City of Wolves: Alphas on Motorcycles

7 | Suspicion

Celeste

I immediately turn off the television, putting my hands over my mouth so whoever is outside can't hear me breathing if they happen to have enhanced hearing. At this point it is 4:30am, so the hour is enough to convince me that whoever is at the door isn't here for some silly routine checkup. They are here because they know I was part of the protest, and they are going to take me away to a labor camp. To prison. But what if whoever is here, is here for Matthew? I am paralyzed. There is another knock on the door.

I hear Matthew groan and stir which, funnily enough, thaws me and gets me moving. Walking over to the bedroom door, just as Matthew is starting to sit up, I tell him to stay quiet. Before he can ask why I gently close the door and take a deep breath, smoothing my hair, wrapping my cardigan around myself as if it is armor. Since I am, in fact, at home, I am not feeling confident enough to push my luck anymore. I have to answer the door.

Turning on the foyer light and opening the door, I am greeted by a Lycan whom I recognize—he is my employer, Lycan Thomas Reed, who does not have enhanced hearing. Much to my surprise, however, there are also two brown hip-tall wolves on either side of him, staring up at me with dandelion-yellow eyes; one wolf's lips are pulled back in what appears to be the semblance of a snarl. My knees go weak and I am doing a terrible job of hiding my guilt. It's etched all over my face.

"Celeste Oleander, I am here to inform you that the shop in which you work has been burned in the protest. Nothing was able to be salvaged from your storage room—all the pictures you painted have been destroyed. I regret having to inform you of such news," he narrows his eyes at me. Unfortunately, my employer is a fundamentally bad person. I have never had explicit issues with him by some miracle, but I am nervous around him. I've never been so nervous around him as I am right now, however, and he is picking up on that. "You will not be required to work until a new shop has been found for you; we are unsure how long this will take. You will not be compensated during this time. You will be relocated when we find a new shop for you since there are currently no available spaces downtown. Is any of this unclear to you?"

"N—no, Lycan Thomas Reed," I stammer, mouth going dry as if I have swallowed sand. "Everything is clear. I understand. Thank you for informing me."

"Do you...happen to know who might have burned down your shop? Firefighters determined your shop was in the immediate vicinity of an explosion. A stolen ambulance crashed into the utility pole right outside your shop accompanied by another stolen ambulance that did not crash—bags of stolen bombs were laid along the street with one on top of the hood of the ambulance. When the ambulance exploded it took the entire street with it, but it took your shop first. May I come in?"

I hesitate. By inviting him into the apartment I am inviting the enemy into my home, which is something I really don't want to do. However, by rejecting his self-invitation, I am interfering with his inherent right to dictate orders to me even if they are framed as innocuous questions. His question is really a statement: I am coming inside, and if you do not allow me then you are guilty of being an enemy against the regime. He would be correct. I must not crack. I must not say anything.

"Yes, Lycan Thomas Reed, you may come in," I open the door wider, stepping aside, allowing him to come in with his wolves. "Can I get you anything while you are here? Tea, coffee, water?"

One of the wolves emits a low bark which makes my eyes go wide. The wolf puts his nose to the ground as he sniffs the trail to the bedroom then darts across the hall into the bathroom. The wolf has caught onto a scent, something incriminating. My heart is in my throat. It must reek of smoke in here; since I don't have enhanced scent I cannot smell anything other than a faint trace, but when the second wolf begins sniffing around the apartment I come to terms with the fact that the evidence must be mounting against me. Even Lycan Thomas sniffs the air.

"The smell of smoke is overwhelming in here. Why is that? Have you been outside?" Lycan Thomas narrows his eyes even more, making them slits, taking a step towards me. We stand in front of the balcony. I resist the urge to throw myself over it to escape this situation. "Were you responsible for the burning of your shop?"

"No, Lycan Thomas Reed," I try to keep my voice strong but it rattles. I am embarrassed and afraid. I keep my arms wrapped around myself, hands balled into fists to hide the shaking of my hands. "I've been here all night. My sleep has been disturbed by the protest outside but I never joined the effort; I admit I stood on my balcony to watch it after the fire broke out. I left the balcony door open when I was watching everything, but I closed it after I came inside and have been asleep ever since."

"That might explain the smell of smoke in here, but it doesn't explain the smell of smoke in the hallway leading directly from the elevator to your front door," he takes another intimidating step toward me. I can feel myself floundering under pressure. This is another reason I don't like to concern myself with Matthew's affairs: I am more likely to compromise his mission than to help it. "If you are honest with me, I can help you. You don't have to lie to me. You shouldn't be lying in the first place."

I can feel the wolves standing behind me so that I can't flee. He has no intention of helping me; all he wants is a confession. He has begrudged me ever since I told him he is unmated because his mate died when she was a child. My gifts emerged when I hit puberty and I have been working at the same shop from even before I graduated from school; Lycan Thomas Reed has been my boss the whole time. I was sixteen when I delivered the crushing news to him and for the accompanying seven years he has been passively waiting for me to slip. I am not a necromancer. I cannot bring mates back from the dead. I can't tell you how many times I have been accused of perjury just for those accusations to go away because there was no proof. In this region, I am the ultimate authority on mating. If I say there is no mate, then there is no mate. There can be no evidence to build a case against me...at least not yet.

"I—"

Matthew comes out from the bedroom, his dark brown curls disheveled and frizzy. He meets my eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking at Lycan Thomas Reed who he has never met before. I wish Jasmine would come back and blow up this apartment—any bombs you can spare? This is not going to end well. We've been caught. We've been bested. We might as well give up the ploy now and beg for mercy. We might as well quit since it is clear we are behind and not ahead.

"She tells you the truth," Matthew begins confidently. "The smell of smoke from our apartment to the elevator is because of me. Celeste was on the balcony when I woke up and decided to take out the trash. The sirens and smell of smoke was driving me nuts so I decided to escape for a few minutes in the elevator. She never noticed me, which is why she can't explain the smell of smoke in the hallway. We have not engaged in the protest tonight. We respect the regime. My girlfriend, however, is just curious. Is that a crime, Lycan..?"

"Lycan Thomas Reeds, Celeste's employer," his eyes are still narrowed as he looks between me and Matthew. "This does seem like a logical explanation, so I am making the choice to believe you. However, if I find out there was deception on either of your parts tonight, there will be harsh penalties to pay. Do we have an understanding?"

At this point Lycan Thomas is addressing both of us. I look back at Matthew to see if he will be the one responding but his eyes are completely locked onto Lycan Thomas. His pupils are dilated—glassy black discs that look like they should be shooting lasers. It occurs to me that Matthew stared at me exactly the same way after he broke up the battle between the authorities and the protestors. Lycan Thomas Reed is...entranced, his mind under some form of dictation. That is the only plausible explanation. If it wasn't for Matthew I would be getting hauled off in silver handcuffs that would leave permanent marks on my wrists. I have only seen the scars on a select few who were released back into society after serving time at the prison camps. Of course, they are never the same. Such conditions result in permanent alterations to an individual.

"We have an understanding," I say, turning back to Lycan Thomas. "Thank you, Lycan Thomas Reed."

"I will return first to relocate you, then I will return again to reinstate you in your new business. I will still be your employer—your boss," he flicks his head at the wolves who separate then join together again behind him. The one wolf still snarls. "Stay out of trouble. Your gift is important to many. It would be a shame to waste its potential in a prison camp."

He pivots on his heel and turns to leave, the silver handcuffs dangling from underneath his jacket, bumping against the left pocket on the back of his pants as he walks away. Lycans dress in black military-like apparel, making them stand out in daytime while blending in with the night. They move like malevolent shadows around corners, walking down streets, riding on their motorcycles. The black attire only emphasizes the darkness they internalize. When the door closes behind Lycan Thomas and his wolves I rush over to lock it, leaning against it and listening until I hear them enter the elevator. I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asks, coming toward me.

"If you don't tell me what you're hiding from me," I hiss. "We will not be relocating together. You tell me now or never."