Chapter 31: Dean

31

DEAN

S teel has gone to meet Jax to ensure Samuel doesn’t get away. He’s lurking close to the bridge, hoping to slip out alongside some of the departing guests.

Except he’s not going to get the opportunity to try it. Jax has eyes on him and his wolf never loses its prey.

"You're not killing him, Dean. That's not going to improve our pack's image. You need to hand him over to Blake or his pack to deal with, intact and breathing." Lynn, always the voice of reason, is arguing for leniency.

Callum growls in disbelief. "He can't just get away with it. He tried to murder someone, Lynn."

Rationally, I agree with Lynn. If it was anyone but Jamie, I might be prepared to show restraint. But it was Jamie, and I’m not feeling particularly rational these days. Which brings me to the other problem that needs to be dealt with.

The little rogue.

Maya went to see her, and reported her to be in good spirits, if a little sour about being kept under lock and key. She was full of questions, apparently. Over a friendly cup of tea, she didn’t enquire about what was going on with the games, or Joel and Samuel, even once. All she wanted to know was about the pack, how things worked around here, what I was like as a leader, and whether Maya still saw her stepmother.

Subtle.

Annoying as it is, I applaud her tenacity. In fact, the more I see of her in action, the more I understand how we fit together. And the harder it is to imagine letting her go.

It’s more than just a physical connection.

Which is why as we sit in the packhouse office, Lynn and Callum discussing the logistics of handling the increased number of shifters for round two, I’m only pretending to listen.

Instead, out of the corner of my eye, I’m watching my computer screen, currently showing the live feed from the security cameras in my home. The home in which I’ve left Jamie unguarded, and where I suggested she make herself comfortable.

Except Jamie might be taking that too far.

As my friends debate sleeping arrangements, I'm watching Jamie, her dark hair still damp from the shower, snooping around my house. She resisted for a while, but with Maya gone, it now appears she’s on a mission.

Dressed in a pair of tight leggings and a vest top, she drifts barefoot from room to room, opening drawers, pulling out books and ornaments. Jamie picks up anything not nailed down and examines it like a detective looking for clues.

She’s not just perusing my belongings; she’s methodically searching every inch of the property. She’s trying to find something.

Jamie glances around, hypervigilant, constantly checking to see if she’s about to be disturbed. She has to know I’m going to find her scent in every corner of the house. This is daring, to say the least.

“Has Wyatt spoken about their family at all?” I ask, knowing the abrupt change of subject will arouse my friend’s interest.

Callum looks at me with barely concealed annoyance. There are more important things going on right now.

“Not really. But I did get through to their old alpha. Said their father died when they were young, attacked by rogues on border patrol.” I feel sick to the stomach. I’ve been calling her little rogue. “Then their mother moved away with her new mate. He said the pack got sick of them causing trouble and kicked them out.”

Turning them into the very thing they must have hated the most.

Their alpha’s story doesn’t ring true. Your pack is your family. When you go astray, they try to put you back on the right path, not cast you aside. Especially two kids with nobody else.

Jamie’s suspicion that their alpha decided to get rid of Wyatt before he grew stronger and challenged for leadership seems more likely.

“Sounds fishy. Find out more about the alpha.”

Callum nods. I’m adding to his already massive workload, but I don’t care. I need to know everything I can about Jamie. And anyone who’s wronged her.

I smile as I watch Jamie sit on the sofa, clearly frustrated at her lack of success. She puts her feet up on my coffee table and drums her fingers on the worn leather, shifting impatiently.

It’s unnerving, how much I like how Jamie looks sitting in my living room, and in my house. Except the woman can’t sit still for more than a minute, and she certainly can't relax. After yesterday, she should still be tired. Her body is still healing. Yet she looks completely wound up as she sits there, knee bouncing rapidly, eyes darting around the room.

She looks unhappy, and I know she’s going to do something reckless, even before she does.

Pushing back her dark hair, she sits forward, resting her elbows on her knees, deep in thought. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Or plotting.

Fuck, she’s beautiful, but like all the most attractive things in nature, she’s dangerous. Amused, I watch as she stamps on the ground hard and listens intently. She moves over and does the same, then goes back and compares the sound.

She’s too clever for her own good. It’s impressive and scary at the same time.

Glancing up from my screen when Callum clears his throat pointedly, aware I’m not paying one bit of attention. Lynn suggests inviting Samuel’s father here to meet Alpha Steel and collect his son. It might be harder to start a pack war after he’s spoken to us face to face and heard the story, firsthand.

Callum shakes his head, assuming correctly, that with how I’m feeling, a visit here may exponentially increase the chances of a feud.

Drawn back to the screen by movement, I watch as Jamie shoves the coffee table out of the way, lifts the rug and stares at the floor. An adorable pout on her disappointed face, she was expecting a trap door. Carefully, she replaces my furniture and begins her search for the entrance to the basement.

It’s easy to see how intelligent Jamie is, and relentless. She scours the walls in my kitchen and utility for a hidden door, eventually running her fingers under the kitchen island and finding the concealed button. The countertop slides back, and she fist pumps as the steps are revealed. Without hesitation, she follows them down, and I shake my head at her lack of caution.

She has no idea what’s down there, yet she recklessly goes to investigate.

Is she really a thief? Does she mistakenly think I have treasures hidden under my kitchen island instead of expensive wine?

When she doesn’t reappear in the kitchen, disappointment dampens down my enthusiasm for her little victory. I admire her for finding the entrance, but this is more than being nosy. Somehow, I have a feeling she's not looking for childhood photos or love letters from an ex-girlfriend.

Jamie’s looking for something juicier than that, and I can guess what. Her mother. Or clues as to where she is.

I sigh, wishing she hadn’t crossed a line to do it. Just when I was convincing myself that her being a rogue shouldn’t matter. And taking a mate might be nice.

“I'm sorry, are we bothering you?” Callum finally says with more attitude than a beta should.

I didn’t realise I was growling. Covering it with a cough, I sit up straight and rub my eyes.

“Sorry, it was a long night.” I pause for a moment, staring at an old, framed picture of me and my father. I’m not quite sure why I keep it here, other than to torture myself. “Samuel should get the book thrown at him. She could have died.”

Callum nods along. “This is exactly the kind of thing we didn't want to happen.”

Holding this competition full of alphas and so-called respectable wolves was supposed to show my pack that the outside world isn't to be feared, and vice-versa.

And what's the first thing that happens? Someone who's slightly different gets tossed off a bridge and left for dead.

“It's not really helping improve our reputation, but neither will ripping him limb from limb.” I lean back, watching the entrance to my basement, willing Jamie to reappear. “If I go easy on them, it'll look like what he did doesn’t matter because Jamie’s a rogue.”

It’s not lost on me that I’m not much better. I’ve treated her poorly because of the bad hand in life she was dealt. And I hate myself for it.

My father got away with murder, literally, because he was a dominant wolf. I've tried to show my pack that not everybody gifted with a strong animal is like that. I've tried to show them that through my actions and gradual introductions to other packs, like Grey Ridge and the Steel pack.

But it's been a hard sell.

“Okay, leave it with me. I'll think of something.” I assure them, pushing to my feet. This meeting is over. My phone chirps again, and every set of eyes lands on it and then travels to me.

My fingers itch to pick it up immediately, dying to see which of my alarms she’s triggered, but I can't check without causing any more suspicion.

“Thanks,” I say, looking expectantly at Callum and Lynn. They show no signs of moving.

“Is that a notification for one of your sensors?” Callum asks.

“You know it is,” I say shortly, picking up my phone and sliding it into my pocket.

“Are you not going to check what she's up to?” Lynn asks, with a more amused look on her face. She doesn't agree with me locking Jamie in my cabin, so she's enjoying seeing me uncomfortable. But she loves Maggie too and knows what she’s been through. She’d want to protect her too if she knew the truth.

“I better go and take care of this,” I say with a huff, standing slowly. I extend a hand to Callum and then Lynn. “Thank you, for everything.”

We still have a day or two, but there's a lot to be done.

“We’ve got it boss. Go do what you need to do.”

Lynn and Callum are basically telling me to go and deal with Jamie.

The temptation to run from the room is strong, but I force myself to walk slowly out into the hallway. I wait until I'm around the corner before taking out my phone and flicking open the screen.

And there, much to my disappointment, is Jamie, standing at the bottom of the steps, in my basement. She runs her hands over the smooth surface, checking each door along the walls as she goes. Kicking one in frustration when she finds it locked, she then moves on to the end of the corridor.

She pauses, hands on hips in front of my office door and turns, looking up at the ceiling, checking for cameras but they’re too small to see.

“Don't do it,” I whisper.

Go back upstairs, show a little remorse for what you've done. I want her to turn around so badly.

I don't want her to prove me right, that rogues can’t be trusted.

But as I watch as she rests her hand on the door handle and twists using her shoulder to shove it open an inch or two, I know I’m not going to get my wish.

Jamie hesitates before entering and I hold my breath.

Turn back. Turn back.

But instead, she shoves the door open and crosses the threshold into my most private space. As she sneaks inside and closes the door quietly behind her, I stop walking.

A feeling of devastating loss washes over me. I don’t trust easily. I’ve never let a woman into my home. It feels like a betrayal.

I feel my insides hardening.

It’s the same feeling I used to get when I wished my father was a different man, and he proved me wrong, time and time again. I can't let my emotions trick me into believing somebody is something that they're not.

So now I must deal with her like I would any other trespasser, no matter how much it hurts me.