Page 9 of Running with the Alpha’s Son (The Alpha’s Son #3)

“What is she thinking?” Jasper whispers to himself, barely audibly.

I take one step back down the stairs but he grabs my arm. I glance up at him and his expression is all concern.

“Shouldn’t we go say hi?” I ask.

“Wait,” he says.

Back over at the door, two security wolves have approached Aisha and are talking to her while subtly blocking her way into the party. She grows agitated as the conversation continues, gesturing to the party, shaking her head, looking at the unhelpful and unmoving faces watching this interaction unfold. Beside her Troy remains a step behind. He isn’t looking at the guards, he’s surveying the crowd, his eyes wide with fear, hands shoved in his pants pockets. He knows he’s stepped into a wolves’ den.

Brazenly, Aisha moves to step between the guards but they block her path, one putting his hand on her shoulder to coerce her backward. She shrugs him off, staring up at him with flared nostrils and furious eyes. Her mouth moves and I think she’s saying, “Get your hands off me.”

“We should do something,” I say. But Jasper isn’t moving. He’s watching the interaction with a clenched jaw.

“We can’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Humans are forbidden from attending pack events. Aisha knows that.”

The guards are walking Aisha back toward the door, their hands raised slightly to create a wall. Troy is saying something, half turned to leave. Maybe he’s telling Aisha it isn’t worth it, that they should go before something bad happens. But Aisha is still arguing her point.

Finally, when they’ve been backed up all the way to the entrance, Aisha looks up and over the guard’s meaty, padded shoulder, searching the crowd, looking for a friendly face, anyone to fight in her corner. No one steps forward.

I shake off Jasper’s arm and jump down the steps but I’m met by a thick wall of partygoers all turned to face the commotion. Between heads I catch a glimpse of Aisha throwing up her hands in frustration and defeat. With a huff she turns to go.

Elbows out, I push my way through the crowd, wanting to get to her before she’s back out on the street, before it’s too late. But I reach the doorway and it’s empty, the guards already repositioning themselves on either side. I lunge through the entrance, squinting as I hit the pavement, glancing in either direction. A few yards away, Aisha is sliding into the back of an Uber, closing the door, and before I can reach her, the car pulls away. I don’t even think she sees me as she’s driven past the restaurant.

I run a hand through my hair as I watch the car turn a corner and disappear. What just happened? Why didn’t I move sooner? How could I let those douchey guards treat Aisha that way? How could Jasper?

“Max?”

Behind me, Jasper is standing in the open door.

“She’s gone,” I say.

Jasper comes to stand at my back, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he says. “Troy wouldn’t have been welcome. If they’d stayed, things would have gotten uglier and I couldn’t have protected them. It’s better they left, for their own sake.”

I shake my head and bite my lip. “I don’t see how things could get any uglier.”

“Will you come inside?” Jasper asks.

I turn to face him. His eyes are shining with regret, deep with resolute sadness. Is this what being a figurehead for the pack means? Abandoning your real friends to save face. I know Jasper is only doing what he thinks is right for everyone involved. But how could he just stand by and let Aisha be treated that way?

“I need a minute,” I say. “I’ll meet you inside.”

Jasper swallows, nods, and leaves.

The sun is getting low and golden hour is casting Brooklyn in a copper glow. It should be beautiful—the air is warm for this time of year, the sky is clear, I should be excited to spend time with my mate. But after a whole forty minutes at this party, I’m ready to leave.

Behind me the music is thumping through the open door. And the alpha’s words are repeating in my head in time to the beat. It’s integral for the pack that I show up for them, to prove I have what it takes to lead, so the pack can come together and face the external forces who want to destroy our way of life. I can’t run away. But I’m also not sure what sort of leader lets their friends be ejected and does nothing to stop it from happening.

Thinking I’ll take a short walk, clear my head, I wander a little ways down the footpath. Beside the restaurant is a narrow alley, and standing in the alley, leaning against a brick wall in a pearl-colored dress, is Olivia.

She glances up and spots me. “You had enough of the party too?”

As I head into the alley the air becomes a little more chill. I shove my hands in my pockets and take a spot leaning on the wall opposite Olivia.

“It’s been a second,” I say. “How…how are things?”

Olivia’s head hangs low, a strand of brown hair falling over her eyes. “Not great,” she says.

“Mason says Morven’s been keeping Mia pretty busy.”

She huffs a bitter laugh. “More like imprisoned. You know he won’t even let her have her phone anymore? Says she needs to distance herself from negative influences. Meaning me.”

I shake my head. “That’s such bull.”

“You’re telling me. I’ve just about had it with all this old-school shit .” Olivia spits that last word. “That whole farce in there. Everyone pretending everything is all right. Drinking their little drinks and eating their tiny little canapés. I only came because my dad made me.”

“How is he about everything…Mia and you?”

“He’s fine mostly. My mom’s the one who’s been looking at me weird. Dad’s probably the only person who thinks it could be good for our packs—sort of like how they were going to mate Jasper off to strengthen the alliance or whatever.”

“He’s got a point.”

“It’s Morven though. Man, he’s such a dick.”

“I hear you.”

“I just wish I could see her, y’know? It’s like a chunk of me went with her. It’s mad painful. I guess you’d know something about what that’s like.”

“Yeah.” I rub my neck. “Maybe.”

She lifts her head and shifts her weight. “Must be all right now though. I saw you and Jasper in there shaking hands, doing your little dance. You’re one of them now.”

My turn to scoff. “I think I could go to about a million finishing schools and still not know the right thing to say.”

“Good,” she says, with a capital letter and a period at the end. “You gotta stay you. Hell, we’ve all gotta do what we gotta do, you know?”

Her lip twitches like she’s thinking hard about something.

“What are you gonna do?”

She narrows her eyes. “Dunno yet. Something.”

A slight breeze picks up, whirling a couple of leaves and a candy bar wrapper around.

When I look back Olivia is pushing off the wall. “I’m gonna get a drink. Can’t avoid the circus forever.” She makes toward the street. “You coming?”

“Yeah.”

As we walk back to the street, she glances down at my feet. “You got your dancing shoes on?”

I laugh. “Never leave home without them.”

A car is pulling up as we emerge from the alley and I’m shocked when the back doors open and my parents, glammed up to the nines, hop out. Mom is wearing a shimmering black dress embroidered with glistening beads, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wearing so much makeup. Dad is in a fitted charcoal suit, his top button undone, hair combed neatly into place.

“Whoa,” I say, and my parents turn, surprised to find their son gawking at them. “You guys look…amazing.”

Mom lifts her shoulder casually, as if to say I know. “Don’t look so surprised, kiddo. We were people once too.”

“How come you’re not inside enjoying the party?” Dad asks, wrapping a hand around Mom’s waist. Mom has a waist!

“I, uh, just needed a break.”

Olivia adjusts the straps of her dress beside me.

“Oh this is Olivia Castillo, Beta Salazar’s daughter.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Mom says.

“We were just getting some air,” Olivia says, smiling at my folks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. See you all inside?”

I nod and she heads in by herself, her shoulders back, her head high.

“You having a good time?” Mom asks once we’re alone. There’s concern in her eyes but also hope. This is the first major pack event they’ve been invited to and I don’t want to disappoint them.

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “You wanna go in?”

“Lead the way, son,” Dad says.

I head inside with my parents close behind me. The party has continued on as if nothing has happened. Music is blaring, lights are flashing, drinks are flowing. The crowd is dancing and laughing like they’re having the time of their lives. We’re barely over the threshold when Jasper appears.

“There you are,” he says.

“My parents are here.” I gesture to where Mom and Dad are standing, barely a foot inside the doorway, glancing around like kids in a candy store.

“I see.” Jasper steps toward them, hand outstretched, ready for shaking. “Mr. and Mrs. Remus. I’m so glad you could make it.”

Mom blushes beneath her foundation. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Swell party,” Dad says and even he cringes at his use of the word swell . “That is…I mean…happy birthday!”

“Yes happy birthday,” Mom echoes.

“Thank you,” Jasper says, a polite nod of the head. “Please help yourselves to drinks and food. I hope you enjoy your night.”

Jasper is in his element. He’s so polite and polished—the perfect host, modest and welcoming, and not overeffusive like I probably would be.

“Come on,” I say to Mom and Dad. “Let’s get you a miniquiche and a cocktail.” I turn to Jasper. “Go mingle. I’ll get them settled in then come find you.”

“Okay,” Jasper says, then leaning closer so only I can hear, adds, “is everything fine?”

I push out a smile. “Perfect.”

Doing my best to ignore the occasional sideways glance and the waves I receive from complete strangers who must recognize me—that’s new!—I lead my parents over to the bar. Dad orders a beer and Mom some unnaturally blue-colored cocktail. I shoot her an unconvinced look and she shrugs.

“What? I never get to have cocktails. Let me live.”

My eyes roll back in my head but I can’t help smiling. She’s living her best life and honestly I’m here for it.

“Max! There you are.” Katie pushes her way through the crowd. “Mrs. Remus you look stunning!”

Mom performs a little twirl, ending with a flourish of her hand. “Thank you, Katie.”

Dad makes a strange coughing sound.

“You too, Mr. Remus,” Katie says accommodatingly.

“Well, thank you,” Dad says, bending at the waist in a little bow.

“And you too, Katie,” Mom says. “That dress is gorgeous.”

Katie is wearing a pastel-green dress that hugs the curves of her torso then flows in a straight line to the ground. She does look great.

“Where are the twins?” I ask.

“Can I speak with you?” Katie doesn’t wait for an answer before she grabs my elbow and pulls me away.

“What’s up?” I say once we’re out of my parents’ earshot. Back at the bar they stand awkwardly, like they’ve forgotten how to behave in public, watching the party and sipping their drinks too quickly. “I probably shouldn’t leave them alone for too long.”

“It’s Todd and Simon,” Katie says, suddenly distraught.

“What’s wrong?”

“They…they’re dancing with other girls.”

“Where? I haven’t seen them all evening.”

“There’s more party upstairs, you haven’t been up yet?”

“No, I haven’t made it that far.”

“Well they’re up there and they’re…” Tears spring to her eyes.

“Hey.” I take her by the shoulders and turn her so she’s facing away from the throng. “I’m sure it’s just dancing.”

She crosses her arms with a huff and sticks out her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Why? Did—did something happen?”

Before a tear can ruin her mascara Katie holds a finger up to her eyelid to wipe the errant betrayer away. “Todd told me he—he kissed some girl from his school.”

“Oh.”

“He said he thought he was allowed to because of the whole polyam thing.” Poor Katie. It seems her pups might need a little more training. “I told him that’s not how it works, that it’s not some free-for-all buffet, and he said I was being unreasonable.”

“I see.”

“And now they’re both up there dancing with different girls.”

I glance at the stairs, imagining the scene happening on the second floor. “They’re still your mates, that has to count for something.”

“Maybe.” Her anger turns to sulking.

I wish I knew how to help but her situation is more complicated than I have the bandwidth to comprehend. “You probably just need to talk to them and set some boundaries, no?”

She sniffs back her tears and shakes the pout from her face. “Ugh, you’re probably right. Would you come up with me?”

Over at the bar my parents have found another couple to talk to and they look happily engaged, chatting away like they’re with old friends. Socializing is just like riding a bike, I guess. “Sure,” I say.

On the second floor the party continues much the same, only a smaller bar is on the opposite side of the room, and tables have been pushed back against the exposed brick walls to make space for the crowd of dancing wolves. Glass doors lead onto a terrace with a view of the East River and Manhattan.

“See?” Katie says, death-staring at her mates, who are both manhandling a couple of wolfgirls. “Come on.”

Before I know what’s happening, Katie has taken me by the hand and led me into the middle of the dance floor. She wraps one arm around my neck and places her free hand on my waist and moves to the music, swaying her hips and spinning while I do my best to keep up with her. But I’m not much of a dancer, especially not when I know so many people are watching me, trying to get a sense of who Jasper’s mate is.

Her plan seems to be working, however, because very slowly her mates start to notice us. A glance over a shoulder at first. Then Simon is spinning his partner so he can face Katie for a better look. She leans her back against my chest, moving against me, and I play along as best I can.

Todd is the first to break away, abandoning his partner and coming to take Katie’s hand. Simon is quick to react—the second Todd moves on Katie he’s there as well. I quickly feel like the meat in a Max-and-Katie sandwich of which Todd and Simon are the bread, so I slip away, wondering how red in the face I am. Katie’s plan seems to have worked: her mates have forgotten all about the girls they were dancing with and instead have closed ranks on either side of her. It feels like a Band-Aid over a larger issue but I suppose it’ll do for now, and I’m glad I could be of service.

I search for any sign of Jasper but don’t see him so decide to head back downstairs. The fuzz surrounding my brain has started to feel firmer, the storm clouds full and ready to burst. Strikes of lightning erupt, causing sharp pricks of pain. With an inhale I try my best to hoist my mental guards back in place.

Back on the ground floor, I immediately run into Mom and Dad, who are dancing up a storm, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. They wave at me like a couple of teenagers as I approach, and I can’t help thinking it’s kind of adorable.

“Have you seen Jasper?” I ask and they both shake their heads.

“You tried upstairs?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, I thought he’d be down here.”

“I’m sure he’s somewhere,” Mom says, super helpful.

Just then both my parents stop dancing and the smiles drop from their faces. Even though we’re inside I feel as if a cloud has just blocked out the sun, and the noise in my head is overcome by one singular presence. I turn and come face-to-chest with Jericho.

“Alpha,” I say, bowing my head slightly.

“Hello, Max.” Jericho shifts his gaze to behind me. “These must be your parents.”

I spin back to find my parents standing completely still, arms pressed at their sides. They’re freaking.

“Alpha, sir, your honor,” Dad stammers and bows. “It’s such a pleasure.” He nudges Mom, who has yet to bow and is instead staring wide-eyed up at the alpha, gently in the ribs and she immediately curtsies.

“Yes,” Mom says to the ground. “We’re delighted to be invited.”

“Please,” Jericho booms, his voice cutting through the music. “There is no need for such formalities.”

Mom and Dad return to their upright positions and Jericho slaps a hand on my shoulder, knocking the wind out of me.

“After all,” he continues, “we’re family now.”

“So gracious,” Mom says in awe, then slaps Dad’s chest with the back of her hand. “Isn’t he gracious?”

“Uh, yes, very,” Dad says, about as bemused as I am at how Mom is staring at the alpha.

“I must apologize for the vandalism done to your property,” Jericho says, unbothered, clearly used to being stared at.

“It needed a new paint job anyway,” Mom says, giggling.

“We are working on finding the culprit and mending the cracks within our pack that would allow such distasteful actions to occur.” Jericho’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “Max will be very important to the future of the pack. I’m glad he has parents like you to guide him. We’re all very lucky.”

“Well, we’re very proud,” Mom says. “And Jasper seems like a lovely boy.”

“Yes,” Dad agrees. “A little high-strung maybe.”

This time it’s Mom who elbows Dad in the ribs, only she’s not as gentle.

“Oof, I mean—that is to say”—Dad stumbles over his words—“he takes his role very seriously.”

Jericho waits a beat, nodding ever so subtly. “He does. Now my daughter is around here somewhere. If you’ll excuse me I need to make sure she hasn’t gotten to the cake before it’s been cut.”

“Yes of course,” Mom says, almost curtsying again but stopping herself and instead shooting the alpha her most winning smile.

Once Jericho is gone they both breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“He’s very impressive,” Mom says, fanning herself, while Dad rubs the back of his neck the same way I do. Guess that’s where that comes from.

“He cuts quite the figure,” Dad says. Is he a little red in the face as well?

Now that that minute of torture is done I really need to find Jasper. “Are you guys fine if I go?”

They nod and encourage me to enjoy the party. “We’re fine,” Mom says, in a way that makes me think I’m the one cramping their style. Okay you two, have fun, don’t get into too much trouble.

As I search the party for Jasper the noise presses in harder and more aggressively than before. My head swims and my legs are unsteady. I climb the stairs, assuming Jasper must have slipped onto the next floor while I was talking with my folks. By the time I reach the top I’m out of breath and dizzy. I grit my teeth and swallow back a wave of nausea. Then my eye catches on a familiar face—a long, slender nose, a wide forehead, an impressive swoop of formerly blond hair now turned gray—and the pain hits me like an ice pick.

Walter Bridgers is standing across the room talking to Stefan and Maria Lykos, one hand tucked into the pocket of his suit trousers, the other clasped between two buttons of his waistcoat. He has a snide upturn in the corners of his mouth, a smug, entitled grin that looks too much like his son’s.

Why is he here? I assumed after what Clayton did his whole family would have been demoted or excommunicated.

Why is the father of my attacker at Jasper’s birthday party?