Rage

Justice

The next day I wake up with a terrible headache and a decision.

I go straight to the station and into my boss’s office. I don’t bother knocking. Charles looks up at me from his desk with a hint of surprise on his face.

"You look awful," he says.

"Result of alcohol and a poorly slept night. Got a minute?" I ask, already sitting down at his desk without waiting for an answer.

Charles gestures with his hand.

"Be my guest. You’re already there anyway."

"I think I have a lead on the Benedict Vanderbilt case."

Charles leans forward a bit, locking eyes with me. "I’m listening."

"At the crime scene, I smelled something peculiar, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from because it was masked by some magical essence. I just knew it belonged to a werewolf. Then, last night at the bar, I met Liam Havoc, and he had the exact same scent I picked up at the crime scene."

Charles blinks, and I catch a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

"Let me get this straight," he begins. "You smelled something peculiar at Vanderbilt’s crime scene, even though it was masked by magic. Then, while drunk in a dive bar, you picked up the same scent on a CEO."

Now that he says it like that, I realize how ridiculous it sounds.

"When I was talking to Liam Havoc, yes. The scent was his."

Charles leans back in his chair, cracking his knuckles.

"You know you can’t arrest someone based on that, right?"

"I know. I just said I think it’s a lead."

"Then dig a little deeper. You’re going to need more than a retroactively masked scent to link one magnate’s death to another. By the way, we established the time of Elijah’s death and already confirmed your alibi with the forest nymph. You’re in the clear."

"Alright, but I get the feeling you’re not taking me very seriously."

"And I’m not. Evalyn, honestly, I don’t think this is going anywhere. We can’t base any kind of evidence on something that happened while you were downing gallons of alcohol."

"It was just one bottle," I shoot back.

"Doesn’t matter. Come back with more than that, or don’t come back at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy."

I walk out and slam the door a little harder than necessary. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him about my conversation with Liam about justice and the fact that Elijah turned up dead shortly after.

Maybe I liked it.

Maybe a little too much.

I sit at my desk, thoughtful. I absolutely hate the idea of people committing crimes and walking away unpunished. The scent was unmistakable. But it didn’t mean anything if I couldn’t prove it.

I reach into the pocket of my jeans and find Liam Havoc’s business card. I stare at it for a few seconds, flipping it between my fingers… then I make a decision.

I’m going to see him. No matter how much I try to deny it. I need to see him again.

***

The Havoc Building is a threat disguised as architecture: a tower of black glass and steel rising in the heart of Steelhaven like it’s trying to devour the sky.

I arrive at the luxurious reception, introduce myself, and say I’d like to speak with Liam Havoc.

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist, an air elf, asks politely.

"No, but tell him I’d like to finish a conversation we started yesterday."

She picks up the phone, makes a call, and a few seconds later, turns back to me with a smile.

"He’s ready to see you."

She gives me the floor number and room, hands me a visitor badge, and off I go, riding the elevator dozens of stories up to the penthouse, where Liam is.

When I get there, another receptionist — this time a fairy — greets me with a smile and guides me to Havoc’s office. I can’t help being impressed by the room I’m being led to: entirely made of glass, it has panoramic windows that show almost all of Steelhaven.

As I enter, I notice there are two large desks: one in the center and another to the right, where Liam is sitting with a man I don’t recognize.

As soon as I walk in, Liam gets up to greet me. And my body responds before I can stop it. The bond burns beneath my skin as if it’s been reactivated: stronger in the daylight, more cruel under that perfectly tailored suit.

Damn it. How is he even more attractive than he was last night?

The other man remains seated at his desk in an almost lazy posture.

"Miss Evalyn. Back so soon to continue our conversation, huh? It’s a pleasure to have you here," his voice sounds like velvet against my skin. Warm, elegant, dangerous.

"The pleasure is mine… for now."

My gaze flickers to the other man in the room, who’s watching me in silence. He’s unnaturally beautiful. His dark brown hair is styled in a sharp, modern cut. His eyes are large and an unexpectedly clear green, like two pools. I notice his ears are slightly pointed. He smells like flowers mixed with dried leaves.

A forest elf, I conclude.

Liam follows my gaze and gives a small nod.

"Evalyn, this is Oliver, my Beta and my lawyer. Say hello to Evalyn, Oliver."

"Hello, Evalyn," Oliver says simply, with a small, unreadable smile. His smile makes me feel like I’m being assessed piece by piece. And he seems to like what he sees.

"Your Beta?" I repeat. "He’s an elf."

"I am," Oliver says with the same unreadable smile. "Why is your Beta an elf?" I press.

"I’m half werewolf too," Oliver explains.

"How…? That’s impossible," I reply, incredulous.

"Apparently not," Oliver counters.

Everyone knows crossbreeding between different species is biologically impossible, except in the rarest cases.

Sexual relations between mystical races and humans aren’t forbidden, since in many cases the organs are compatible. But reproduction? Forget it. The gametes don’t match. They’re entirely different codes. Especially between werewolves and elves, whose genetic makeup is almost opposite.

"But how…"

"Evalyn," Oliver says gently. "Did you come here to talk about me? Because, honestly, I love talking about myself, but this is the first time we’ve met."

"Okay, forgive my intrusion." I rub my forehead. "I’d like to talk to you about something specific, Liam. Could we speak in private?"

"Unfortunately, no," he replies. For a second, his eyes flash with the golden glint of the beast: intense, hungry. But he blinks and it’s gone. "Like I said, Oliver is my Beta. Anything we discuss here, he needs to know."

I feel a slight twinge of irritation because of that. I look at Oliver, who shrugs with that same enigmatic smile. I’m not sure what’s worse: the fact that he hears everything or the way he looks at me, like he can see beneath my skin.

He gestures to the chair across from Liam’s desk. "Why don’t you sit down, Evalyn? You must be tired after standing for so long."

I don’t like this Oliver guy’s attitude. As relaxed as he seems in that chair, like he doesn’t have a single problem in the world, there’s something about him that puts me on edge. He’s exactly the kind of man who’d stab you with a smile, wipe the blade on your clothes, and tuck it back in his pocket like it’s just another Tuesday.

Even so, my attention shifts naturally back to Liam. I clench my jaw. I sit. I need to focus. I need to forget Liam’s scent. His stare. The fact that my whole body recognizes this man like it was made for him.

But every time I breathe, my body betrays me.

I try to look in control, but my body still burns.

What the hell is this connection? It makes no sense. There’s no softness to it. It’s pure, raw instinct wanting to crash into another body.

His.

I hate him for it. I hate how my body leans in, imperceptibly, every time he speaks. As if his gravity is pulling me in.

This isn’t ordinary desire. It’s biological. Wild.

And if I allow myself to feel it, even for a second, I won’t be able to stop.

"Alright, I’ll be direct, Liam. Did you kill Elijah Mason last night?"

When I mention Elijah, he blinks once, like something inside him flickered. Oliver leans forward again. His gaze still calm, but analyzing.

"What kind of question is that?" he asks.

"A simple one, with an answer you two are clearly avoiding," I snap back.

"Tell me something, Ev..." Oliver starts.

"Don’t call me Ev."

"Alright, Ev. Is this an official interrogation?"

"No. For an official interrogation, I’d have to drag Liam to the station."

"Not exactly. You’d need evidence to suspect Liam committed a murder. Do you have that?"

"No. But he was at the bar near where Elijah’s body was found."

"Just like you and everyone else at the bar."

"I’ll answer your question with another, Evalyn," Liam says in a dark tone. "When I asked you yesterday what kind of justice you preferred, what did you say?"

"I said I preferred the kind that works."

"Then why are you here questioning whether I killed a man who abused a fae girl, tried to kidnap her, and then walked free?" Liam asks. His scent grows stronger in the air, like the beast in him is pressing to the surface.

"Is that a yes?"

"That wasn’t a yes or a no," Oliver cuts in. "Liam won’t answer anything about that unless it’s in an official interrogation."

"I killed him," Liam says.

"Havoc!" Oliver sighs, putting a hand to his forehead.

The sentence hits like a punch. Not just for what he said, but how he said it.

Cold. Direct. Impossible to ignore. His voice is cold as steel, but his eyes burn.

And me… I wanted to hate him with every fiber of my being.

But part of me — the broken part that shares this damn bond — feels relief.

Because he did what I wanted to do, but didn’t. Because I still have a damn moral compass that works a little too well.

How can I want someone who says things like that so casually?

"What are you planning to do now?" Liam asks. "Try to arrest me for killing that monster?"

I stare at the man in front of me in silence. I hate him.

I hate the way he watches me. I hate his calm. I hate his scent. I hate how, even now, with rage boiling in my blood, part of me just wants to lean in and press my mouth to his.

This isn’t normal. This is biological magic. Ancestral bond. A cruel trick of nature.

And I won’t give in.

For a second, he seems to lean forward, but stops at the last moment.

"Imagine I hadn’t done it," Liam continues, filling the silence. "Right now, he’d probably be looking for another fae girl to abuse and kidnap. Would that have been better?"

There’s something in his eyes. Like he knows exactly how my skin would feel under his fingers… and refuses to find out. He inhales deeply and holds it too long, like he’s forcing the wolf back into the cage.

"What are you, Havoc? Some kind of nighttime vigilante?"

Liam runs his tongue across his lips. A simple gesture, but one that reveals the effort he’s making not to growl or pull me closer.

"He’s Batman," Oliver replies. "But the werewolf version."

I don’t know what’s more infuriating: Oliver’s sarcasm or the fact that Liam, even now, still looks at me like he knows he’s going to ruin me. And I still haven’t decided if I’ll let him.

"You’re not taking me seriously, are you?"

"Oliver isn’t. But that’s just how he is," Liam says. "I’m taking you very seriously. You’re someone obsessed with justice. So am I."

"For the record, so am I," says Oliver, raising a hand.

"Justice worked yesterday," Liam continues. His gaze drifts to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Too fast to be interest. Too slow to be a mistake. "And in the end, that’s what matters. Not who held the blade."

"Well, before Liam confesses to another crime — not that he’s committed any — are we done here?" Oliver asks.

"No," I reply. "Liam, did you kill Benedict Vanderbilt?"

Oliver raises both hands. "Oh, now you’re going to accuse Liam of every murder committed in the last month?"

Liam sits calmly with both hands folded under his chin.

"What makes you think that?"

"Your scent. I picked it up at Benedict Vanderbilt’s crime scene when I went to investigate the homicide."

"And how did you know it was his scent?" Oliver asks.

"I didn’t. I recognized it yesterday, when we were at the bar."

"Oh, a retroactive recognition," Oliver scoffs. "Even better: a whole week later."

"My sense of smell is reliable."

"For you, maybe. But from the outside, it looks like delusion… or you’re just in a rush to close this case," Oliver fires back. "A scent you ‘recognized’ doesn’t prove anything, dear Evalyn."

"In a world ruled by werewolves, scent is crucial."

"Still proves nothing," Oliver replies. "You’d need solid evidence to prove he was involved, which you won’t find, because my friend had nothing to do with Benedict Vanderbilt." He says it while staring hard at Liam.

I look at Liam. If anyone has something to confess, it’s him.

"I didn’t kill him," Liam finally says.

"Then why was your scent at the crime scene?"

"My scent wasn’t at the crime scene. You mistook it for something else."

I stand up. I absolutely hate when someone underestimates my intelligence.

"I know what I smelled," I snap. "And I’m going to find a way to prove you were involved in this, Liam. You can count on that."

"Well, good luck with that," murmurs Oliver. His voice is far too sweet for the bitterness in his words. There's something in the way he looks at me that makes it feel like he's provoking me on purpose.

"A monster like Elijah, I might let that one slide. But Vanderbilt? That guy only wanted to help people. He didn’t deserve the end he got."

Liam stares at me. His golden eyes visibly darken, but he says nothing.

I recognize that look. It’s not anger. It’s possessiveness.

And the worst part? A part of me likes it. A part of me wants it.

I hate myself for that.

Oliver is silent too, still, his posture tense for the first time since I walked into this room.

"I wouldn’t be fooled by appearances, if I were you," Liam growls at last.

Something in his tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. For the first time, I wonder if I’m even on the right side.

But I can’t back down now.

"Oh, and we have an alibi," Oliver says. "But I think we’d rather not expose the damsels we were with on the night of the crime."

"You can tell me now, or when I come back with a warrant."

"I think we’ll wait for the warrant, because I don’t think you’ll get one," says Oliver.

I head toward the exit.

"Well, I guess we’re done here then. Enjoy the view while you can. I’ll be back with a warrant."

Before I walk out, I cast one last glance at Oliver. He’s watching me, head slightly tilted, like he’s trying to solve a delicious riddle.

"Evalyn," I hear Liam call. I turn to him and meet his golden eyes. "Why did you come to see me?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you had a suspicion, why not just continue the investigation quietly? It would’ve been easier."

I take a moment to think before answering.

"Because I wanted to understand what’s really going on. Elijah. Benedict. What do they have in common? Why did you do what you did?"

"Don’t answer that, Havoc," Oliver cuts in.

"By now, you should know what true justice looks like," says Liam.

"You’re right. I do."

"I have an invitation for you. Once you’ve gotten rid of your doubts about me, join us. Together, we can make justice happen."

I let out a mocking laugh. "I’m a detective. I’m not about to play Batman at night."

As I turn to leave, I feel Liam’s gaze on my back like a touch. A touch he would never dare make. And I should never want.

But I do. And that terrifies me more than any threat.

This bond is going to ruin me.

He didn’t touch me, but he’s already broken through all my walls.

And worse: he knows it.

He knows.

When the door closes behind me, I know I made a mistake.

But I’m not sure if it was trusting him… or walking away.