Calla
The next few days were spent wondering what I'd gotten myself into. I'd gone from taking a job at the enemy's company to keeping company with the enemy. And in the middle of that, an injured human, a missing human, and now, a dead one.
The situation had escalated, and my actions with Rhys weren't making things any simpler.
After Rhys had showered and left my cabin, I'd remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if what I was experiencing with him was either the most charged connection I'd ever had, or my ticket to my own undoing.
It took hours for Dev and his team to process the scene and then begin to conduct interviews. Everyone present at the lodge, whether human or shifter, needed to be spoken to. I remained in my room awaiting my turn, eventually drifting off to sleep, using a pillow draped over me to simulate the weight of Rhys's arm as he held me to him.
Get it together, I thought to myself. He's having fun with you so that he doesn't have to deal with the real shit his pack is facing. You are nothing but a distraction.
Just after dawn, a knock on my door woke me.
"Calla, it's Dev. Can I speak with you?"
I hadn't expected him to come to me. Swinging my legs off the bed, I straightened the covers and then threw on a sweatshirt before opening the door for my bleary-eyed ex. "Come on in."
Inside, he sat on the same chair Aamon had and I took my place, perched on the edge of the bed.
Dev let out a long sigh before speaking. "I've interviewed both Rhys and Aamon."
"Let me guess: both of them had my name in their mouths."
He managed a tired smile. "Why don't you tell me what you think they said."
I studied Dev, wondering how much of the truth to reveal because I definitely wasn't going to lie to this man. He could spot the smallest fib from clear across town.
"Aamon told you I may have killed Zara because I saw her as competition for his affections and Rhys told you I couldn't have killed Zara but wouldn't tell you why he's so convinced of my innocence."
"That is...spot on. Jesus." He ran his finger through his hair and then leaned his head back against the wall. "What is going on, Calla? Do you know anything about Zara's murder?"
"Those are two loaded questions, Detective. The second part is easy to answer though: no, I have no clue who killed Zara or why. As for what's going on? Aamon is a fucking moron whose narcissistic tendencies have led him to believe no woman can resist his charm."
"Okay, that part I buy. And what about Rhys?"
"What about him?"
"It's me, Calla," he said, tapping his pen onto the pad of paper he'd been jotting down notes in. "Don't play games. Why is it that the first words out of Rhys's mouth as soon as we were alone in a room together was to swear to your innocence?"
Damnit Rhys. You overshot. "Why do you think that is?"
"Do you really want to know?"
I shrugged and then nodded. "Tell me your theory."
"I think the two of you were together at the time Zara was murdered. Rhys can't let anyone know that you are each other's alibis, but he also won't let Aamon get away with pinning this on you."
I let out a long breath. I didn't want Dev to have this private information pinned to the forefront of his mind, yet it was also a relief that he knew. "Rhys trusts you, Dev. He's not an idiot. Well, occasionally he is, but most of the time, he's of average intelligence and he knows you'll deduce what he's saying to you and guard our secret. You will, won't you?"
"It's a bad idea, Calla. The two of you getting entangled in some sort of unsanctioned mating."
"We aren't mates. Gross!" I scrunched up my nose and turned my head so I didn't have to look directly at him. "It was just a meaningless tryst. He doesn't mean anything to me, and I certainly mean nothing to him."
"Really? Is that why he told me if anyone from my team thought that they should follow up with Aamon's claim, he'd set fire to the precinct?"
"He was joking."
"Maybe. It sounded more like an Alpha trying to protect his Luna."
"I'm not his Luna." I stood up and tossed my hands in the air. I hadn't gotten enough sleep to deal with this. "Why am I even having this conversation with you? I already admitted that I was with Rhys when Zara was killed. That clears us both. Shouldn't you be moving on?"
"You know, for someone who doesn't care at all for Rhys Rawlings, your face turned as red as a strawberry when I said he's trying to protect you."
"Because it's embarrassing."
He shrugged. "Sometimes the truth is."
"Stop it, Dev. Do you have any real leads in this case?"
The floorboards creaked as he rose from the chair and stepped across them to get to the door. "You'll be the first to know."
Yet here we were, a month after Vicki's disappearance, and news was still scarce. "Somehow I doubt that."
***
Mid morning, I headed back to Sury, hitching a ride with Rhys's' cousin Celene, who, wanting to get back to her children, was one of the first of the pack to leave.
Celene was an interesting woman. She'd chosen to work as a high school English teacher rather than for Apex, even though her high-ranking status in the pack would have paved the way for her to enjoy a corner office and a lucrative salary. She was also divorced, a rarity amongst werewolves.
"He wasn't my mate," she told me on the drive home. "It was a convenience match that worked in the interests of our families, but not so much for us."
I nodded, holding back from spewing a litany of questions at her. This was one of my worst fears, that my mother would insist on mating and marrying me to someone like Barnett Barnett because it served a purpose for the family. My mother wasn't one for believing every werewolf belonged with their true mate if that true mate pairing didn't align with the pack's vision.
"A suitable male will be your mate if you are determined to make a connection work, Calla," she'd said to me more than once. "We all make such sacrifices."
That statement was rich coming from a woman who married her true mate and had lived a life of luxury ever since.
Then again, maybe she had a point. Obviously, she'd been wrong about Barnett, but there could be another man out there that I wasn't giving a shot to. I might be overlooking someone because I had some romantic notion that I'd know immediately if the pull to them was because we were fated mates. Maybe it wasn't as cut and dry as I thought it should be.
"Did you always know he wasn't your mate?"
"Oh, absolutely," Celene said, laughing. "Right from day one. But I still have faith that my true mate is out there." One hand on the wheel, she waved the other across the open road ahead of us like a wizard waving her wand. "Somewhere. And when I do find him, I'll know. After all, it's not like you can communicate feelings and even words with just anyone. I never could do that with George."
I nodded and stared out the window. What did that mean, that I'd been able to explore a psychic bond with Rhys, when we weren't really anything to each other let alone mates? It seemed like the universe was playing a cruel joke on both of us.
The days that followed proved tenser than the inside of a pressure cooker. Once the media got wind of Zara's murder, anti-werewolf protests increased, spilling over from the neutral territory into werewolf-controlled lands.
I spent most of my time calming nerves and putting out fires.
"We're working closely with human authorities to solve this heinous crime." I said this sentence in varying ways at least two dozen times in two days to all the major news outlets.
Even with beefed up security, all of us were looking over our shoulders more than usual. And if we were on edge, that was nothing compared to what our human employees were experiencing.
They really couldn't win. What used to be prized positions amongst humans was now shunned. Humans working for Apex were working for the enemy. Several quit the first week after Zara's murder. They cited the growing security concerns and backlash from anti-werewolf humans, but I had a feeling more than a few were worried that if they didn't get out of Apex before the next full moon, they'd share Zara's fate.
They had every right to be fearful, as far as I was concerned. Zara's murder was only half of it. Had I been in their shoes and found out that Vicki had entered the building a month ago, never to return, I'd run for the hills too.
Vicki...She came to my mind day after day. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We should be going out on the weekends, drinking too many margaritas as we flirted with the bartender at the hole in the wall pub Vicki loved to frequent. I'd tell her about Rhys—she'd be the only person in the world that I'd confide in. If she were here, I wouldn't feel so lost. She'd know what to say, what to do. She'd have an opinion on him—she'd give me advice and I'd follow it.
My heart sank as I imagined the conversations I wouldn't get to have with my friend. Where was she? Was she even still alive? Why was it that no one seemed to be able to find her?
I stared at the results from a recent poll taken of one thousand Surry residents regarding their werewolf views. I knew the results would be dismal, but my brain couldn't seem to take in the info. My friend was still missing, and what had I done? Chase dead ends and then have sex—more than once—with someone who could have a connection to the person who did something to her.
What was wrong with me?
"I've been trying to block you out all day, but you're making it kind of difficult."
Rhys's voice jolted me back to the present.
I shivered and then composed myself. "I don't know what you mean."
Since we'd been back at the office, we'd both done our best to maintain a professional distance from each other. It was for the best—we both knew it—but sometimes it seemed Rhys was grateful that all the emotions between us were being quashed. It stung a bit, but I had bigger issues to contend with at present.
Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair, and twirling a pencil around his fingers. "You're sad as fuck, Calla. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
I shook my head. "I didn't think you'd want to notice."
"I don't. I mean, I'm not saying I want you to be sad, but I can't keep getting entangled in you. You're my boss, after all."
I ran my hand along the side of my laptop, then closed the lid. "You're right. I'll try to keep my feelings in check, so they don't make you uncomfortable."
"Who said I was uncomfortable?"
"What else would you call it? You know what? It doesn't matter." I got up and headed for the door. "I'm going up to the rooftop to get some air. Don't follow me."
All the way up the elevator, through the penthouse and onto the deck, I thought about that last directive. Don't follow me. I was his boss. I needed him to do what I requested.
But I wished he'd show me the side I'd seen during the wilderness cycle, when he'd disobeyed me to give me what I wanted.
The door to the penthouse remained closed behind me. I stared out at the cityscape, tamping down my anger and sadness and guilt. He wasn't coming for me.
Not ever again.