31. Zane

31

ZANE

"I need to head back," I state firmly, my tone brooking no argument. "There's something I need to check before the rally." My gun is exactly where it should be, but the others don't need to know that. I need a plausible excuse to follow Aria without raising suspicion.

"Bro," Dash whines from the backseat. "How the fuck? That's something I'd do. Not you."

"Please don't remind me," I mutter, maintaining the lie. "Malachi, let me out here. I'll walk back."

"We need you today," Malachi says, his voice calm but firm. He pulls over to the side of the road, his authoritative presence filling the car. "I need all teams for this political rally. Protestors camped out last night. I got a call this morning from the mayor. Shit's hitting the fan because this idiot wants to roll back omega protections for Puritan City." He takes a deep breath, visibly frustrated but still composed. "And with the recent tensions, we can't afford to be shorthanded. You know how volatile these situations can get."

"You think I won't be back?" I raise a brow in challenge. Honestly, it depends on what I discover when I make it back. He also doesn't need me. "I'll be quick. I just need to handle something important first."

Malachi blinks at me like I'm insane. I might be. We are only a mile down the road. "I need you to interview Logan."

"Just hire him." I shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant. "See how he does under pressure."

"I haven't gotten the background check in yet," Malachi counters, his eyes narrowing slightly.

That is a problem.

"Tell him the job is the interview. Call him up right now." I point at the dash and decide to take over by swiping through his contacts and calling Logan.

"Hello?" comes the questioning answer.

"Logan Pierce?" I ask, much to Malachi's dismay. "Puritan City Alpha Security. We are short a body for the rally. Your interview is to see how well you do under pressure. You don't get a gun until the security check comes through."

"Wait, really?" He sounds excited by the prospect.

"Yeah, really," I confirm. "We need all hands on deck for this one. Meet us at the rally point in twenty minutes, and get ready for a shit show."

There is always some idiot who tries to start a fight at these.

"I'll be there!" Logan says eagerly before hanging up.

Malachi gives me a skeptical look. "You sure about this, Zane? We don't know much about this guy yet."

"He's green, but he has potential," I argue, hoping for the best. I'm also a little distracted. I need to know what Aria is hiding, and it will consume me until I figure this out. "Besides, we're desperate right now. We'll keep a close eye on him. It's better than being down a man when things get heated."

Dash chimes in, his tone lighter. "I don't like it either, but Zane's right—we need the extra manpower today."

Malachi sighs heavily, clearly torn. "Fine, but if anything goes sideways with him, it's on you, Zane."

"Noted," I reply curtly. "Now drop me off so I can grab my gun and get my ass to the rally."

"Go," Malachi mutters, unhappy with me.

I hop out of the car and slam the door shut, taking off down the road without a backward glance. Wearing black fatigues and a black skull cap, I look like I'm up to no good.

I am.

Last night solidified something for me. Well, yesterday in general did. When we got to the hotel room, Quinn literally smoked us out and stripped all the sheets. He also called housekeeping and asked for new everything.

Why?

He's protecting Aria for some reason, and I need to know why. There were also the onions…

The moment I saw them on the floor, it reminded me of how Aria smelled on Wednesday when we sparred.

She smelled like extreme body odor, like a sandwich shop, and then there were onions on the floor.

I don't believe in coincidences.

As I walk back, my mind races. Quinn's actions and Aria's strange behavior are all connected somehow. I replay the events of the past few days, trying to piece the puzzle together. Aria is usually so straightforward, so why is she hiding something now? And why is Quinn covering for her? Is it something about her past, or is it a threat that she's keeping from us? The possibilities run through my mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

The more I think about it, the more it gnaws at me. Trust is a fragile thing in our line of work. Any crack in the foundation can bring the whole structure down. If Aria is hiding something, it could put all of us at risk. I need to confront her, but I need to be smart about it. Pushing too hard might make her retreat further into her secrets.

As I near the house, I realize this isn't just about finding out what she's hiding. It's about understanding why. What could be so important that Aria feels the need to keep it from the rest of us? And why is Quinn, of all people, going to such lengths to help her?

I reach the house and take a deep breath. This isn't just a simple investigation—it's personal. Aria means a lot to me, more than I care to admit. Whatever she's hiding, I need to know, for her sake and mine. If her secret could put any of us at risk, then I need to uncover it before it's too late.

I can't just go in the front, so I slink around back, hiding against the house as I do. I hear muttering and peer through the curtains, seeing Aria in panties and a T-shirt, doing the laundry.

That doesn't seem suspicious, but it is.

Before Malachi went to pick her up, we all came back to the house and scrubbed the nest top to bottom and washed the sheets. I know they were washed because I was the one who washed them. Everything is clean and scent free. She has no reason to wash the laundry.

So why is she?

Maybe I'm looking too much into this, but I don't think I am.

When she leaves the laundry room, and I hear her stomping up the steps, I sneak into my own fucking house and listen to the shower run.

She's fucking singing.

It's oddly soothing, domestic in a way we haven't had in... well, a long time. The tune changes, and suddenly my chest tightens. It's that old ballad, the one J— I swallow hard, memories threatening to overwhelm me.

I need to check the sheets, and yet my feet have a mind of their own and take me to the steps, where I listen to her faint voice.

Fuck me. I need more.

I creep up the steps and press my ear to the nest. I really thought she'd say something. She didn't. I don't dare enter because we all decided we wouldn't enter her room unless invited, but I want nothing more than to open this door and listen to her singing in the shower.

I feel like a creeper in my own damn house.

My heart pounds as I stand there with my ear pressed against the door, straining to hear every note of Aria's voice. The melody is faint, muffled by the sound of running water, but it's enough to send a shiver down my spine and all the blood straight to my cock. I close my eyes, letting her voice wash over me, and for a moment, I forget why I'm here.

Reality comes crashing back as the shower shuts off abruptly. I jerk away from the door, cursing under my breath. What the hell am I doing, spying on Aria like some lovesick fool? I need to focus on the task at hand—figuring out what she's hiding.

I hurry back downstairs, making a beeline for the laundry room. The washer is still running, the rhythmic thump of wet clothes echoing in the small space. I lift the lid and peer inside at the soapy water and sodden sheets. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. What if there's more to this than just laundry?

I lean in and inhale. Nothing. There's so much laundry detergent that it's almost criminal.

I slam the lid shut in frustration, running a hand through my hair. This is getting me nowhere. I need to confront Aria directly, but the thought makes my stomach churn. If I push too hard, I risk alienating her, potentially compromising both our professional relationship and any chance of something more. But if I let this go, her secret could endanger us all. It's like walking a tightrope, and I'm not sure I can maintain my balance.

Her footsteps creep down the stairs, and I toss myself behind the mudroom door and peer at her through the crack. She's standing at the island, keys in hand, and she's just staring at the island.

As I stand behind the door, I catch sight of Aria. Her pink hair is wet, dripping down her shoulders in messy strands, and she's wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that swallows her petite frame. The sight of her like this, so unguarded and natural, sends a wave of conflicting emotions through me.

Dammit, Aria. Why do you have to be so effortlessly captivating?

Aria's presence annoys me as much as it draws me in. It's infuriating how she can look so disheveled yet still manage to take my breath away. I shake my head, pushing away the nagging feeling. Some betas just have that effect, I tell myself. It's safer not to hope for more. We've been down that road before, and it nearly broke us.

I hate how she occupies my thoughts, and how just a glimpse of her makes my heart race and my mind whirl. There she is, standing in the dim light of the pack house, looking like she just stepped out of a dream, and all I can do is stare.

She doesn't notice me. She's lost in her own world, oblivious to my presence. For a moment, I forget why I'm here. I forget about the secrets, the suspicions, everything. All I see is her. Then the annoyance creeps back in. Why does she have this power over me? Why can't I just focus on the mission without being distracted by her every move?

I clench my fists, trying to steady my breathing. My feelings for Aria are a paradox, a maddening blend of attraction and frustration. She's not just a colleague or a potential mate. She's become an enigma that both captivates and confounds me, disrupting the carefully ordered world I've built for myself. Every time I think I have a handle on my feelings, she does something that pulls me right back in. I remember the way she looked at me during training, the fire in her eyes, and the way my heart pounded against my chest. Dammit, Aria.

Why can't I get you out of my head?

I need to stay focused. I need to figure out what she's hiding, but standing here, watching her, all I can think about is how much I want to be closer to her. It's a dangerous game, mixing personal feelings with professional duty, but it's a game I can't seem to avoid.

She moves, running her fingers through her wet hair, and I feel a pang of something deep and unwanted. Longing, maybe, but definitely frustration. I want to reach out and touch her to make her see me standing here, but I can't. Not until I know what she's hiding.

Aria, why are you so impossible?

My mind races, each answer spawning a dozen new questions. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, the sharp pain grounding me. Focus, soldier. But even as I try to steady my breathing, her scent lingers in the air—a constant reminder of why I'm here. My resolve wavers, torn between duty and desire.

As she turns away, still oblivious to my presence, I know I have to make my move soon. I can't keep standing here, lost in my own thoughts, while the truth slips further away. As much as it annoys me, I can't deny it any longer—I'm falling for her, and it's driving me crazy.

She does something unexpected. She grabs the keys off the island and pauses, her body tensing as if she just remembered something important. Her eyes flicker with an emotion I can't quite place. Fear, maybe? Or is it determination? Whatever it is, it sends a jolt through me. She's struggling.

She turns on her heel and heads back upstairs. I watch through the crack in the door as she disappears. A few moments later, I hear the telltale hiss of a spray can, and then I smell…nothing. Scent suppressant. So that's her game. She's trying to cover something up, but why?

She emerges from the stairs, her wet hair now tied back, and I see the tension in her shoulders as she makes her way to the kitchen. She grabs her bag and the keys again, hesitating for just a moment before heading out the door.

This is my chance. I need to follow her and see where she's going, but more than that, I need to understand her. This isn't just about uncovering a secret anymore, it's about getting closer to the woman who's consumed my thoughts.

I wait until she's out the door before slipping out behind her, careful to keep a safe distance. She gets into Quinn's car and drives off, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding and mind racing. I should be heading to the rally, my duty clear. But Aria's behavior has set off alarm bells I can't ignore. My hand instinctively brushes against my concealed weapon—a reminder of the responsibilities I'm choosing to sideline. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that following her is the more crucial mission right now.

I grab the keys to my motorcycle and stay far enough back to avoid detection as I follow her. She drives with a sense of purpose, not the aimless wandering of someone unsure of their destination. My mind spins with possibilities. Is she meeting someone? Is she in trouble? The questions gnaw at me, each one more urgent than the last.

After a few minutes, she pulls into a small parking lot in front of a shop I don't recognize. I park a few spaces away and watch as she steps out, her posture tense and movements quick. She heads inside, and I catch a glimpse of the sign.

Nightshade Remedies.

What the hell is she doing here?

I can't just go in, so I park and open the compartment on my bike. I have extra surveillance supplies. Grabbing a tracker, I walk over to the car and casually stick it to the exhaust before heading back to the side of the building.

She emerges a few moments later looking stunned and hurt, tears glistening in her eyes.

I have to fight every instinct I have not to rush over to her, gather her in my arms, and hold her until she feels better.

I don't move, even though I hate seeing her like this. Whatever is going on, it's tearing her apart.

Instead, I wait until she pulls away before heading into the shop. Nightshade Remedies is a study in contradictions. Dust motes dance in shafts of sunlight filtering through grimy windows, yet there's an undeniable charm to the cluttered space. Simple wooden shelves groan under the weight of ornate jars and mystical trinkets, creating an atmosphere that's both mundane and magical.

"Zane," a woman greets me, her voice filled with a knowing tone that sends a chill down my spine.

I freeze. How the hell does she know my name? The woman before me is striking, with long dreads cascading down her back and black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She exudes an aura of mystery and power.

"Welcome to Nightshade Remedies," she says, her voice smooth and melodic. "I've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" I repeat, skepticism lacing my tone. "How do you know who I am?" My hand instinctively moves closer to my concealed weapon, ready for anything.

She smiles enigmatically. "I know many things, Zane, including the fact that you're here because of Aria."

I narrow my eyes, trying to gauge if she's bluffing or if she truly possesses some sort of supernatural insight. A familiar ache pulses in my chest, reminding me of the last time we thought we'd found our fated mate.

No , I won't fall for that again. Aria. "What did you tell her?"

"Only what she needed to hear," she replies, gesturing for me to follow her deeper into the shop. "Come sit. I sense you have questions of your own."

Reluctantly, I follow her to a small table adorned with an assortment of crystals, candles, and tarot cards. She motions for me to sit across from her.

"I didn't come here for a reading," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I came to find out what you told Aria."

Never in all my thirty-two years have I spoken with a psychic, and I refuse to now.

"And you will," she assures me, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "But first, you must listen. There are things you need to know, Zane, about yourself and your future."

I open my mouth to protest, but something in her gaze holds me captive. With a sigh, I nod, deciding to play along for now.

She shuffles the tarot deck with practiced ease, the cards whispering against each other like conspirators sharing secrets. The scent of sandalwood and something darker, more primal, fills my nostrils. The air seems to thicken, pressing against my skin as if the very atmosphere is alive with anticipation. Then, with deliberate movements, she lays out a spread on the table.

"The cards reveal much about the path you're on," she begins, her fingers hovering over the first card. "This card represents your present." She flips it over, revealing the tower. "Upheaval, chaos, and the crumbling of old structures. Your life is in turmoil, but it is necessary for new growth."

She moves to the next card. "This represents your challenge." She reveals the moon. "Illusions, secrets, and the unknown. You are struggling to see the truth, both in others and within yourself."

I stiffen, the accuracy of her words unsettling. "What does this have to do with Aria?"

"Patience," she chides gently. "All will be revealed in time." She flips the third card. "This is your future." The lovers. "Choices, relationships, and union. You will soon face a decision that will shape your destiny. It involves not just you, but those you care about."

My heart pounds in my chest. "And Aria?"

She smiles knowingly. "She is at the heart of your journey, Zane. Your fates are intertwined. You must confront your feelings for her, and in doing so, you will uncover the truth she hides. Only then can you both find the peace you seek."

I swallow hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "How do you know all of this?"

"There are forces at work beyond our understanding," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. The air around us seems to thicken, charged with an energy I can't explain. "Trust in your instincts, Zane," she continues, her eyes boring into mine, "and remember, the answers you seek are often hidden in the most unexpected places." A chill runs down my spine, and I can't shake the feeling that her words carry more weight than I'm prepared to handle.

I rise from the table, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "Ah, thank you," I say, though the words feel inadequate. I feel like I'm dreaming. Her words echo in my mind, mingling with my own fears and suspicions. If what she says is true, then Aria's secret is more dangerous than I ever imagined.

This is worse than what Jane did. At least with Jane, our lives weren't in danger.

"Go to her," she urges softly. "She needs you now more than ever."

As I leave Nightshade Remedies, the shopkeeper's words cling to me like a second skin. My feelings for Aria, the secrets she's hiding, and the choices that lie ahead swirl in my mind, a tempest of destiny and desire. A nagging voice whispers that by pursuing this, I might be setting in motion events that could change everything.

But it's too late to turn back now.

I rev up my motorcycle and head back to the guys after checking the tracker on Quinn's car. She's at the salon. At least I know where she will be for the next eight hours.

Time to train a greenhorn, and then I'll deal with Aria.

She won't be another Jane.