26. Remy

REMY

I found Aleks sitting sullenly on the nature strip of a run-down suburb, picking out clumps of grass in annoyed handfuls and scattering them in the wind. There was a small cut on his forehead and a thin trail of blood running down his face. The collar of his t-shirt was torn slightly and the skin beneath reddened, like he'd been grabbed forcefully.

Clearly he'd been a little less forthcoming on how badly the altercation had gone.

"Hey mate," I said, sitting down next to him. "Remy." I extended my hand. I wasn't sure if he was going to take it but he did after a beat.

"Aleks." He released me quickly. "Do you actually want to be here?" he asked me curtly.

I joined him in maiming the innocent lawn. "I do," I said truthfully.

"Why?"

Because Hazel asked me to.

Because my dad is an asshole too.

And weirdly…because I feel like I should.

"It's complicated."

Aleks turned back to his bald patch of grass. "Great."

I looked at the houses around me. "Which one is yours?"

Aleks pointed at one further down. "Not mine anymore," he muttered.

"Do you still have your key?"

"Yeah."

I glanced up at the darkening sky. "Right. Let's go then." I held out my hand and Aleks stared at it. "Key," I prompted. He dropped it in my palm and I closed my fist around it as I stood up.

"It just sucks, you know," Aleks said, wincing slightly as his weight shifted to one arm as he got to his feet. "I'm just sick and tired of chalking his fucked-up behaviour up to alpha bullshit you know?"

Something in my chest lurched, a slumbering giant awakening from the deep unknown. "In and out, ok? Move quick and only get what you can't replace."

He nodded and we set off towards the house, our steps aligning.

An idea lit up in my head. "I assume you did most of the house maintenance? Cleaning and what not?"

"Yes," Aleks scoffed. "That man would leave a dish in the sink until it became its own ecosystem."

I gagged. "Thanks, I think."

I slid the key into the door and pushed it open loudly. "Honey, I'm home!" I chorused, gesturing to Aleks that he should get inside quickly.

Aleks' father looked nothing like him. He reminded me a bit of an old-timey muscle man, his limbs strangely out of proportion with his barrel-like chest. "Who do you think you are?" he barked. "You think you can just walk into my house?" I could sense his dominance rising, preparing to contest me.

I glanced at the fist-shaped hole in the wall beside me.

I thought of all the ways alphas used their designation to crush those they deemed weaker.

Of the way Hazel had looked at me when she trusted me to help.

(And truthfully, my parents).

The motivational gunpowder of a thousand rallying war cries was set alight inside me.

This alpha was nothing.

My voice seemed to split, both alpha and man speaking. "You are lucky that I'm only here to help him," I thundered.

It hit him like a physical blow, his eyes widening as I won our battle of wills in his own home. He didn't even realise Aleks had slipped past him, disappearing down the hall.

Now to distract the motherfucker to buy Aleks some time.

I pointed at the rug that was hanging on the wall. "This is nice," I told him magnanimously. "You should hang it in the hallway, though. To cover that big hole you put in it. Aren't rugs meant to go on the floor though?"

It was important that I kept moving, kept him off balance so he wouldn't try and come at me physically. He was shaken by our contest and I couldn't let him find his feet.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat out.

"So rude of me." I smacked my forehead, continuing to move through the house. "Remy. I would ask your name but honestly? I don't really care. May I call you shit-for-brains?"

"You fucking—"

"Thanks, shit-for-brains."

I dodged past him and wandered into the kitchen. Two of the dining chairs lay horizontal on the floor. I could see his absolutely piss-poor attempt at cleaning up the beer Aleks had thrown at him — a few squares of soggy paper towels sitting sadly on the floor.

He was really going to hate cleaning up what I was about to do.

"You need to get the fuck out of my house."

I opened a few cupboards (without shutting them, of course) until I'd found what I was after. "Your son invited me." I gave him my most sincere smile as I turned to face him, olive oil bottle in hand.

Then I began drizzling it all over the tiles like I was dressing a big ol' bowl of salad.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" he roared.

Aleks appeared, duffle bag in hand.

"You good?" I asked him, continuing to back away.

He nodded and his father spun around, a snarl forming on his face.

"Oi!" I called out.

I abandoned the olive oil. There was a decorative looking tin sitting on the benchtop and I ripped off the lid. Loose leaf tea. Perfect. I grabbed a fistful, showering little dark leaves everywhere.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" he screamed.

I kept going, along the carpet, down the hall. Grab and throw. Small, lovely-smelling fireworks, fluttering prettily all over the floor. Aleks flung the door open and stepped through. I was moments behind him and threw the empty canister directly at his father, who caught it with a shocked expression.

Aleks surprised me by stepping between us, facing his dad head-on.

"Good thing mum's dead, right? So she didn't have to see what you've become."

I could still hear his howls of rage as Aleks slammed the door behind him.

We were sprinting back to my car. We were bank robbers, prison breakers. High off escape, high off the thrill of what we'd just managed to get away with.

My brakes screeched as I tore out of there.

"Holy fuck." Aleks gripped the dashboard, his duffle in his lap. "I can't believe I said that to him."

I gestured at his bag. "Did you get everything?"

"My passport, IDs, cash. All important documents related to uni and my placement. Grabbed some clothes but I can replace most of it," he rifled off then glanced at me. "And my mother's ring."

"Good haul," I approved. "Anything you wish you'd gotten but couldn't carry?"

Aleks groaned and his head dropped into his hands. "My entire box set of the Chronicles of the Sunken Army series."

"No way!" I exclaimed. "I've got them too. You can just read mine."

"Did you hear that they're making a series?"

"Yes! With the Shifter Moon show runners!" I paused. "I'm nervous, I hope they don't fuck it up."

"Shit, I know right?"

We seemed to reach the exact confusing realisation at once — that it really didn't feel like we had only properly met each other less than an hour ago.

Naturally the only solution was to drive in silence, staring at the road ahead.