28. ZANA

Chapter twenty-eight

ZANA

Ethan’s sprawled out on the couch, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, his cheeks flushed a deep red that matches the fever burning under his skin. He’s restless, his fingers twitching against the blanket I tucked around him earlier. His scent—normally bright and warm, like summer rain—is off, tinged with something sharper, like ozone before a storm. It’s not pain, he keeps telling me, but I don’t believe him. Not entirely.

Dr. Bardin sits in the armchair across from us, her bag of supplies open on the coffee table. Her sharp eyes flicker between her notes and Ethan, her expression neutral for the most part. I watch her closely, the tension in my chest coiled tight like a spring. I’ve never felt more powerless and the feeling is starting to crawl under my skin.

“What can I do to make this easier?” I ask, trying to control my emotions. Both of my mates need me right now.

Dr. Bardin closes her notebook and sighs, rubbing her temple. “It’s his biology, Zana. Stress and not having his mate here are wreaking havoc on his system. His body doesn’t know whether to ramp up or shut down. It’s like being stuck halfway between a heat and a fever. Neither place is comfortable.”

Ethan shifts on the couch, muttering something incoherent and I immediately move closer, my hand brushing over his forehead. He leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering open just enough to focus on me. “I’m not in pain,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Not like last time. When Reid was... you know.”

“Determined?” I finish for him, my heart aching at the thought of Reid still at that house. It’s only been a few hours but it’s longer than I wanted. Hell, I never wanted him back in that place. “Yeah, he is. He’ll be back, baby. I promise.”

Dr. Bardin clears her throat gently, pulling my attention back to her. “I gave him a sedative,” she offers. “Low-dose. It'll calm his system down enough to keep him stable. But it’s not a fix, Zana. It’s just a way to get through this. His heat is going to press forward regardless but he’ll be less irritable.”

I nod, my jaw tight as I process the words. “Thank you. Really.”

Dr. Bardin leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she watches Ethan with a critical eye. “You’re doing everything you can, Zana. But his body is fighting against the reality that his mate isn’t here. It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

I don’t respond right away, pressing a kiss to Ethan’s temple, my hand sliding down to hold his, squeezing gently. “You hear that, sunshine? You’re doing everything you can too.”

Ethan hums softly, his eyes slipping shut again. “I just... I miss him. It’s stupid. It hasn’t even been that long,” he whispers, his words slurring as exhaustion takes over.

An hour later and I wish Dr. Bardin hadn’t been right.

Ethan is curled up in my lap, his head resting against my chest as he shifts again, trying to find a spot that works for him. His scent hangs in the air, sweet and sticky, hovering somewhere between faint and syrupy. It’s driving me insane, that edge of arousal in his scent, pulling at me like a thread I can’t ignore. I’m just as hot as he is, fighting the urge to shift our positions, to press closer, but I keep myself steady.

Barely.

I press my phone tighter against my ear, my jaw clenched as I wait for Rourke to pick up. The line clicks, and his familiar voice greets me. “Zana, didn’t think I’d hear from you again this soon. It’s been what… a few hours?”

“Yeah, well,” I mutter, my fingers brushing absently through Ethan’s curls. He hums softly, a little noise that sends a ripple of heat through me and I have to clear my throat before I speak again. “I need more information. You said you’d dig, so dig deeper.”

A low chuckle rumbles through the phone and I can practically see his amused smirk. “You sound stressed, Zana. Your Omega giving you a hard time?”

“Don’t start,” I warn, my voice sharp, though I’m not sure who I’m warning—him or myself. Ethan shifts again, his thigh brushing against mine and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from growling. “I need answers, not jokes. I refuse to leave him in that fucking house.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, his tone still teasing but laced with curiosity. “Okay, give me a second. I’ve got some basic info here. Reid Wilhelm—no, wait, wrong last name. Reid... shit, what’s his actual last name?”

“Camden,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “Reid Camden.”

“Right, Camden. Let me grab his file. Biology degree, graduated a few years ago. Top of his class, impressive marks, had a couple of offers lined up after graduation.” Rourke falls silent, a grunt following the sound of pages being flipped through. “There’s no reason he would sign a contract like this after that. Doesn’t make sense. But from the few people we’ve talked to, they always said that Reid wanted to help. Even his parents said he was the perfect Beta, always wanting to clean. So submissive.”

“Submissive?” I mutter, my fingers tightening in Ethan’s hair for a second before I catch myself and loosen my grip. He doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on shifting again, his scent warming the air between us. “The Beta I know isn’t submissive, maybe reduced because of all the abuse but he’s got a mouth on him. Nothing about this makes sense. Why would someone with that kind of future tie themselves to a pack like the Wilhelms? Unless...”

“Unless he didn’t have a choice,” Rourke finishes. “We haven’t found any evidence that he was coerced and his parents sound mostly like normal people. Both Betas.”

I don’t even know where to start but then it clicks. In the few days Reid was here, he never once asked to see his parents. In fact, he did well to avoid it the few times I asked if there was anyone he wanted to call. “Can you send me anything of what you have?”

Rourke laughs. “You know I can’t. Besides, you need a break. Your voice has that edge, like you’re about two seconds from snapping.”

“I don’t need a break,” I snap, proving his point. “I need answers.”

He laughs, low and amused. “Zana, come on. Your Omega’s heat is in flux and you’re over here calling me for answers. You need to get your head straight before you burn out.”

I glance down at Ethan, who’s finally stopped fidgeting, his face relaxed against my chest, his scent still thick and tempting. “I don’t have time for that.”

“You don’t have time not to,” he counters. “Take a few days, Zana. Handle your Omega. And by handle, I mean fuck him. Get your frustration out before you snap someone’s neck.”

I groan, leaning my head back against the couch. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m right, though,” he says, smug as ever. “You’ll thank me later. Now go deal with your shit and I’ll keep digging on my end.”

He hangs up before I can argue, leaving me sitting there with Ethan in my lap, his soft breathing filling the quiet of the room. My chest tightens as I look down at him, brushing a hand over his cheek. I can’t fall apart now. Not when I’ve got so much riding on this. But maybe Rourke has a point. Maybe I need to take a breath, even just for a moment, before I lose myself completely.

I can’t help Reid if I’m out of sorts.

The moment Ethan finally drifts off in my lap, his breath soft against my chest, I ease him down onto the couch, making sure he’s tucked in with the thickest blanket we have. His scent is still warm and syrupy, lingering in the air and it takes everything I have not to start something. He needs rest before his real heat hits.

And I need space—just for a little while—or I’m going to lose my damn mind.

The office is quiet, the faint hum of the laptop filling the air as I sit down at my desk. Papers are scattered everywhere, files from cases I’ve shoved aside while dealing with this mess, but all of that feels miles away now. A ding cuts through the silence, my brows furrowing as I pull up an email from Rourke.

Don’t mention this.

I snort, just one attachment staring back at me. I didn’t expect him to send me a copy of the original contract but I’ll be forever grateful. Seeing Reid’s name in neat type at the top of the document sends a pang of frustration through me.

I skim through it, noting every clause, every detail that makes my blood boil. Then I spot it—his signature at the bottom. Sloppy. Crooked. Barely legible. A far cry from the confident, sharp handwriting I’ve seen on his notes around the house.

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “Really, Reid?” I mutter to myself, leaning back in my chair. “That has to be the worst forgery I’ve ever seen.”

But the humor fades as I scroll further. The payment breakdown catches my eye and I feel that familiar anger bubbling up. Most of the money doesn’t go to Reid—it’s funneled straight to his parents. The same account number appears over and over, their names listed clearly in the transaction details. It’s right there in black and white.

A sinking feeling settles in my gut. Reid hasn’t mentioned them once. That silence says more than any words could.

I glance at the numbers on the screen, biting the inside of my cheek. I know I shouldn’t. I know this is crossing a line. But after years of dealing with shitty parents in court, I’ve learned that silence from a kid often hides something darker. And if I’m going to fight for Reid, I need to know what I’m up against.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up my phone and dial.

The line rings, each chime stretching longer than the last, and I half-hope it’ll go to voicemail. But then someone picks up, the voice sharper than I expected.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Camden?” I ask, keeping my tone calm, even. Neutral.

“Yes. Who is this?” she replies, suspicion heavy in her voice.

“I’m Zana,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. “I’ve been helping Reid recently. I wanted to ask you a few questions about—”

Her scoff cuts me off, her tone dismissive. “Helping Reid? That ungrateful boy has no idea what help even looks like.”

I stiffen, my grip tightening on the phone. “Ungrateful?” I repeat, my tone dropping a few octaves, a growl sitting at the edge of my words. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like Reid’s been the one helping you.”

There’s a pause, followed by a bitter laugh. “Oh, you think you know everything, don’t you? Let me guess—he’s painted himself as some kind of victim? Poor little Beta, working so hard for his family? Please.”

My teeth grind together, but I force myself to stay calm. “I’ve seen the breakdown of the payments,” I say bluntly. “The Wilhelms have been sending you money every month. And yet, when I brought him back from the Wilhelms, he was bruised, underfed, and exhausted. Care to explain that?”

Her silence speaks volumes, but it’s short-lived. “That’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Reid knew what he was getting into. It was his job and he failed. That’s on him, not us.”

“It was his job?” My voice is ice now, unable to believe that his parents could be so heartless. I think I hate Mrs. Camden more than Ezra at this moment. “You mean the contract he didn’t even sign? The one that funneled most of his earnings straight to you? Tell me, Mrs. Camden—how much of that money actually went to Reid?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snaps, her voice rising. “This is none of your business.”

“I’m his Alpha,” I say, my voice low and steady, sharp enough to cut through her bullshit. “And that makes it my business. Every bruise, every scar, every ounce of pain he’s been forced to carry—that’s my business now.”

Her scoff is loud and dismissive. “Alpha? Don’t make me laugh. Reid’s a Beta. He doesn’t need—”

“He doesn’t need you ,” I cut in, my voice cold. “Not after what you’ve done to him. He trusted you. He thought you were his family and you used him. You took his money, his freedom, his life, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snaps, her voice shaking now. “Reid was happy in his position. He’s always been happy. He just needed structure.”

I laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that makes her pause. “Happy? He was miserable. He was beaten. He was treated like dirt under the Wilhelms’ boots, and you knew it. Don’t you dare try to tell me he was happy.”

“Who do you think you are to question me about my own son?” she spits, her voice venomous. “I’ve done more for Reid than you could ever understand. That contract gave him a future.”

“You call being abused and enslaved a future? You call stripping him of his autonomy a future?”

“It’s better than what he would’ve had otherwise,” she snaps. “Reid’s always been—”

“Enough!” I shout, slamming my hand down on the desk. “You don’t get to decide what Reid’s future is. You don’t get to sign his life away and then pretend you did him a favor.”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and then she says, “You don’t understand what it’s like. We had no other options. It was the best thing for him.”

“For him? Or for you?” I shoot back, my blood boiling. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the only people who benefited from that contract were you and your husband.”

“Watch your tone,” she hisses. “You have no idea what we sacrificed for Reid.”

I laugh, a harsh, humorless sound. “The only person who sacrificed anything was Reid. And you’re lucky he hasn’t gone to the authorities with what you’ve done. Signing someone else’s name on a legally binding document? That’s forgery. That’s fraud. And it’s a crime.”

She goes quiet, but I can hear her breathing, heavy and uneven. “Reid wouldn’t do that,” she says finally, her voice wavering. “He wouldn’t do that to us.”

“Don’t be so sure. You think Reid’s weak because he’s a Beta. You think he’s soft because he’s been beaten down. But I’ve seen the fight in him. I’ve seen the fire in his eyes, the strength he hides under all that submission. And if you keep pushing him, if you keep trying to control him, you might just find out exactly what he’s capable of.”

“You’re bluffing,” she snaps, but there’s fear in her voice now. “He wouldn’t—”

“Watch me,” I say, cutting her off again. “Because if Reid doesn’t, I sure as hell will. And if you think for one second that I won’t fight tooth and nail to protect him, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

The line goes dead, the click loud in my ear. I stare at the phone for a moment, my chest heaving with the effort to keep my anger in check. The confirmation is there, clear as day—Reid’s parents are just as bad as I suspected. Selfish. Manipulative. And entirely undeserving of him.

They’re not going to hurt him anymore. None of them are. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Now I just have to fucking figure out a way to get Reid out of that fucking house.