8. Casper

I'm tempted to wake Jasmine with a kiss, as promised, but she doesn't even stir as I slide out of bed. I'm not sure if it's the mission that sapped her energy or my attempts to send her to sleep with a smile. My ego decides it was all me, and I'm buzzing as I tuck the comforter around her. It smells like caramel apples, and I reluctantly pull a sweater over my Jasmine-scented skin. I dig a pair of drawstring pants out of my dresser and then sneak out of the suite in search of breakfast. One thing I can say for my injury is that my other senses have become keener, and my nose can pinpoint Xavier's organic Peruvian roast from any corner of the residence.

It's still a slow-ass process to make my way down the stairwell and across the third floor to the living room. Xavier described it to me as an open plan space with floor-to-ceiling windows, a long stone dining table, and a couple of fancy leather sectionals. Masculine, but comfortable, especially with all the rugs the guys have added for my benefit. They provide a safe pathway across the room, although I'm still prone to stubbing the crap out of my toes if I let my mind wander.

That's because you've spent weeks holed up in your suite, torturing yourself with all the things you can no longer see.

"Casper!" Xavier sounds so happy to see me, I feel a rush of affection for the alpha. He's not as flirtatious as Declan, or as stalkerish as Erik, but he's always the first one to touch me as I enter a room. He comes up to me now, smelling like woodsmoke and coffee, and gently rests his hand on my arm. "It's so good to see you down here. Are you hungry?"

My stomach gurgles on cue. "I'm definitely thirsty. Your coffee is witchcraft, Xavi. I swear I floated down here on its fumes."

He chuckles, leading me over to the table by the pressure of his fingertips alone. "It's a new roast. An apple and raw sugar blend with just a touch of honey. It's sweeter than that dark chocolate one you like."

I raise my brows, thinking of Jasmine coming apart under my fingers. The memory sends a throb to my groin and plasters a smug grin on my face. "I'm on a bit of a caramel apple kick at the moment, so it sounds good to me."

"Smells pretty good, too," Erik replies, a hint of envy in his voice.

I'm pretty sure they both know what I got up to last night. Not only did I skip a shower, but these guys are uber alphas, which means their senses are off-the-charts powerful. My grin widens as I feel my way into my seat. "Jasmine's as sweet as they come. Best courting gift you could've given me, by the way."

They both freeze, Erik going so still I'd think he'd left the room if I couldn't still smell him. "She told you?" he asks, cautious as ever. "About the offer to be our pack companion?"

"She did." I shake my head at them as I reach for the basket of bagels I know are right in front of me. Xavier makes sure the table is always set in the exact same way, with everything I like in arm's reach. "I can forgive you, Xavi, because you're a lawyer and you think everything can be solved with a contract. But Erik," I turn in the alpha's direction and click my tongue at him. "You've watched me long enough to know I prefer the direct approach. If you want to court me – and if you want Jasmine to stay – you just have to ask."

"They didn't want to spook you and frighten you off," Declan says from behind me, sauntering into the room on a wave of bourbon and heartbreak. I don't know what any of the guys look like since we didn't meet until after my injury, but Declan's voice always makes my heart flutter. He's from Texas, and for some reason that slow, musical drawl is catnip to my ears. Which maybe explains why, even in the depths of my depression, I've managed to make out with him a couple of times. Nothing serious, but having that voice pant in my ear while we got each other off is one of the highlights of the last few months.

"You look like you had some sweet dreams, darlin'," he drawls as he flops into the chair at my side and kisses my cheek.

His amber scent is heavily laced with liquor, and I nudge him away. "And you smell like you slept in a whiskey barrel." Direct approach, remember? "Jasmine said you were out on a mission. Was it bad?"

"Same ole, same ole," he murmurs, but I can hear the pain in his voice, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. Declan threads our fingers together and rubs them against the morning scruff on his cheek. "We got one of ‘em out, though, so I guess we can call it a win."

"And we're a huge step closer to shutting down Litchfield altogether," Erik adds, his tone firm. I've noticed that Xavier tries to talk Declan out of his dark moods, while Erik tends to ignore them. Not because he's callous, but because in his ordered world, feelings are an obstacle to getting the job done. "The omega we rescued confirmed the location of his warehouse. We'll have the place shut down in the next couple of days."

A vicious little spark kindles in my chest at the thought of another omega abuser getting Volk justice. I haven't exactly been much of a contributor to cleaning up the club, but that changes from today. "Good work, guys. That'll be another asshole off the streets, thanks to you."

Declan grunts, but there's a teasing note in his voice as he says, "But back to more pleasant things, hmm? Are you happy with us courtin' you, sugar? If you say yes, I've a whole repertoire of love songs I'm gonna unleash on you."

I snort, but I'm pretty sure there's no hiding the happy flush on my cheeks. "Maybe we should write one together. I'll do the score and you can come up with the lyrics." There's a beat of silence and I twist my head, trying to catch the mood in the room. "What did I say?"

"You haven't really talked about your music much," Xavier says carefully. "And it's the first time you've said you want to compose something new."

"I guess I just wasn't in a creative mood before." My reply is flippant, and I fiddle with my fork, that heat in my cheeks traveling down to my chest. "I mean… I'm sorry if I've been a sulky shit, okay? I just didn't know how to pull myself out of it."

"You had every reason to be upset…"

Xavier is using his soothing tone, but I shake my head. "Music's always been my escape. You'd think that wouldn't change with my injury, but so much of playing is about what you see… The notes, the keys, even the placement of your fingers. And every time I thought about touching a piano, all I could think was that I'd never find the right notes again. And if I did, I was scared they wouldn't sound the same way." I turn to Declan, who maybe understands this the best of the three alphas. "Does that make sense?"

"One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing' star," he murmurs in a professor's voice, and my brows shoot up.

"Did you just quote Jim Morrison?"

"Nietzsche," Xavier says with a grunt of amusement. "What were you saying about sulky shits, Casper?"

"I wasn't the one who nearly ubered out last night," Declan fires back. "Anyone who came in sniffin' distance of Jasmine got served the ole Xavier death stare."

"Ooh!" I sit up straighter, my smile now so wide my cheeks ache. "Tell me more. Was there eyeshine? A threatening growl? Please tell me you protected her with your strong, manly arms, Xavi."

"More like pissed in a circle around her," Declan laughs. "I had to keep back so he didn't splash my shoes."

Xavier chokes on his coffee, but I wave a hand. "That's great. You need to make her feel wanted. But you can't be too alpha about it or you might freak her out."

Erik grunts from the other side of the table. "What does ‘too alpha' mean?"

"It means you can't treat her like a mission objective." Okay, so that was probably too direct. "Do you know what she said when I asked her if she's ever met an alpha she can trust?" I wait a beat, until I'm certain I have their attention. "Never one in a position of power. And she's been around this city's elite all her life."

"Which means we have to get her to trust us," Xavier says softly.

"Exactly. I've told her you're the good guys, but you have to prove it. And that means getting her sister away from their asshole of a father."

"We already have a file on him," Erik says, and I turn to face him. I might not be able to read his expression, but I really can pick up a lot with my other senses. And he smells like lightning sparking off jet fuel right now. "The guy's toxic. Definitely in our top three."

I sit forward, curious. "Jasmine told me her dad's drug company got sued over one of their trials."

"Crenshaw Pharmaceuticals," Xavier confirms. "The FDA threw the book at them. I heard that Lachlan had a lot of his own money invested and was facing bankruptcy, but he was bailed out."

"By Kayden Sawyer." I stab my knife into a piece of bacon but make no effort to eat it. Talking about these assholes is killing my appetite. "Jasmine said that when her dad couldn't cover the loan, he offered her up to Sawyer as payment."

"Lord above," Declan mutters. "No wonder she hates our asses."

"She doesn't hate you," I reply, "but she's never had an alpha step up for her. And it all comes back to her sister. She's the next one in the firing line if Jas doesn't become part of the Sawyer Pack."

"Not going to happen," Erik says in his mission command voice. "I'm going to check out the Crenshaw Estate this afternoon and if I see a window, I'll get her out."

"Seriously? Jasmine will be over the moon." I'm tempted to run upstairs and tell her, but then I tune back into the conversation and realize they're talking about the Sawyer packmate who brought Jasmine to the club. It was some kind of double-cross against his pack alpha, but I didn't pay much attention to the details at the time. "Wait up! Are you saying that Sawyer asshole is still in the building?"

"He's in a secure location," Erik assures me.

"In the club?"

"A little further south," Declan murmurs. "You haven't been down to the dungeon yet, have you, sugar?"

Xavier makes a scolding sound. "Dec, don't call it a dungeon."

"My apologies. I meant a fully soundproofed torture chamber with advanced self-sanitizing features."

Xavier mutters something under his breath, but I'm already on my feet. "I want to see. I mean, I want to hear what the asshole has to say."

Declan snorts. "It's mostly no. Stop. Please. A lot of cuss words, and a smatterin' of beggin' and sobbin'."

I nudge him hard, but thankfully Erik doesn't share his sense of humor. "I'll take you to him, but what are you hoping to hear, Casper? He's already told us most of what he knows about the Sawyer operation. We're planning to hold on to him in case we need to lure Kayden out, but other than that, he's of no further use to us."

I'd shiver at the emotionless way Erik talks about the guy they have in their dungeon if I didn't know he's trying to protect me. And according to Xavier, Erik is the best judge of character he's ever met. If you end up in his torture chamber, you no doubt deserve to be there. "I'm not expecting anything, really. But this guy tried to bargain with Jasmine's life. I guess I want to hear him say how much he regrets it."

"Fair enough," Declan says as he stands and claps me across the shoulder, his amber scent teasing my nose. "Some heartfelt beggin' and sobbin' coming right up."

I don't know if it's a dungeon, but the room they take me to is cold and quiet, the polished stone chilly beneath my bare feet. There's no begging or sobbing, but as Declan shows me to a chair, I tune into the powerful hum of an air-conditioning unit. Makes me wonder if this is part of the self-sanitizing features he mentioned, since there's definitely a whiff of industrial bleach in the air. There's also a wall of tinted glass between me and the other guys, since Erik doesn't want me talking to the Sawyer scum directly. I'm not sure why. He was the one who carried me out of the club in Boston, so he knows I'm no stranger to the worst of his designation.

I've just settled into the chair when there's the distant thud of a door and the pleading starts up. I've never met Darren Morgan, so I can't tell if the broken whine is his usual voice or the result of Volk hospitality. But he's blubbering as soon as they enter the room, chair legs squeaking on the stone floor. I don't know if he collapsed onto the thing, or if Erik is threatening to hit him with it, but I can imagine both scenarios. It's frustrating not to be staring into the asshole's eyes, but maybe it's a blessing, too.

"You're after Sawyer, right?" he croaks, and I imagine I can smell the stink of his fear through the glass. "Let me go, and I'll serve him up to you on a platter. In pieces, if you fucking want me to!"

"When we deal with Kayden Sawyer, we'll do it ourselves," Xavier replies in an ice-cold tone. If there's a voice you don't want to hear on Judgement Day, I'm pretty sure it would sound like that.

"Then what do you want, man?" Morgan whines. "I know all his shit. Plus, I've got dirt on nearly every fucker in this city. I'm telling you, I know where all the bodies are buried!"

"So you've said," Erik replies, his voice almost robotic through the speaker. "And we've got the transcripts detailing your involvement in those murders. But now we want you to tell us what you know about Lachlan Crenshaw. What's his weak spot?"

"Crenshaw?" He gives a low, dirty laugh. "Is this about his bitch daughter?"

The thud that reverberates through the speakers makes me jump, while Morgan wails like he just lost a limb. "Fuck, man! That fucking hurt!"

"Then I suggest you watch your mouth," Xavier says in his best iceman impression. "We won't have much use for you if I rip out your tongue, will we?"

Whoa. So maybe Xavi's not feeling so chill, after all.

"Jesus. Okay! All I know is he's in deep to us for a lot of dough. I figured the guy was dead meat, but Kayden said he was happy to settle the debt for a piece of Crenshaw ass."

Thud!

"Shit! You knocked a tooth loose, man!" There's a scrambling sound and then Morgan blurts out, "Okay! Just give me a second to think without you pounding on me." He's sniffling, the chair squeaking, and I imagine him looking around like a cornered rat. "Yeah, um, Kayden told Porter, my other packmate, that Jasmine was the key to something. I thought he meant the Crenshaw name, you know? Like her being a blue blood, or whatever. And I know he planned to use her to get the company farts on side."

"What do you mean?"

"It's the company he wants, not her." A note of anger threads through Morgan's voice. "Look, the only bitch Kayden's ever wanted is his sister."

"His stepsister? Grace Rose?"

"Yeah, whatever the fuck she calls herself now. Kayden's obsessed with her. I mean, he had a prime piece like Jasmine, and he never touched her? I don't think he ever even planned to. He just wanted to use her to get Crenshaw's company. That's what the debt is about. Getting his foot in the door and taking over when he's ready to make a move. Kinda like what you guys have done here, am I right?"

There's a long pause, then Xavier says, "Kayden Sawyer doesn't strike me as the chief executive officer type. Why would he want Crenshaw Pharmaceuticals?"

"Because it's gonna be worth a fuckton, that's why." He must lean forward, the chair squeaking and his voice dropping low. "Look, there's this drug, okay? I heard him telling Porter about it. I don't know the science of it, except it's some hormone booster thing. He called it a game changer. I got curious, snooped around a bit, and it has something to do with changing designations. Like enhancing them and shit. You get my drift?"

Xavier gives a disdainful grunt. "You think he wants to make alphas into ubers?"

"Makes sense, doesn't it? Kayden fucking hates that he's not one. His old man was a beast, and it left him with a major complex. Plus, if he powers up, he can take on the Roses. Claim his sister-mate, or whatever the hell he thinks she is." The sneer is back in his voice, but then he gives a hefty sigh, like he's above all that pack drama. "The guy's fucking nuts, no question. But just think about the rest of it, yeah? If it's real, a drug like that will be worth trillions." Another chair squeak, the grin clear in Morgan's voice now. "And you guys will be as special as shit on my shoe."

I can't help fisting my hands on my knees. "Is he right?" I ask Declan. "Could a drug really do that?"

His scent spikes suddenly, like a hint of dark spice on my tongue. Even though Declan is the most affectionate with me, he's still a bit of an enigma. When I asked him if he's an uber like the other guys, he gave a cryptic laugh and told me he's gifted in other ways. Delivered in his usual flirting drawl, but even as he wraps an arm around me, drawing me close, I have to wonder if it was just deflection.

Does Declan want to be an uber? Is that why he always smells like whiskey-scented longing?

But he just squeezes me tight and says, "Sounds like the Sawyers have been readin' too many comic books to me."

I shrug. If a drug like that exists, I'll probably never know about it. "So what happens to him now?"

"Well, most folks who end up down here leave by one of two doors. Erik has a lot of contacts in law enforcement. But if they're really bad, really dangerous…"

The way he lets that hang, I'm guessing they get dragged out by their boots. "Whatever you guys decide, I'm in," I tell him.

"Whatever happens," Declan says, his hand a warm pressure against my scent gland, "you're safe, darlin' And the Sawyers are never gonna get their hands on Jasmine again."