Page 7 of The Last Wish (Lost Legacy #1)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

GIDEON

W hoever picked this song should die.

The only thing getting me through this bullshit waste of time is a fantasy of me planting my foot in the dusty ass speaker and punting it across the room. Anything to end the tinny twang of the classic country deep cuts. Each one is worse than the last.

I just want to go home.

Instead, I'm stuffed into an old, grimy booth with scarred wood and frayed vinyl seats. My legs don't fucking fit, and I’m worried if I stretch too much, I'm going to crack the rickety thing in half. To make matters worse, the floor is wet, the beer is sour, and every time I turn my head to the right, there’s a smell that makes my eyes water.

My mood is so bad I’ve been sidelined.

Cal ordered me to stay in this booth and stop making eye contact. I bitched about it but agreed, mainly because I know he’s right. Just last week, I would have been all over this investigation, but now all I want to do is get back to Sheena... or break something. Knowing she deserves answers is the only thing keeping me in this booth.

So I sip my piss poor beer in silence like a good soldier and watch Callum work the room. He’s using his influence to make the workers and regulars more likely to answer his questions. Part of me wants to pull my phone out and record him because this shit is actually hilarious. Callum is stronger than normal thanks to the energy boost he got from Sheena. While that sounds great on paper, he’s not used to the extra juice, so he’s going too hard.

People keep touching him. I’ve seen half a dozen men and women grope his ass, squeeze his arms, or rub his back. One of the half naked waitresses even slipped him her panties. As soon as her back was turned, he tossed them in a trashcan, his jaw so tense he could crack a tooth. I laughed so hard I snorted beer up my nose.

He fucking hates it.

Even though I’m distracted, I know the moment he learns something worth knowing. Callum straightens up and sends a powerful wave of influence towards the already glassy-eyed bartender. Their conversation lasts another five minutes, then he peels her off of his arm and pays the tab. She blinks with confusion as he walks away but doesn’t stop him.

It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for, so I untuck myself from the booth and trail after him, leaving my unfinished pint behind. I only hope the information leads us to someone I can shred. Then we can go home.

Callum is already in the driver's seat when I get to the SUV, so I hop in and buckle up, checking the glove compartment for my gun. I prefer to go in shifted, but it never hurts to be prepared. I’m expecting him to start talking and driving immediately, but the only sound in the cab is the slide of my magazine as I check my weapon over.

“Well? What did she say?” I finally ask, jamming the full clip back into place.

“Two of their staff members are missing.” Callum’s voice shakes with anger. “Bartender was going to leave it at that, but I could tell she knew more. The owner sold those girls out for cash.”

He slams his palm into the steering wheel three times before he’s calm enough to say more. “The bartender—the blonde one—overheard where they took them and wanted to come clean, but she was too scared she'd find herself in a cage too if she said anything. She only talked because she heard about the alpha’s niece and didn’t want to catch a stray bullet for hiding what she knew.”

I’ve heard more than enough.

“Let’s torch the place.” I reach for the door handle, already imagining all the ways we can make the owner of this shit hole pay.

“You know we can’t do that.” Callum whips his head around to face me in the dark. He grabs my arm, and I barely hold in my growl. “Gideon, the bartender saw masks. ”

One word. That’s all it takes to throw my bones and tendons into chaos. Each one spasms. My entire body rocks with the urge to shift.

I tell myself anyone could wear masks, that it makes sense to hide your identity if you're involved in trafficking innocent people. Too bad logic doesn’t do a damn thing to help me chill.

I’ll tear them to pieces and piss on the remains. I’ll ? —

A rough punch to my shoulder rips me away from my thoughts of murder and revenge. I snarl, glaring at my friend in the dim light of the nearby bar. I try to convince myself it would be a bad idea to return the favor.

“Focus, man,” Callum snaps. “We don't know what we're walking into here, and our priority has to be saving those women. After we make that happen, we can hunt these fuckers down and get revenge for Sheena.”

We’ll burn them alive; make them beg for her forgiveness...

Absently, I hear grinding metal.

“Calm down or you’re useless to her.” Callum’s harsh words penetrate the red fog choking my brain, giving me time to suck in a deep breath. I hold it until my lungs are empty and my mind clears of everything but my need for fresh oxygen.

My eyes catch the ruined door handle. The metal is covered in claw marks.

Sheena deserves a better mate. Cal deserves a better partner.

I breathe in just enough to keep from blacking out and look down at the floor.

“Cut that shit out, too.” Callum threads his fingers roughly into my hair, yanking my head upright. “You don’t get to feel like shit over how hard you fight to protect.”

His black eyes sear mine. Combined with the tension on my scalp—I can’t fucking take the intensity anymore. It feels too much like my earlier rage.

“You telling me how to feel now, too? Bossy.” I joke to lighten the mood.

He immediately rolls his eyes, releasing my hair and cranking the engine. With one last look at the bar, he throws the SUV into gear and backs out.

“Put your fucking seatbelt on.”

I grin at his tone, clipping the buckle and looking up just in time to see a muscle tick in his jaw. The tiny movement reminds me just how angry he is about this too. My emotions may burn hotter than his, but I know better than to think he doesn’t have them.

As far as demons go, Cal is pretty laid back, but shit like this... It gets to him.

We live in a brutal world of power, greed, and blood. If you don’t have a supernatural leg up, you better be close to someone who does. It’s why I can’t truly blame the bartender for her cowardice. She’s just trying to survive.

Our enclave’s territory stretches from Colorado to Idaho, each foot carved out over decades of fighting. If we don’t defend these communities, we lose them. It’s that simple. These fuckers need to know they can't take our people and get away with it.

We stop about a mile from the coordinates the bartender overheard, grab our weapons, and share our location with the enclave just in case. We decide to go the rest of the way on foot and rely on our senses to warn us if anyone is nearby.

The field is covered with the type of grass that rustles noisily in the wind and hides a fuck ton of holes in the ground. We have to focus on our feet to avoid twisting an ankle. Still, we’re pretty quiet. The only sounds that break the silence are swishing grass and the occasional hoot of an owl.

After what feels like a lifetime of walking, a big barn appears in the darkness. There’s a soft glow emanating from the rough cracks in the walls, and the thing looks like it’s one strong kick away from returning to a pile of wood on the ground.

Callum’s night vision isn’t quite as good as mine. When he sends a questioning look at me, I shake my head. Even with my supernatural eyesight, I can't make out much more from here. I focus instead on what I can hear and smell, closing my eyes to remove distractions. With one sense removed, the others heighten.

A gust of wind blows our way, bringing with it the unmistakable stench of piss, shit, and unwashed bodies. I wrinkle my nose, separating the scents and trying not to gag. There are several types of shifter—all lower tiers. Now that I’ve isolated my targets, I can make out the rumble of multiple male voices. Two... no, three men, unless I missed someone, and the faint sound of a woman crying. My nostrils flair as a tremor rocks my body. This is definitely the place.

Time to crack some heads.

Opening my eyes, I hand Callum my pistol and strip off my sweats and t-shirt, stuffing them inside his backpack. When he claps his hand on my arm, my vision tunnels. By the time I get my rage under control, he’s leveling me with a concerned look.

He wants reassurance that I’m not going to do anything reckless.

I nod shortly, not sure I actually mean it, then funnel all my angry energy into shifting into a rat. While I'm not usually a fan of transforming into prey animals, my omni nature really comes in handy sometimes, especially in moments where I need to be stealthy.

Everyone would notice a lion. But a sniveling rodent? No one blinks twice. The only thing I have to worry about now is getting spotted by one of those owls we heard on the way in.

Wasting no time, I scurry towards the barn, feeling dirt beneath my paws and blades of grass brushing against my flanks. It takes all of thirty seconds to cross the field and find a crack in the wall to peek through.

Three men sit huddled around a bottle of whiskey and a dog-eared set of playing cards. There are several cheap skull masks lying on the ground near their feet. Bingo. My nose twitches. In this form, the stench is impossible to miss, but two of them smell like wolves to me. The third may be some kind of bird shifter, but the B.O. makes it hard to know for sure.

Their backs are turned to three captive women stuffed naked in a single dog kennel. Thankfully, they all appear to be alive.

Two seem like prey shifters, maybe rabbits or squirrels. Both are common enough in this area but often lack protection. They must be the missing bar employees. The third woman is slightly bigger than the other two, and she’s not acting scared. She’s angry.

The alpha wolf’s niece.

I'm about to go report my findings to Callum when one of the smaller shifters slumps against the side of the cage. Her scream rips through the night, loud, agonized, and raspy. With the way the others don’t even flinch, this isn’t the first time.

These assholes have electrified the cage.

The captives can't even rest without fear of immediate—totally fucking unnecessary—pain. The smallest woman curls herself in a tight ball, her muscles trembling as tears roll down her face. Laughter from the three shits playing cards drowns out her whimpers. I grind my teeth. They’ve sealed their fate.

Without another thought, I rush around the corner at a dead sprint, transforming from rat to lion mid-stride. My organs grow, my bones elongate, and the sharp pain that rips into me as I’m remade only fuels my rage.

As I crash through the barn door, I rip the heads from the shoulders of the first two vermin in my path with no resistance. My teeth and claws tear through their skin like butter.

Most colors are absent from my vision in this form, but every line is crisp as I sentence them to death for their crimes. I watch the life fade from their eyes with satisfaction, tasting iron from their blood on my tongue. When I turn to the sole survivor, urine runs down his leg.

Pathetic. He’s right to fear me. I am retribution.

I step toward the remaining trafficker. He’s looking around wildly, desperate for an escape route, but there’s nowhere to run. Instead of removing his guts and spreading them across the floor like I want to, I plant one massive paw against his throat and pin him to the ground. The color of his face changes depending on how hard I push. Pink, red, purple. When a blood vessel shatters in his left eye, I’m disappointed. He’s no match for me.

Callum curses behind me.

“Chill out. You're going to do brain damage.” He smacks me in the flank. My lion considers taking a bite out of him to teach him respect, but ultimately, we decide against it and flick him with our tail instead.

I reluctantly let up on the remaining shifter's throat. He’s out cold now, fresh blood and bruises mottling skin coated with old layers of dirt and grime. The women in the corner are weeping hysterically, terrified by the violence I just brought down on their behalf.

They’ll get over it . . . Probably.

“We need to get out of here.” Callum studies the inside of the barn with narrowed eyes. “This is just a drop point. Let’s help these women, then we’ll take this guy back to the compound for questioning.”

He’s in boring problem-solving mode now, so I just chuff in agreement, giving the shifter one last shove. I accidentally draw blood. Oops. I lift my paw gingerly, lick it clean, and then transform back into my human form.

Cal tosses me my clothes, and we make quick work of checking the barn for anything we may have missed. There’s nothing much here, just a few guns, some small wads of cash, and a handful of loose pills. I’m most interested in the abandoned masks, which we bag up.

“We’re here to help you, give you some safe options...” I hear Callum say as he gently leads the women out of the cage. I leave him to it. Of the two of us, he’s not quite as frightening, plus he’s got influence at his disposal if they start freaking out.

While he’s reassuring them they’re safe now, I stuff the prisoner into his new home, the electric dog kennel, and load it into the SUV. He’s still out cold, but he’s in for a rude dose of karma in a few hours.

Payback’s a bitch.

Two of the women ask to be returned to the same town they were taken from. We offer to relocate them somewhere safer, but they both say they'd be more comfortable where they came from. I don't get it, but I'm not here to argue. The third, the alpha’s niece, asks to use my phone. Her pack promises to pick her up from the bar.

Cal helps them to the car, handing them blankets to wrap around themselves. I try to be patient with their slow progress, but shit, I’m ready to go.

Once they’re settled, I torch the barn and we head out. Hopefully, this will send a message to the traffickers they won't be able to ignore.

Now that my adrenaline is wearing off, I can’t ignore the throbbing in my chest any longer. The unsealed bond isn't happy with how far I am from Sheena.

It also isn’t thrilled with how the female wolf shifter in the back seat keeps touching me. If she weren’t traumatized, I’d shut that shit down real quick. I don’t want to make her night any worse by biting her head off. But when she runs her hand over my shoulder for the tenth time, I’ve had enough.

“I’m taken,” I bark.

She recoils like I slapped her, a slight pout curling her lips. Her disappointment doesn’t last long, though. Within five minutes, she’s staring at Callum like water in the desert. He narrows his eyes at me in annoyance, but I just shrug, returning to my thoughts about Sheena and our bond.

It's way too soon to even think about making it permanent, especially since I haven't figured out how to explain the whole mate thing to her yet. I'm worried the ‘until death do us part’ bit will freak her out. If I just come right out and ask her to seal a bond more permanent than marriage, she’s going to run for it. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

I’ve only heard of one or two mated pairs in the world, and they're ancient even in supernatural terms. That's another thing we haven't talked to Sheena about. Most of us live a few hundred years with aging slowing dramatically somewhere in the mid to late twenties. How do you even bring that up to someone who fears their future more than anything else?

I rub my chest with the heel of my hand, trying to ease the ache. It doesn't help. The throb has been getting worse since we left, and I can only hope it's not this uncomfortable for Sheena. Callum glances at me a few times with concern, but I know he won’t say anything in front of strangers.

When we finally pull back into the bar parking lot, the two smaller women vanish into the night within seconds. Not a word of thanks, but I can't blame them for being jumpy. Prey shifters have to be careful at the best of times, and these two have more reasons than most to avoid more powerful creatures.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the wolf pack’s representative won’t shut up about how thankful he is, clapping Callum on the back half a dozen times as he bundles the alpha’s niece up into their tricked out Jeep. I choose to stay in our SUV. I’m hurting too much to care if it makes me look like an arrogant dick.

Once Cal slides back into the driver’s seat, I sigh with relief, ready to go. He puts his hand on the gearshift, then lets it fall back to his lap, turning to face me.

“We’ll need to hunt the bar owner down eventually,” I say before he can speak. “There have to be consequences for selling out.”

He nods, but I can tell by the stubborn glint in his eyes he won’t be sidetracked.

“You're hurting.”

I grunt an affirmative, and he puffs out a loud breath.

“They’ll be able to tell, Gideon. It will bring up questions we aren't ready to answer.”

I grunt again. He’s right of course, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it. Nothing gets past our dads, and since we haven't been home in months, I'm sure they'll make it a point to be all over our business when we stop by to drop off the trafficker.

“I’ll just stay in the car,” I mutter.

“Yeah, like they wouldn't just immediately send someone to drag you out.” Callum snorts, then hesitates. “... I could take the edge off.”

My jaw literally drops. I can’t help it. It’s not often he truly shocks me, but this makes the list.

“How would you getting me off solve our problems, Cal?” I ask, too curious to feel any type of way about the suggestion.

“Gods. I’m not offering to suck you off or something.” He runs his fingers through his hair, clearly flustered. “I’m just saying I can give you something else to focus on, so you aren't fixating on the bond.”

He’s embarrassed now, and I feel bad. Callum rarely uses or even mentions his abilities. He’s ashamed of his nature and the way people view it.

“Okay.” I agree with a shrug. There’s no point in overthinking things. He's my best friend. That’s not about to change, and him feeling comfortable with himself is way overdue.

“Okay? Just like that?” Callum asks.

He’s staring at me now with an intensity I’m not used to. I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. “Well, yeah. I trust you, and they are nosy.” I bat my eyelashes and fan myself dramatically with my hand. “I don't want to answer anyone's fucking questions. Give me another feeling to focus on, Callum.”

I'm rewarded with another eye roll as he reaches for me with his right hand. When I see his fingers shaking in the dim light of the cab, I erase the last bit of distance between us myself. His fingers spread wide across my chest, evenly spaced, with his palm directly over my heart.

He so rarely uses his magic around anyone, but now I’ve got a front row seat. I can see every dark shadow dancing in his eyes. His cheekbones sharpen, drawing attention to the deepening hollows of his face. It's savage, terrifying, and hypnotic. I can't look away.

Before I think better of it, I’m reaching for him and exploring the shifting planes of his face. He closes his eyes, then leans into my hand. I feel the exact moment he pushes his power into me.

The throbbing sting of the bond fades, but only because I'm now hyper aware of every other nerve in my body. I'm not exactly horny, but every sensation is intense. The way my shirt shifts over my nipples, the air conditioning blowing against my lips, Cal's skin under my fingertips.

The sensitivity is overwhelming, but he was right. It’s easier to ignore than the painful throbbing in my chest. It’ll take effort, but I'll be able to act normal when we get to the compound.

Black eyes flicker open and lock with mine. When Callum pulls his hand gently away from my chest, I nearly gasp at the feeling.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “She's still in there. I just numbed the sensations around your heart for a little while and gave you something else to feel.” His voice is deeper than usual, and I watch with fascination as the shadows and sharp edges fade from his face. Some of the laugh lines I'm used to seeing are back now, too.

“Yeah, I can tell,” I chuckle, flicking the air vent closed. “I can make this work.”

Callum makes no comment, but I see him smirking as we back out. He's still grinning when we merge onto the interstate a few minutes later.

“Kinky fucker,” I mutter, needing to break the silence.

He laughs then, long and loud. Despite our destination, I can't help joining in.

By the time we pull up to the enclave, our laughter is long gone. The gate opens without protest, and we pass under the carved awning into the stone courtyard.

Cal sighs.

This is harder on him than it is on me. My parents were tough, and they taught me to be the same. I spent my childhood preparing for a life of leadership, but I know they love me and want me to be happy more than anything else.

Callum doesn’t have the same luxury.

I glance up at the enormous compound we grew up in. Seeing it again for the first time in months is always a strange feeling. Massive and utilitarian on the outside, it sprawls further than the eye can see, both above and below ground.

The building itself is a hollow square frame with three wings divided among the leadership factions, plus another wing for storing weapons and, at times like these, hostages. The sides surround a massive outdoor space, which is used for training and fun. It has a hedge maze, a fountain, and a sparring ring.

It’s weird as hell to be back, but it’s home.

There are signs of construction, which I can only assume is the fae faction making itself comfortable. That alliance is new and fragile. If my father is to be believed, it will add to the strength of the enclave and the entire region. While I’m not a big fan of the fae I’ve met, any additional stability can only be a good thing, especially when you're dealing with supes who can level entire blocks when they have a bad day.

Callum backs the SUV into a garage near the holding facilities. We don't make it a habit of detaining anyone, but the rooms are there for a reason.

I get out of the passenger side, kicking the door closed and nodding to one of my dad's guards. When I saunter to the back of the vehicle and pop the back hatch, I’m disappointed to find our prisoner is still out cold. I had hoped he would wake up so we could shock him a few times before handing him over. No such luck.

I turn the electricity off on the cage and hoist it out of the back with Cal's help. Together, we carry it through the narrow hallway to the nearest holding room and toss it none too gently inside.

“Son, where the hell have you been?” My father’s booming voice puts a smile on my face. He pulls me into a crushing hug.

Hiding the mate bond from him is going to make this a long night.

CALLUM

Gideon's dad blows into the room with the force of a hurricane, grabbing his son up in a hug so tight it makes my bones ache just watching. Then it’s my turn. Joshua releases Gideon and crushes me in a similar hug. I cling for a second and hope he doesn’t notice.

By the time he pulls back, my eyes are gritty, and my emotions are raw. Joshua was there for me in ways my father refused to be. I would endure hours of uncomfortable affection in his home before I would offend him.

As if he can read my mind, the older shifter ruffles my hair like I’m still a little boy, then claps me on the back so hard I worry he’s knocked one of my teeth loose. I’m twenty-six years old, but I guess some things never change.

“Welcome home, boys. What did you bring us?” He turns his brown eyes—so similar to Gideon’s—toward the holding room and peers at the prisoner through the two-way mirror. “Gods, did you slam his neck in a door or something?”

I laugh and point at his son.

“The kitty cat was a little heavy-handed with the capture.”

Joshua turns back to his son, raising his eyebrows in a silent demand. It’s a look I’ve seen on his face a thousand times. Predictably, Gideon gives no shits. In fact, he looks less sorry than I've ever seen anyone look, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me.

“He had it coming, dad,” he growls. “They were keeping those shifters naked in an electric dog kennel.” Joshua's amusement flips to outrage in a flash. I’ve never seen them look so alike.

“It's a wonder you didn't rip his head off, then. We'll have a long conversation with this one when he wakes up,” Joshua says. “For now, let's leave him in there to think about what he's done. Your mothers are very excited to have you both home.” His smile returns as quickly as it disappeared, and he throws an arm around each of our shoulders.

It doesn't escape my notice that he omits my father. There’s no love lost between us, and Joshua knows better than to push us together these days. No, that ship sailed a long time ago—the second I didn't manifest as a nightmare demon like the rest of the family.

Joshua and Gideon keep up a steady conversation as we walk back to the residential part of the complex. Their chatter is punctuated by loud laughter and probing questions, which Gideon narrowly dodges.

When we enter the shifter wing of the compound, some of my anxiety fades. As a teen, I spent more time in this home than the demon quarters. We gravitate towards the kitchen the same way we always used to, where Gideon's mom, Sarah, immediately fusses over her son. She stands on her tiptoes to examine how long Gideon’s hair is, exclaiming her surprise, before pressing excited kisses to both his cheeks.

Too late, I notice Sarah isn’t the only mother in the room.

My mom rises from her spot at the table, looking uncomfortable with Sarah's exuberant display of affection for her son. Not a strand of her blonde hair is out of place. As usual, her greeting for me is about as warm as falling sleet.

“Hello, mother.” Despite the familiar stab of sadness that comes whenever I see her, I bend down to kiss one of her pale cheeks. I couldn't be what she wanted in a son, and she couldn't be what I needed in a mother. It is what it is, but the pain doesn’t seem to be something I’ve grown out of yet.

“It's good to see you, son.” Her voice is crisp, the words unflinchingly polite. She might as well be speaking to a casual acquaintance, but I won’t wilt. She nods firmly, and I reflexively mirror her actions, keeping my cool until the woman I actually want to see swoops in to save me.

“Mallory, look how handsome our boys are,” Sarah exclaims, jostling Gideon out of the way to reach me. She presses a warm kiss to my cheek, and I fold her gently in my arms. As always, her hug makes everything a little better.

Unlike my mother, Sarah is a tall woman, which is common among omni-shifters. At five foot ten, she's just a couple of inches shorter than me. That makes her easy to hug and hard to avoid.

Sarah clasps my face in her hands and looks me over thoroughly; there’s no escaping her perceptive gaze. I try to look normal, but just like when we were boys, nothing gets past her. Whatever she sees in my expression makes her eyes sharpen. Fuck me. Now, it's just a toss-up over whether she keeps her observations to herself or makes them a family discussion.

Sarah tilts her head to give her son a narrow-eyed look, then swivels back to me. The gods only know what conclusion she comes to, but when her mouth splits into a wide, terrifying smile, I’m scared shitless.

Sliding out of her clutches, I drop into a chair and reach for one of her famous chocolate chip cookies. It melts in my mouth. Maybe if I never stop chewing, she won’t be able to question me.

We make small talk for the next few minutes, while Gideon tries to distract his mom with questions about her and Mallory’s gardens. My mother offers a handful of tepid remarks, but she seems uncomfortable and out of place sitting around a simple wooden table in the cozy kitchen.

It's just not her aesthetic. No, Mallory is more evening gowns and formal sitting rooms. I doubt she's ever baked a batch of cookies in her life.

“Where is everyone?” I stiffen as I hear my brother's voice coming from the living room. The cookie sours in my gut when Ciprian walks into the kitchen followed closely by our father.

“Why are you all grubbing around in the kitchen like the help?” Ciprian asks, glancing at me as he snatches a cookie for himself. “Now that you’ve finally crawled out of your cabin in the woods to give us a report, let’s hear it, brother.”

The golden child earns a reproachful look from our mother for speaking with his mouth full, but her eyes hold a fondness she hasn’t directed at me in a decade.

“Ciprian,” my father drawls. “Perhaps a formal setting would be more appropriate for this conversation.”

Ignoring my little brother’s look of annoyance, he offers Gideon his hand without even looking at me. It’s a deliberate slight. I’m his fucking son.

Gideon shoots me a worried look as he returns the handshake, but it’s not his fault. Even if affection holds no sway with my father, etiquette dictates he should greet me first. But Dimitri Casanell’s priorities have always been crystal clear. I’m way too used to coming in last place to anyone and everything to be hurt by his calculated micro aggressions. It’s not worth getting worked up over.

When father finally turns to greet me, I deny him the courtesy of standing. Instead, I give his hand a brief shake, and then slap my brother's greedy fingers away from the platter of cookies.

Ciprian looks more like our parents every time I see him. He's pale and blonde, with neatly waving hair and sparkling white teeth. If I look like a dark, evil demon cliché, then all three of them look like some sort of pop culture caricature of angels.

They would hate that comparison, but it fits. Except in the eyes. There, unfortunately, lies a genetic marker that was impossible to dodge, even for me. While my mother has soft, gray eyes, my father's are as black as obsidian. Both Ciprian and I share that feature. Our soulless void eyes are anything but angelic.

Clearing my throat, I pull my gaze away from my family and address Joshua directly because one, I’d rather talk to him, and two, I know it will piss my father off.

“We were right to worry. There is a supernatural gang trafficking in weaker species. Besides the alpha wolf’s niece, the women we rescued outside of Boulder were prey shifters living with no protection to speak of. They were easy pickings.”

Sarah makes a distressed sound, but I already know what she's winding up to ask.

“We offered them the protection of the enclave, but they didn’t want to leave.” I run a hand through my hair. “Neither of them have ever been more than fifty miles away from where they were born.”

Sarah pinches her eyebrows together. “I believe you, sweetheart... but were you scary?”

I picture Gideon’s massive lion teeth dripping with blood and the heads literally rolling around on the floor of the barn.

“Of course not. We rescued them and were nice as hell,” I assure her, but she’s not convinced. From the look on her face, I can tell she doesn’t want to drop it.

“The captives aren’t important,” Gideon jumps in. “The guys I... err... neutralized were vermin, low-level puppets. There's no way they were pulling the strings.”

“You think someone with power is organizing these traffickers from the shadows? Snatching people up in our territory?” Joshua’s voice rumbles like a landslide, and I'm reminded why he's a scary fucker to most people.

When we both nod, Joshua turns to my father. “We’ll have a talk with the puppet, Dimitri. If this goes as deep as the boys suspect, they'll need help.”

Oh, fuck no.

Both Gideon and I protest, but Joshua silences us with a look.

“If you think I will put either of your lives at risk to protect your foolish pride, you've got another thing coming.” He pins us both under the weight of his stare. “If the enclave determines backup is called for, you will both accept the help and say ‘thank you’ with smiles on your faces.” By the end of his rant, he’s red in the face.

Sarah places a soothing hand on his arm.

“Of course, the boys will take reinforcements if it’s too dangerous. Don't get yourself worked up, darling.” Her words are calm, but her narrowed eyes are back on us in obvious warning.

I feel like a moth pinned to some scientist’s board.

Now I’m even more certain she knows something is going on. She’s sparing us right now, but it won’t be long until we face her questions head on. That’s a lot more intimidating than her husband's bluster.

As we talk well into the night, I dodge barb after barb from my brother, enduring his constant attempts to put me in my place.

As if I could ever forget.

I’m Callum—black sheep, disappointment extraordinaire, and displaced heir to the Hall of Nightmares.

When we finally retire for the night, Gideon and I leave the cozy kitchen to return to our childhood bedrooms. Gideon’s room is just down the hall, but mine is in the marble tomb that masquerades as the demon wing. A chill settles over my skin.

After exchanging perfunctory goodnights with my parents, I close my bedroom door in my brother’s face. With any luck, the insufferable shit won't be part of the backup team Joshua threatened us with.

When I slide under the covers, I think about Sheena's pretty blushing cheeks and Sarah's curious looks. It’s clear now, we haven’t buried our secrets well enough, and eventually, some of them will come to light.

My phone dings, and I grapple with it, seeing an incoming message from Gideon.

My mom thinks we are ducking

fucking*

Come again?

Lol that’s EXACTLY what she thinks is going on

Be serious. Why would she think that?

I am. She’s always thought we had a thing.

That look she gave us after your face was all sexed up healthy… she thinks she knows what’s going on. That’s why she didn’t ask.

Every time we come home, some crazy shit happens

It’s OK. Mom doesn’t care

Don’t you?

Care? Not as much as you do apparently.

Dude

You’re such a prude

We can talk more tomorrow. I want to go home to our girl. Leave by 7a?

Sure thing

That’s just wonderful.

My mind races, anxiety pressing against my lungs.

Now the woman who is the closest thing I have to a real mom thinks I'm in a sexual relationship with her only child. I can only imagine what my father would say if Sarah shared her theory.

Things are already tangled enough, but I can’t help feeling like this mess is just getting started. After thrashing around in the sheets for what feels like hours, I fall into an uneasy sleep. Even as I drift off, I’m mindful of the nightmares all around me.

Thank the gods none of them know Sheena exists.