Chapter 3 - Aris

Bigby has his eye on me as soon as we ride into Rosecreek. I can feel him watching me, and I know it's because he's worried being here is going to put me on edge. I give him a quick look, shooting into his mind. I'm fine. Stop staring.

Not a thing has changed here. Main Street is still a collection of quaint little buildings, the high school still sits to the South of town, its field woefully outdated, and people in the street still nod their heads when they see me pass by. I see some old timers widen their eyes when they recognize me, and I know what they're thinking.

They're thinking I've returned to Rosecreek to take out Varun and take back the pack that's rightfully mine. They think I care enough about this place to fight and get it back. They're wrong.

I'm here to complete the objective, do my job to the letter, and get the fuck out of here before I'm suffocated under the memories.

From what we've gathered so far, Varun has moved the HQ from the old meeting hall to a bar in town, which doesn't make much sense to me. There's not enough room in there to set your elbows on the bar, let alone address the entire pack or take care of people properly. I push the thought from my mind—I'm not the alpha here, and I don't want to be.

"So, Boss," Percy says, bouncing forward and slinging his arm over my shoulder. I give him the side-eye, but he just grins. If I was truly angry, he would back off, but we've all gotten used to taking shit from him. "This is where you and Bigby grew up? Partners in crime? Were you, like, co-captains of the football team or some shit?"

Somewhere behind me, I hear Bigby laugh under his breath.

"I was captain of the football team," I say, throwing him a look over my shoulder. "Bigby was off somewhere learning about quantum physics."

"Mathletes," Bigby says. "I was the captain of the Mathletes team. And we, unlike the football team, actually went to state."

"Whatever," I grumble, "You know I was hurt that year."

"Yeah, sure," Bigby says, and I can almost feel him rolling his eyes.

My high school "friends" had all started commenting on my change in attitude during senior year, and eventually, it got to the point where the entire school knew I was far more irritable than normal. I got hurt on the football field because I slammed head-on into another kid. A human kid. He was in the hospital for three weeks, and the coach benched me because he said I had to learn to control my temper.

They all thought it had to do with being the rising alpha, that primal instinct making me more violent and driving me to challenge my dad. It couldn't be farther from the truth—I was pissy all the time because I suddenly found myself enjoying sex a lot less.

There was no shortage of girls in high school. As the rising alpha and captain of the football team, I pretty much had my pick of the cheerleaders, but right at the start of our senior year, I couldn't look at them the same. I was never satisfied. There was one thing my body wanted, and it sure as hell wasn't going to get it.

I don't know if Bigby picked up on any of that. Being the smart motherfucker he is, he probably deduced it at some point over the years. My lack of a mate for this long, especially with my status and current position as alpha of our group, is definitely weird, but none of the other team members dared to comment on it.

Our strategy was in place before we left D.C. If Varun is worth anything as alpha, he already knows we're here, so we plan to use it to our advantage.

"Good evening, gentlemen," a shifter at the door says, eyeing us warily when we approach. He's clearly been given instructions to let us in because he steps to the side and watches us as we file through the doorway.

It's still as run-down as I remember but somehow even sleazier. Girls in practically nothing are dancing on various tabletops while shifters crowd around, jeering at them. I avert my gaze and quickly glance back at the rest of the team.

They all look slightly nauseated at what's going on here, and I'm momentarily proud of them. It doesn't seem like these women are dancing here because they want to, so it feels disrespectful to stare.

We're led through the throngs of people by a girl in high heels carrying a bottle up on a platter. Throughout the bar are women—some of whom must be just out of high school—dancing and serving shifters. I can't stop myself from wondering if Linnea is here somewhere, being looked at, with hands on her that aren't mine.

Nasty place, Percy says through our team mind link. Shit, Boss, you grew up here?

I shake my head, blinking and glancing at Bigby, who looks nonplussed. Thankfully, I've managed to keep my thoughts to myself this time.

Wasn't like this when—when I was here. Focus, Heroux. I shoot back, surprised at how easily I almost said wasn't like this when my dad was alpha. The last thing I want to do is dredge up the past with the team right now.

In the very back of the room, situated in a large, curved booth, is Varun. He's sitting with his arms up, slung around two girls who look like they wish they were somewhere else. He's wearing a loose white shirt with the top couple of buttons undone, and his face is too angular, almost like he's had plastic surgery to achieve the look. His skin is startingly pale, so the veins on his arms pulse out, bright blue and too visible.

I feel Bigby stifle a laugh, and I understand why. With his darting eyes, possessive gaze, and drastic widow's peak, Varun fits the cartoon villain mold perfectly. But beneath the cheesy exterior, I can sense the power coming from him acutely. It's the same type of silent control my dad once exuded, but more concentrated and unfamiliar.

"Well, good evening, gentlemen," Varun says, leaning forward on his elbows and glancing up at us. A single, greasy piece of blond hair swoops down from the rest, curving down to his forehead. "What a surprise to have you in my bar tonight."

"Varun," I say, standing at the front of my group and gazing down at the slimy little man who killed my father. I'm working hard to keep the simmering rage from boiling over—I've never seen Varun in person before and only found out about what happened from those others still in Rosecreek. Looking at him, I find it incredibly hard to believe that he took down my father.

But the thing about Varun is that he didn't just take down my father. According to ancient pack traditions, if someone overpowers the alpha and takes his spot, the new alpha also has the right to eliminate the remaining relatives. It's barbaric and unheard-of in modern packs, but Varun clearly took some inspiration because he made sure to take out my mom as well.

At least, that's what he told people. Some of the old timers in the pack tried to hint that something else had gone down with my parents, but at the time, I wasn't interested. I was so overcome with grief and guilt over the fact that I'd left and allowed this to happen in the first place.

Over the years, after leaving, I've tried not to think about it. All my dad wanted was for me to live up to his expectations. We didn't always have a perfect reputation, but I let him down—I let down the whole pack. Joining the agency, running around, and taking out rogue shifters felt like the best way to do some good while hiding from my past.

"The pleasure is all ours," I say, keeping my voice level despite the fact that the past is staring me in the face.

"I assume I know why you're here," Varun says, unlacing his fingers and reaching for a drink on the table. "But I'd rather hear it from you. What brings you to town?"

Through the first firewall,Byron sends through the mind link. Probably need at least five more minutes.

Percy has wandered off to the side, messing with some of the expensive bottles of alcohol on the shelf above the booth. I fight to keep from smiling—Varun is distracted by this and clearly torn on whether he should tell Percy to back off. The air is tense with the potential for violence, and every person in the area can feel it. The first wrong move could set off a lethal series of events.

"You've probably figured out this isn't a social call, Varun. We got news at the agency that you've been making some questionable decisions. Boss wanted us to come down and see if we can work it out without any bloodshed."

"I see," Varun says, nodding slightly. The girls to his left and right have gone rigid, glancing between me and him. I wish there was a way to put them at ease, to let them know we would never purposefully cause them harm if a fight did break out. "And what, exactly, are these charges?"

I glance at the other shifters sitting here with Varun, the girls scattered around.

"You want to discuss that here? In front of your people?"

"There are no secrets in this pack, Cadell. We run things differently now."

Internally, I bristle, but externally, I manage to keep a completely calm fa?ade.

"Fine, Varun. We have charges for drug trafficking, drug synthesizing, human trafficking, murder of human civilians, and several domestic pack violations."

"I see," Varun says, running a finger across the top of the table, clearly tracking it through some remaining cocaine. Behind me, Ado stiffens, surely seeing and smelling the stuff now. He came to the agency by way of a drug rehabilitation program. Typical human drugs affect shifters differently because everything is heightened to us. While cocaine might cause a human to drive recklessly or start a fight, cocaine in a shifter has much more drastic consequences.

"I wasn't aware the agency is sticking its nose in what an alpha chooses to do with his pack," Varun continues, glancing up. His eyes go slightly behind me, to the left, clearly connecting with Ado. Somehow, perhaps through his heightened perception as alpha, Varun seems to know the coke is getting to him. I shift to the left, crossing my arms and sharpening my gaze.

"It's clear you aren't aware of a lot of things," I say, a clear threat in my voice. "Our goal today is to remedy this situation. You stop breaking the Maan Pact, and we will go on our way. No harm done."

"Yes, that's an interesting proposition," Varun says, raising his eyebrows and steepling his fingers. "But I have my own for you, Aris."

Hearing my name come from him makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I don't want to be associated with him whatsoever. When I don't answer him, Varun continues.

"I can sweeten the deal for you. You go back to your agency, tell them everything's sorted out, and I'll give you and your team a little cut of what comes through here. And trust me, even a little cut is surely more than what you're getting in a year. In exchange, you run a little interference, make sure any… Unsavory reports don't get through. It's a win-win for everyone."

I can't help it—I laugh. Varun startles at this but quickly sits back, trying to relax his stance again. For a moment, I almost feel bad for the guy. It's like he's play-acting a role he'll never be fit for.

"Sorry, Varun, it's a no from me. And now you can add bribery and attempted illegal action to that list of charges. I have to say—it doesn't feel like you're taking our presence here seriously."

Shit, Byron sends through. More security than I thought. Doing what I can. Keep him busy.

"Okay, Cadell," Varun purses his lips, shakes his head once, and then calls one of his shifters over to him. He whispers something in his ear, and the shifter turns, disappearing back into the thick of the bar. "I've got something that actually will interest you. Just give my man a moment to fetch it."

I want nothing more than to collect my team and get the hell out of here, but Byron needs more time, so I concede, watching Percy tap on a fish tank and Bigby mentally catalog every detail of the place while we wait for Varun's mysterious offer.