6. Warrick

Chapter 6

Warrick

I ’m not sold on the idea of having Tavric brought up from the underground cells and into the estate for many reasons. The most prominent of which I’m not fully certain I believe Poppy’s story yet.

Asher may have been convinced by the entrancing redhead, but he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be overthrown by rebels. That’s a memory that’s still too fresh in my head.

“What if she’s just here to free the prisoners somehow?” I counter while we wait for the long-jailed rebel to arrive in the adjacent boardroom as we watch from the one-way glass of my office.

“Then we’ll be here to stop them from leaving,” Asher reassures me, his eyes fixed on Poppy’s svelte form pacing across the floor of the space. “Anyway, look at her. Does she look like she knows what she’s doing?”

I have to admit, Asher’s right. She doesn’t seem to have a clue. Poppy stops every so often to look at us through the one-way glass, even though I know she can’t see us, but I can feel her buzzing through the mirror. Impulsively, she holds a trembling hand to the glass.

Instantly, all my doubts about her intentions diminish.

She really is just looking for answers.

I hold my hand intuitively to place it against hers before I know what I’m doing.

“What the hell are you doing?” Malachi barks, but before I can respond, the door opens behind her.

I step back from the mirror, dropping my hand as Tavric is led inside, his gait shuffling after years of atrophy in the cells. His long, white beard touches the holes of his filthy shirt as the guards flank him. A stab of shame overcomes me when I look at him like this, in this setting, but I quickly remind myself why he’s in this position.

He’s a rebel. Given the chance, he’d kill any of us.

Worriedly, he looks around for me or my brothers, but Poppy steps forward tentatively, her hands extended.

“It’s just us, Tavric. It is Tavric, isn’t it?”

He eyes her suspiciously. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember me?” she asks gently. “I was in the underground cells with you. You kept trying to talk to me?”

Squinting against the unfamiliar light of the boardroom, he cocks his head back and peers at her. A slow grin forms on his face.

“Yes,” he hisses, spittle spraying out from between his broken teeth. “I remember you! Of course! What an honor!”

Relief colors her face, and she gestures for him to sit down. The guards move with him in tandem, and Poppy glances nervously toward the glass, but stops herself.

“You don’t need to stay,” she tells them. “Tavric and I would like to speak privately.”

“We have orders to stay,” one of the guards intones, his growl leaving no room for protest.

Hanging her head, Poppy nods, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs as she gestures for Tavric to do the same.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” she promises him, and I admire her way with him.

Tavric is half crazy from all his years in captivity, but Poppy doesn’t seem to notice. She’s acting like he’s an old friend.

Maybe because he is an old friend?

The door opens again, and one of our servants enters with a tray of steaming coffee, followed by another carrying sandwiches.

“What the hell is this?” Malachi challenges. “Is he moving in here too? Did we turn this into a hotel for the rebels now?”

“Calm down, Malachi,” Asher tells our brother evenly, his gaze still focused on the scene in front of us. “If it gets Tavric talking, what’s the harm?”

“She’s got you both wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?” Malachi hisses.

I cast him a sidelong look, tempted to bring up the video footage from the elevator recently brought to my attention, but I don’t. This isn’t the time to antagonize Malachi. We’ll have a discussion about his hypocrisy later.

With a shaking hand, Tavric reaches for the food, and Poppy rises to help pour him a cup of coffee. He winces and sits back as if he expects her to strike him, and she backs away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tavric. I just want to talk,” she promises him.

He exhales and allows her to pour the coffee.

“You’re one of them all right,” Tavric mumbles with his mouthful of sandwich, crumbs falling down his face.

I look at my brothers, but they’re just as perplexed by the prisoner’s statement as I am.

“One of who?” Poppy asks delicately, placing the coffee cup gently in front of the rogue shifter before sitting gracefully in front of him.

It’s hard to tell if she’s afraid, but I’m overwhelmed with the urge to fly in there and intercept, even though I’d promised to sit outside without interfering.

Tavric continues to chew messily, his leering grin not fazing Poppy, even when his hand shoots out to grab her wrist.

“Get in there!” I yell, but Asher throws up an arm to stop me as the guards rush forward, and Poppy holds up a hand.

“Stop!” Poppy commands them. “I’m fine.”

Uncertainly, the guards pause, but Tavric doesn’t release her.

“Your ear!” Tavric caws, half-laughing, half-sighing. “Your marking of the ancient pack.”

Baffled, Poppy reaches her free hand up to caress the spot behind her left ear, and Tavric bobs his head vehemently, cackling. “This?” she asks. “Is that what you mean?”

“I only know one other who bore that mark! Sharp! Sharp! Sharp!”

He releases his hold on Poppy as quickly as he grabs her and starts stuffing his face again.

“Sharp?” Poppy repeats, tilting her head. “What’s sharp?”

Tavric shoves the rest of his sandwich back into his mouth and snorts again, choking on the massive bite. The guards whack him across the back until the bite of food lodges free, and Tavric sputters, struggling to catch his breath.

“Not what, who!” he snorts. “Sharp! Sharp Brickman.”

Poppy sinks back in her chair as I choke on air.

Oh gods.

Asher casts me a worried gaze as he, too, recognizes the name. Only Malachi doesn’t seem to understand the significance of what’s happening as Tavric continues to spill all he knows about Sharp Brickman and his unique birthmark.

“The mark represents the original pack. The original bloodline,” he explains.

“Oh…” I mumble, stumbling back as my breath leaves my lungs.

“What is it?” Malachi demands, his attention flipping back and forth between me and the pair in the boardroom like a tennis match.

My head raises toward Asher. There’s a hazy recognition in my younger brother’s eyes, but he had only been sixteen. Ten years is a long time, and so much has happened since then.

We need to get Poppy out of there.

“You’re blessed with a sacred power,” Tavric sings, snatching up another sandwich.

“Can I steal powers?” Poppy asks in shock. “Is that my ability?”

The question takes everyone aback, including Tavric. “Steal powers? Are you a witch?” he scoffs. “Not that I’m even sure witches and warlocks possess that kind of dark magic. No, my dear. You simply have the uncanny ability to shift into the form of anyone you touch. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No, I know that…” she hems, her brow still furrowed.

“Then what are you asking?”

Poppy’s frown deepens. “But why didn’t I shift when I turned fifteen, like other shifters, if that’s true? Didn’t the ancient pack shift at fifteen? I don’t understand.”

Tavric scarfs down another sandwich without looking up, his entire beard encompassed in crumbs now. He slurps a sip of coffee back before answering. “Maybe you’re a witch too. Who’s your mama?”

This has gone on long enough.

Blood drains out of my face, and I rush toward the hallway before my brothers can stop me.

Asher calls out after me. “You can’t go in there! You promised to let her talk to him alone!”

But I have to put an end to this before Poppy puts the pieces together, just as I have, the inkling in her eyes shining brighter with each passing second.

“Sharp Brickman,” I hear her say as I open the boardroom door.

She lifts her head to look at me strangely, and suddenly I realize she knows.

“He was my father!” she gasps, horror coloring her face.

Asher and Malachi rush in after me, flanking me on either side.

“Easy,” I murmur, recognizing the signs of fury mounting on her face.

“You killed him! I remember now!” Poppy rages, jumping up to confront us, her blue eyes flashing with venom. “I remember everything about that day! I was in the woods, waiting for him to come out, and he didn’t! I heard him telling me to run because you were going to murder him!”

“Poppy, you don’t—” I start to say, but reasoning with her in this state is futile.

She lunges for us, grabbing hold of Malachi, and immediately shifts into his onyx dragon form, her body overtaking the entire boardroom and knocking the table sideways to the glass.

Enraged, she releases a spray of fire, but we react, shifting too, along with the guards as Tavric cowers and cries, too weak to morph in his current state.

Poppy’s ire overtakes her common sense, her need for destruction and revenge, giving us the upper hand.

Oh, how I wish she hadn’t done that.

Malachi jumps onto her back, collapsing her wings to keep her from flying as Asher pounces on her jaws to keep her from releasing any more fireballs at us, his teeth sinking into her back to subdue her. A loud but choked scream emanates through the boardroom, shaking the windows so violently that it’s a miracle they don’t shatter.

I shift back into my human form, panting and sweating as I approach her writhing form, screeching and pushing against my brothers.

“Take him back to the underground cells,” I order the guards, nodding toward Tavric.

They hustle toward the hovering prisoner and haul him away as Poppy moans.

“You need to calm down,” I hiss at her, lowering my head to hers. “Or I’ll have to put you back in the cells, too. Shift back so we can talk about this.”

Another muffled groan radiates through the shattered boardroom, and I hang my head. “You’re not leaving me any choice, Poppy,” I warn her with a growl.

She closes her eyes defiantly, her hatred toward us palpable now.

“Let’s put her in the underground cells,” I tell the others, morphing back into my wolf’s form to ensure their backup.

Malachi rides her back, glowering at me the whole way as we make our way cautiously back down the halls and through the tunnels.

By the time we reach the cells, Poppy is back in her human form, naked and trembling, but not speaking as we gather around her in an isolated cell.

“Poppy—” I try saying again, but she turns her back and curls onto one of the straw mattresses on the floor, pulling a blanket around her naked form.

“It doesn’t need to be like this,” Asher implores her, also reclaiming his human body.

Malachi snorts, but I read the uncertainty in his face as I throw up my hands in resignation.

“We’ll bring you some things to make you more comfortable,” I mutter, locking the cell door behind me.

“What the hell was that all about?” Malachi challenges me as we ascend from the tunnels. “Why did she react like that? Who was her father?”

We stop on the stone stairs, and I release a whoosh of breath, eying Asher, who is clearly still trying to piece it all together.

“Sharp Brickman,” I reiterate. “Don’t you remember him?”

My youngest brother shrugs and shakes his head. But why would he remember? He’d been fourteen when it had happened, still grieving the loss of our parents. There had been so much bloodshed back then. What was one more body, one more orphaned girl?

“He was the leader of the rebels,” I remind him. “One of the biggest thorns in our sides after we took over the Apex roles. And Poppy’s right; we killed him.”