pember’s face with enough force to rattle his teeth.

The man reeled back, then forwards as the rocks beneath his feet crumbled and clattered.

“What the—” he shouted, as Pember reached up and grabbed his other shoulder, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Don’t do it! Please don’t do it!” Pember cried, trying to hold the man’s arms to prevent him from rolling over the edge.

The man only flailed, quickly getting the better of Pember with his greater weight and height.

Pember was slammed onto his back with the man towering over him on one knee.

Fresh mud coated the stranger's black tracksuit as he grabbed Pember’s coat in a tight fist, pinning him roughly to the hard, damp ground.

His bearing was unmistakable—tall, strong and exuding a raw, primal energy that could have only made him an alpha. The man’s features were all angles—deep brows, sharp jaw, even sharper canines, topped by a mess of tawny brown hair.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled, voice rough as he leaned down to twist his fist tighter into the front of Pember’s coat.

“I-I-I…” he stuttered, feeling as though his tongue had been nailed to his back teeth.

The alpha snarled, and time seemed to stop as Pember stared up at his eyes—one blue, the other green.