The young man who’d been apprehended at the nightclub was bedraggled, pale, hungover and practically jumping out of his skin.
I didn’t sit right beside him like I’d done with the soldiers. I sat across the table instead. And I didn’t touch him when he came in. I just waited quietly, keeping the man under my watchful gaze.
He was twitchy and anxious, with a gray cloud of confusion hovering around him. His wide green eyes darted back and forth from me to Alexander compulsively, clearly intimidated by the both of us.
Alex was a lot more forceful with this suspect than he’d been with his pack members, I suppose knowing a civilian would be easier to crack under pressure.
“Your name,” Alexander commanded.
“S-S-Simon. Simon Harris. They call me Zigzag, though. Wh-why am I here? What hap
