Chapter 015
939 Words
EDWARD’S POV
“I still can’t believe he did that.” Eliot mutters as I drag a small towel across my bloodied knuckles. His hand lands on my shoulder and I turn slightly. “That wasn’t even a proper beat down.”
I straighten and toss the towel to his chest. “Any more and he’d be dead.”
"He'll heal fine by morning." He argues.
I shake my head and he curses under his breath, kicking at the base of a nearby tree. Eliot is usually composed but the moment I told him Colt touched Layla, every ounce of reason drained out of him. That’s why he still wants to go back to his lodge and break whatever bones are left, even though I doubt there’s much to work with. I took my time with the bastard.
You should’ve heard him crying, and begging with his voice breaking like he didn’t leave bruises on her body just today.
But that’s the thing about men like Colt. They are brutal when the odds are in their favor but pathetic the second they’re not.
People like that are the worst kind.
I hate men who use their strength on women and children but when they’re faced with someone equal to them, they fall apart.
“So… did you think about what I said?” Eliot’s voice pulls me back, and I turn to face him fully. “About Layla.”
I swallow and my fingers tighten at my side before I can stop them.
Eliot and I have talked about a lot of things over the years, but now he’s standing here asking for permission to, in his words, “get to know Layla better and see if things heat up” and suddenly I don’t know what to say.
Or I do know what to say and it should be yes. But I don’t want to and it’s not for any reason I can properly justify.
I don’t even like her enough to be possessive. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But I am. And I blame Zyrax for that.
She’s the first girl he’s ever been… gentle with, which doesn’t make sense to me. I have to drown him in alcohol just to hook up with anyone else, but Layla? She gets a free pass at his fondness.
Then there’s the fact that she could easily fall for him and they’d be doing things like making out in front of me, in my lodge. And I genuinely think that would make something in me short-circuit, not because I like her enough to be jealous. That’s not it.
It’s just… disgusting.
But Eliot is my best friend, and in my head, all of these reasons make sense, even if it probably won’t to him.
I don’t want him thinking I’d stand in the way of his happiness so I do what I don’t want to do.
“Sure,” I say, adding a shrug to make it look more natural. “Go for it. I hope you can handle her, though.”
He snorts. “She seems cool. And I know it’s a stretch saying this after, like, a one-minute conversation with her, but I think I can vibe with her.”
I want him to stop talking. “Cool. Good luck.”
“We still checking out Red Zone?” he asks with a smile, glancing at his watch. “We still got enough time.”
I exhale. “How many bodies this time?”
“Three.” He pulls out his phone. “I’ll ring Rio and Johnny so—”
“We stake out alone.” I cut him off and swing onto my bike, the engine turning over with a low growl. “Faster that way.”
He nods and swings onto his own bike, the engine roaring to life almost immediately.
I take off first, leaving him the choice to either trail behind or push ahead but knowing him, he’ll stay close.
The wind slaps against my face, carrying the stench I’ve learned to recognize too well: the smell of death. Maybe it’s the bodies Kaz found or maybe it’s just that I’ve been around it long enough to recognize it anywhere. Either way, I hate it.
Zyrax growls but says nothing. He gets like this whenever we head to Red Zone, the stretch of border sitting between Camden and Redmoon pack. There’s no middle ground with him there. Just rage or silence, and tonight it’s silence.
Red Zone has recorded over three hundred deaths this year alone. Most of them are women, sometimes mutilated beyond recognition and discarded like they were nothing. But there’s one thing consistent across every single body — the heart is always missing. It’s always carved out clean like whoever did it enjoyed the practice.
Day after day, month after month, year after year. The killings continue but the culprit hasn’t been found. And the Council hasn’t done a thing about it and Alphas have collectively decided this corner of San Francisco simply doesn’t exist, meanwhile women turn up dead every week.
I hate that place, particularly because it’s where she was found. My mother. Stripped of her heart, like her life was never worth anything at all.
I’ve spent the last four years trying to find her killer, the thing lurking in those woods and the evil behind it all. But I’ve never come close to naming what it is. It leaves no scent, no trails and it’s like it doesn’t even exist.
With a sigh, I pull up at a tree line and cut the engine.
- Writer
