Chapter 4

Robert Montgomery

"I still don't understand how you were ambushed so easily!"

I glance at Morris, pacing before me, and raise my brows. "I told you. I had an appointment with an informant. I went to our meeting spot, at the arranged time, and bam, there they were. Do you want me to walk you through it again? Should I write it down for you?"

Morris Wolfguard gives me a scathing look. "No. Don't bother."

Seeing my college friend and Alpha of the Wolfguard Pack so frustrated would be entertaining if it weren't for the serious nature of the situation.

"Harry said it was a vampire who saved your life," Morris shoots out. "However, we walked down the street, and he didn't remember the place. None of the clean-up crew do. It's so odd. It's almost as if someone messed with their memories. And you can't remember much, either."

I look out into the yard. The sun is setting.

It's not that I don't remember anything.

I remember a pair of green eyes filled with frustration. I remember a soft touch that set my skin on fire, and the cold, icy scent that could belong only to a vampire. I remember my wolf howling within me, bursting through my skin, and the desire to protect an overwhelming need.

And then there was that pleasure—that sharp, aching pleasure. Someone's mouth on my neck, gentle hands, and a greedy desire building within me.

I can't make sense of any of it.

I've considered telling Morris all this, but something stops me.

"Magic," I murmur after a while. "The vampire must have some sort of protection spell on her. That's why nobody remembers her."

"Magic?" Morris gives me an incredulous look. "We don't have witches or warlocks here, remember? They mostly reside in Europe because of the relaxed restraints on them there."

"Doesn't mean one or two aren't settled here," I point out. "If you have a better idea about why no one seems to remember the vampire or the location, why don't you fill me in?"

"Why are you being so testy?" Morris demands.

"Because I got ambushed by two vampires and nearly died, and my informant either ratted me out or is dead." I give my friend a tight smile. "I think I have a right to be on edge."

Morris sinks down next to me. "What I want to know is how they managed to attack you so badly?"

The anger in his voice echoes within me.

I try to think back to that scene, two nights ago. "I had gotten out of the car. I remember someone grabbing my arms from behind. Before I could react, I felt something being injected into my neck, and after that, everything was a blur."

"Maria said it was extremely potent wolfsbane," Morris murmurs thoughtfully.

Maria is a senior healer in Morris's pack. She is also the future mate of Morris's brother-in-law, my adopted brother and assistant, Harry Montgomery.

"But she said she's never seen anything like it," I respond. "I still feel light-headed, even though she removed all trace of the wolfsbane in me."

"Someone else removed most of it before she got to you." Morris doesn't look too happy about that. "I want to know who it was. And to what extent that vampire was involved." He taps his fingers on the arm of the couch and looks at me. "What did your healer say?"

"Dominic thinks there was a drug in that wolfsbane, the same type that's still circulating in our kind," I reveal. "But because the traces of the wolfsbane were already so weak, he couldn't find much to work with. He's been talking to Maria. But at the end of the day, Morris, it should not have been so easy to incapacitate an Alpha. Clearly, the vampires are upping their game."

Morris is silent, his expression heavy.

"None of this is good, Robert. I'm beginning to think the only way to resolve this entire situation is to wipe out these vampires. They're like leeches, refusing to budge. The Nelo Clan is at the top of the list."

I start at his words. "You're proposing a war, Morris. You know what will happen if we attempt this. Even the humans will get involved."

"Not if we keep it all under wraps," Morris replies sharply. "If the Montgomery Pack and the Moore Pack join my pack for this, we might be able to control the backlash. If you talk to Adam Moore, we might be able to deal with this problem once and for all."

He's clearly given this some thought, I realize. But vampires aren't easy to subdue. If they were, our ancestors would have driven them out centuries ago. There was once a war between vampires and wolf shifters, back in the fifteenth century. The results of that war have never come to light. In fact, a major part of our history has been wiped from our archives. But we do know that wolf shifters and vampires have always hated each other.

"I'll consider it," I say slowly, just as there is a knock on the door. "Come in."

Harry Montgomery, once known as Harry Hart, walks in.

When I became Alpha, I adopted Harry and his older sister, Aisha, into my pack as my family unit. Now, Aisha is the Alpha Female of the Wolfguard Pack, married and mated to Morris, and Harry is my most trusted right-hand man. He's in his early twenties now, and I sent him to the best business university out there. He's intelligent and capable, and since I have no child of my own, I'm considering nominating him as the next Alpha of my pack, whenever that happens.

"Anything?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "I went around the shops. All of them have glass doors and the same shutters. I tried to check their security cameras but someone had wiped them all."

"The bloodsuckers?" Morris's eyes narrow, but Harry just shrugs.

"I really don't know. Could be, since the camera covering your car and the attack was also wiped for that entire day."

Harry looks tense, and I know he's feeling guilty.

"You did a good job, Harry," I assure him. "There are external forces at play here. Don't worry. You did what you could."

"There was something else," Harry suddenly says. "She had a huge black eye. Her left eye. I remember that because I wondered why it wasn't healing."

"It's probably already healed by now," Morris says dismissively.

I become lost in thought at Harry's words. From what he told me, it had taken him around fifteen minutes to arrive at the location. The eye should have healed to quite an extent in that amount of time.

I let Harry and Morris launch into a discussion about Toby, Morris's ten-year-old son's upcoming birthday party. My brain is otherwise occupied.

It's been two days, and I have a business to run. I should return to work and simply be more vigilant from now on. If the vampires have come up with a way to weaken an Alpha, that is not good news in the slightest. It means we are in more trouble than we realize.

I know why Morris changed the topic. While Harry is now technically an adult, Morris is quite protective of him. He doesn't want Harry to be too entrenched in this fight with the vampires.

"You okay, Robert?" Morris asks as he's finally leaving, his brother-in-law in tow.

I nod. "Yeah. I'll probably get some food and then head to bed. I feel pretty tired."

"Maria said that would happen," Harry pipes up. "She said the wolfsbane in your blood was really potent, so you'll still feel a little weak. I'll order you some rare steak burgers."

"Thanks." I hear the door close behind them before slumping back into the couch cushions.

There are a few things still puzzling me.

My wolf's reaction.

I remember feeling weak, the wolfsbane muting my animal. But there was a surge of protectiveness, an adrenaline rush that had me shifting, working against the wolfsbane that was killing me. I remember blood in my mouth and an icy scent that was also undeniably sweet. My wolf's response to that scent is ingrained in my memory.

I don't remember anything but that scent.

It was so familiar, but I can't place it.

My wolf's reaction bothers me. It should not have reacted that way to a vampire, especially when I had been fatally poisoned. It should have been more focused on getting us to safety.

I let out a sigh, my hands touching the scarred part of my face. I can feel the parts where my skin is raised, and I don't have to look in a mirror to know how hideous it looks. Years have passed since the incident that led to this; most of the people involved are dead or in exile, but it still haunts me, that memory.

I still became the Alpha, something my father thought he could prevent by not getting me the treatment when my half-siblings held me down and poured liquid wolfsbane all over my face. The scar, though, is a constant reminder that I am lacking. I swore to myself, when I was young and hurting, that I would never let this disfigurement hold me back. And I haven't.

I've achieved close to everything I wanted. My pack is running smoothly. It's prospering. The policies of my greedy family have been replaced by ones that benefit the whole pack, not just those in power. It has been a couple of long years, but it's all been worth it.

Getting to my feet, I gaze out into the yard, my thoughts a ball of tangled threads.

A knock on the door has me looking around, only to see the housekeeper.

"Mrs. Mallory," I say, smiling at her. "What're you doing back so early? I thought you were planning to spend another two weeks with your daughter."

"I was." The elderly woman beams at me. "I just came by to drop off some food and pick up my paycheck. You messaged me about it, remember?"

Mrs. Mallory is a widow and prefers the old-fashioned form of salary payment where I write her a check rather than deposit the money in her account.

"Of course." I reach for my wallet and bring out a folded check. "Here you go."

"I came in through the kitchen entrance," she tells me. "The food is in the fridge. Don't overwork yourself, now, while I'm gone."

"Of course not, Mrs. Mallory." I give her another warm smile. "Do you want me to drop you off at the bus station?"

"No, no," she replies, waving her hand at me. "Nellie drove me. I'll see you in two weeks."

I watch her leave, and when I hear the door close, my smile fades.

Mrs. Mallory's husband used to work in my office as a security guard before he passed away last year. She wanted to remain independent of their children, so I gave the elderly widow a job managing my house. She enjoys it, and I get hot meals and an organized home. She's a sweet old lady, and her presence in this house that I built for myself makes me feel a little less alone.

Sighing, I head to the kitchen to see what Mrs. Mallory has left for me.

I really don't have the time to while away at home when I have a business to run and a pack to protect. The fact that Harry couldn't remember the face of the vampire who helped me bothers me more than I'm letting on. If there is a warlock or a witch in our midst, whose side are they on?

My jaw tenses.

We've already started unifying some of the local packs in the area to boycott all vampire-owned businesses. The bloodsuckers have a hard-on for me and every Alpha involved in this boycott. So far, we've been landing some major financial blows, but the vampires aren't backing off easily. It's a stalemate, from where we're standing.

However, if they have a warlock on their side, that's going to pose a problem for us.

My hand tightens on the fridge door handle.

I have to get to the bottom of this situation.

While we still may be able to control it.

******

I'm feeling more energetic by the next morning, most of the wolfsbane having left my system. Since I have quite a lot of work to catch up on, I head into the office early. It's close to six in the morning as I pull the car into the vacant parking lot. The streets are still empty, so when I hear the soft groan, I look over my shoulder and see a familiar-looking woman carrying a trash bin out of the coffee shop across the road.

I find myself staring at the wild red curls that frame a soft face with such green eyes unlike anything I've ever seen before. Her lips are pouty and distracting.

I remember staring at them the other day when she served me coffee.

My hand stills on the roof of the car.

Portland isn't a small city by any means, so I hadn't been very surprised to catch a vampire's scent in the cafe on most days. However, I never realized the reason for that constant, particular smell was because one of their employees was a vampire. Not till I came face to face with a nervous redhead with deep green eyes that shone with specks of gold when the light hit them.

I slowly close the door, recalling the way she cut her hand on the knife she had been trying to hide from me.

That wound—did it heal?

I find my feet moving toward the coffee shop before I can stop myself. I can see her wiping down the counter now, having already gone back inside while I was staring at her, deep in thought. The bell attached to the glass door jingles when I open it, and she looks up. I see the alarm in her eyes, followed by a flash of what can only be called fear.

"I—" Her eyes dart toward the back room, and her voice is tense. "Can I help you?"

The mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread fills the entire shop. When I step toward the counter, the female vampire immediately moves backward, as if terrified of me.

"Do you need something?"

I blink slowly. "Yeah. Coffee, please."

Relief is stark on her face. "Of course, yeah. Right away."

Her hands are shaking as she reaches for a to-go cup, and my eyes fall on the bandage around her palm. "Your cut hasn't healed yet?"

She looks like a little bunny, frozen in place as if any attempt to move on her part will force her to answer my question. She's amusing, if anything. However, my good humor disappears when it hits me that a vampire who should have incredible healing powers has not recovered from what should have been a simple cut. It's been close to two weeks now. Even humans heal faster than this.

My eyes automatically move to her left eye as I recall Harry's words.

"You're wearing makeup," I murmur. And a lot of it.

It doesn't hide the light swelling around her left eye, though.

Taking another step forward, I discreetly sniff her, and my eyes sharpen.

It's that same scent, the icy one with the odd hint of sweetness. Vampires all carry that same icy scent, which is what makes it so hard to distinguish them by scent alone. But this one, she has a trace of sweetness under that icy scent of hers. The realization follows almost instantly: she is the vampire who saved me!

Is that why she looks so scared of me right now?

"You—"

"Charlotte, can you lend me a hand in—"

A plump older woman walks out of the kitchen, her head wrapped in a hairnet, her face red and flushed.

"Oh!" She is surprised to see me. It doesn't escape my notice the way her eyes linger on my scarred face. I'm used to it, so it doesn't bother me.

Charlotte.

It's an old-fashioned name, but it suits her well.

But why is a vampire working in a cafe? They all work in lofty positions in businesses owned and run by their respective clans. Status and power are everything to them. I've never met one who works in what their kind would consider a menial job.

When I saw her the other day, I was curious and wary, and I decided to keep my eye on her in case she had been sent here as a spy. I even went so far as to do a background check on her. Her name is Charlotte Beaumont. I couldn't find any vampire families with that surname on this side of the world. She's an enigma, but ever since our first meeting two weeks ago, she seems more frightened of me than suspicious. If a spy had been planted across the road from my office, they would be using something like the bracelet I designed a couple of years ago. It's a scent blocker, and while it's wildly expensive, I'm sure a spy would be using it.

Charlotte jumps at the chance to escape and quickly puts down the cup. "Why don't you help this customer? I'll go and—"

"No, no," the woman interrupts, shaking her head. "You finish up here. I'll just put in the next batch of scones."

She turns around and goes back into the kitchen. Despite the situation, my lips twitch at the dismay on Charlotte's face. She really doesn't want to deal with me.

"What kind of coffee do you want?" she finally turns to me and asks, weakly.

"Cappuccino." I put my hands in my pockets. "What happened to your eye?"

Her body tenses, and her voice is uneasy. "Walked into a door."

"You seem to be very accident-prone."

To my surprise and amusement, she shoots me a dark look before turning around and preparing my drink.

As she puts in the coffee grounds, I ask lightly, "We met a few days ago, didn't we?"

She's quiet, and then she responds, "You came in to get some coffee."

"I meant at night."

"No, we didn't." Her voice is a little calmer than before. It's as if having her back to me is giving her the time to compose herself. "Do you want one espresso shot or two?"

"One," I murmur, my eyes fixed on her slender back. She's got a full figure, slim but curvy, a generous chest, and a perfectly shaped behind. It feels like I'm leering at her; ashamed, I focus my gaze on the back of her neck. Normally, if I'm in close proximity to a vampire, my wolf is uneasy, sensing the threat, but Charlotte doesn't incite the same reaction.

My wolf is watchful and curious—and a little playful, for some reason.

She doesn't feel like a threat to it.

However, if I let my wolf decide everything for me, what kind of Alpha would I be? I'll have to keep an eye on her. Even if the scent is familiar, and she seems to have a bruise on her eye, I still need to be sure she's the one who rescued me. But what does it mean if it was her? Why would she save my life? Was it to gain my trust?

If that were the case, she wouldn't be pretending not to know me right now.

"Which clan are you from?" I ask abruptly.

This time, I see a response in the way her shoulders turn stiff. She takes a good minute to reply, and there is no small amount of hostility in her voice when she does.

"How is that your business?"

"You're in my territory, little vampire," I say, studying her. "That makes it my business."

The look of annoyance she shoots at me makes me wonder if she really is all that scared of me. But I'm not wrong. Portland, like every other city out there, is divided into territories that are run by different wolf packs and vampire clans. The restrictions are limited to living accommodations and jobs. Those who want to work in other territories have to request permission. Since most of the wolf packs in Portland are allied, they don't make a huge deal over wolves from other territories working in theirs. But vampires are different. At first, they used to be allowed special permits to carry out business in our territories, but now, slowly but steadily, we are pushing them out.

Their own territory is small, and while they are able to carry out profitable ventures, losing out on the gains from the other territories is too massive a blow.

It was easy to weed the vampires out of my territory because all that entailed was shutting down their businesses and canceling their leases on the buildings their businesses were being run out of. However, I never expected them to work in places like coffee shops, which is why I'm suspicious of Charlotte's intentions.

"You can't stop me from working here." She turns to look at me, putting my coffee down on the counter in front of me. "I don't work for you. This is a human-owned establishment."

"Sure." I give her a small smile. "But the rules are clear. Vampires are not allowed to do business in my territory."

Her eyes sharpen. "But I'm not doing business in your territory, am I? I'm working a minimum wage job to support myself. Is that a crime? Did you come here just to harass me?"

I raise a surprised brow. It turns out the meek little girl has some claws that she was hiding.

"Did your clan not inform you that vampires are no longer allowed to conduct business in my territory?" I ask coolly.

"No, they didn't," Charlotte replies, her voice tight. "Because I don't have a clan. And I am just working in a cafe. I'm not running a business. I'm not getting any profits. So, why are you bothering me again?"

Her words take me by surprise. "What do you mean, you don't have a clan?"

"I was exiled," she tells me. "Not that it's any of your business."

"From which clan?"

"Also none of your business. Now, do you want your coffee or not? It's seven ninety-five."

She holds out her hand expectantly, and my eyes narrow. "The board behind you says three twenty."

"The rest is for ruining my morning," she says bluntly.

I find myself coughing up the cash, unable to deny her that. "This is extortion."

She just shrugs.

As I walk out with my coffee, knowing she's not going to answer any of my questions this easily, my lips twitch again.

She's cute.

And possibly dangerous.

I'll have to dig deeper into Charlotte.

If she has any secrets, I'll find them.