The Society Series Box Set 2

by Mason Sabre

  “Do you have anything belonging to Jessica?”

  He stopped, his face paling. “Shit. Did you need—”

  “No.” She shrugged. “It just helps, you know … locating her. Kind of.”

  “We can go back—”

  “No. It’s okay. Carry on. Are we going up?”

  He nodded grimly and led her to the staircase at the back, old, metal parts of it missing and rusted. The scent of it lingered, mixed with something else.…

  As she followed Cade up the stairs, she let each lock loose in her mind, peeking around the mental corners, ready to snap everything shut if she needed to. She held onto the rail as cautiously as possible, not wanting the hands that had touched it before her to contaminate her visions.

  She let out a heavy breath when they reached the room. “How?” she breathed. It was all she could manage as she laid eyes, for the first time, on where Jessica had died. Her body was gone, but the dark patch on the floor was clearly a blood stain. The scent of that and death was rich in the air. “Oh, God.” She had to snap her eyes shut and push away the images that Cade had shown to her. The pictures of Jessica lying dead, her baby …

  She hadn’t known the girl, but this was no place to die.

  “Do you need to—” She felt Cade's hand on her arm, but she pulled away. She couldn’t have his touch on her while she was this open. She had made that mistake once with a boyfriend. Nothing like seeing someone hop into bed with another.… She wanted everything with Cade to be real and not to give into that idea of seeing into him.

  “Just let me stand for a moment.”

  He eased back; she felt the air move and change as he did. Her breaths came steady through parted lips, holding the balance between the Jessica she had seen and the memories that this room must hold.

  When the big metal door slammed shut, her eyes snapped open, the sound echoing in the dark room. She blinked, but she was surrounded by total darkness. Her pulse hitched. Shit.

  “Cade?” Blindly making her way through the blackness, she headed to where she knew the door was. When her outstretched hand made contact with the metal, she pulled at the handle, turning and twisting.…

  Nothing.

  “Cade? Are you there?” She knocked on the door, tried it again, but it didn’t budge.

  If this was some kind of trick ...

  It felt like the room was getting darker by the moment, the lights that danced across her eyes slowly fading. She pressed herself against the door, her hand on her stomach, her breaths coming rapidly, and every piece of her skin tingling, on alert. “Cade? Are you out there?” She knew he wasn’t. She couldn’t feel him. That warm echo close to her was nothing but a dark void now. Something moved in the shadows in the corner of the room, and she gasped. She couldn’t make out who or what it was, but she was too scared to move and find out, her feet glued to the spot.

  When she did dare, something smashed across her face, hot and sharp, splitting open her skin with searing agony. She pressed her hand to it, blood seeping through her fingers as she frantically grasped for the handle once again. But something hit her again, this time sending her to the floor. As her head smacked off the solid wall, she fought to hold onto consciousness.

  She rolled onto her front and tried to push herself up, but pain lanced through her shoulder, her arm pressed to her body in some unnatural way. The world was slipping away from her and she could only crawl one-handed back to the door, but it seemed so far away now. She called to her wolf for help … to heal her.

  Her knees throbbed as she dragged herself back. “Cade? Please—” she cried out, whimpering. She tried to move but her body was in so much agony it made her heave. She reached the door again, clawing at it, pulling herself up, her hand rattling the handle, but it wouldn’t move. It made no sense, there was no lock … nothing. "Please open the door ..."

  She sank back against the door, breathing deeply, whimpering, trying to control the pain running through every inch of her body. Her wolf was just under the surface, ready to come out and defend her. Tiny spikes of brown fur speckled her arms, her skin rippled. She opened her eyes and saw the world suddenly through a tinted lens.

  Hands moved opposite her, and someone laughed in the darkness. She angled her head, trying to see, but the darkness loomed, moving in with crushing force.

  “Who’s there?” she said breathlessly. “What do you want?”

  “Justice,” a quiet voice said somewhere from the side. The tones were so hushed that she couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

  Cold fingers ran along Natalie’s jaw, and she twisted, trying to move away, but her body stayed in place. “Please …” The hand moved to her abdomen, pushing into her flesh like they were going to pierce the skin. She clutched at it, crying out from the pain. Someone laughed and her skin gave way under the grip. Red, hot pain sliced through her, and she screamed, deep and guttural. Blood oozed into her mouth, choking her. Tears streamed down her face as she began to scream in earnest, the sound coming from the depths of her soul until the world turned black.

  Hands gripped her waist, lifting her, and she clawed at them, desperate to get free and get out of the room.

  “Natalie … it’s me.” Cade held her tight, pulling her close, but even though she could hear him, she screamed louder, struggling to get away.

  “Natalie.”

  A warm hand pushed her hair from her face, and her heavy eyelids slowly blinked open. She panted against him for a moment, then her stomach twisted and she bolted forward, heaving. "Let go—"

  Still breathing heavily, she turned to face him, her eyes wide with terror. Cade backed away, giving her space. “I'm not touching you,” he said gently. Vaguely, she noticed that he was holding his wrist and that blood was running down the back of his hand.

  Her throat burnt and her body shook. “I was there,” she rasped, her eyes meeting his, trying to hold onto him mentally. “I was there. I saw.”

  Chapter 20

  Cade

  Back at his house, Cade set Natalie down on an armchair and hurried to get her some water. Natalie’s hand shook as she took the glass he offered. He cupped her hand around it, steadying her, her delicate, small fingers fragile in his strong hands.

  “Got it?” he asked gently.

  She nodded, but she clutched at it with both hands when he let go.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, crouching down in front of her. She was so deathly pale, whiter than he had seen anyone go. Her breathing came rapid still, and he could hear the wild thumping of her heart. “If I’d have—”

  “No,” she said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I let my guard down too much. It’s my fault.” She sipped her water then held the glass on her lap, her eyes focused on its contents. “I screwed up.”

  Cade swore inwardly. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea, but the sight of her—another wolf—suffering in front of him brought up that protective side of him, and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t Gemma. What mattered was that he eased her pain.

  He slipped a finger under her chin and lifted her face towards him. “You didn’t, okay?”

  “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. If I hadn’t—”

  “It’s fine. I promise. As long as you’re okay.”

  Natalie’s gaze followed his hand when he finally let it drop onto the seat next to her. Needing the contact still, she reached out and ran light fingers along his arm. He winced as they came into contact with the badly gouged skin where she had dug in her nails and scraped along his flesh when he had tried to get her out of the room. It was all he could think to do to snap her out of her vision somehow.

  She had screamed so loudly—like someone dying in pain and agony….

  Jessica.

  He was sure the sound of that scream would echo in his ears forever.

  “I did that …” she whispered in horror.

  He brushed it off with a casual wave of his hand. “It’ll heal. Are you sure you’re okay? I have to go
to Malcolm’s.”

  Time was going fast, and even if he went straight there now, he would be late. But he had to stop at the office first and make copies of the file to hand out. He should have done it earlier … Instead, he had been giving in to his wolf with Gemma.

  Guilt lanced through him as he looked at Natalie now. He didn’t regret Gemma, but he regretted that Natalie had to be tied up in all this. It felt like a piece of his soul was breaking away every time he pictured Gemma in the cabin.

  Everything was ruined.

  “I’m fine.” As she went to put the glass on the coffee table near them, Cade took it from her and put it down. “I need to sleep it off anyway.” She listed to the side, and he quickly grabbed a cushion and put it under her head.

  Goddammit. She’d had the most up close and personal with Jessica’s last moments—she had told him about it right after. At least now they knew Jessica had fought. But they were still nowhere near uncovering who had killed her.

  “Maybe a nap would do you good,” he murmured as he pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over her. He went to pull it up to her chin, but she grabbed his hand, the touch startling him. He had to blink hard, his mental defences crumbling.

  It would do no good for her to hear his wolf howl with the pain of everything he was craving.

  His first instinct was to pull his hand, but he stayed where he was.

  For Natalie.

  Well, mostly for Natalie. Maybe a little was for himself. He needed to relieve the guilt that had wedged itself at the pit of his stomach. It didn’t matter whether he was near Natalie or Gemma, both brought about feelings of guilt and shame—for different reasons.

  He angled his face so that it was level with hers, and she pressed his knuckles to her cheek. His wolf roamed in the back of his mind, seeking to comfort from another of his kind. Wolves needed the touch. They craved it. Especially when in pain. It didn’t matter if it was physical or mental. Cade took from Natalie, too, trying to soothe the broken pieces of himself. “I’m sorry I can't get out of this meeting. I know you want to run this evening.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s okay. DSA comes first.”

  He ran a thumb across the tops of her knuckles, his wolf demanding he lean in close and press his face to hers … just to offer her the comfort.

  But this wasn’t Gemma, and it would be unfair for him to lead Natalie into thinking she had a chance. “I have my phone on me. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  She nodded, keeping hold of his hand as he stood.

  “You rest,” he said, slipping his hand out of hers. “I’ll be back soon.”

  She pulled the blanket around herself, tucking it under her chin as she let her eyes close.

  A feeling of unease gripped him.

  This wasn’t right. Natalie … here. He was supposed to be with Gemma and Connor. Connor would have been a toddler now. Walking, babbling … He clamped his mind shut. The painful images of the things that could have been were the worst kind of torture.

  By the time he arrived at Malcolm’s house, he’d had a call from his father and a call from Malcolm. He was late, but he had needed to stop off and get everything copied. He made good time, though, but clearly not enough when he got to where Malcolm lived. Every car was in the driveway or parked along the lane. He had to park far enough away that it gave him a good walk.

  Gemma’s car wasn’t there, but then that didn’t surprise him. Her car was dead. But she would still be at the meeting. The shock was the car parked right behind Malcolm’s—Angela’s. Its position also meant that she had been there right from the start.

  “You’re late,” Aaron said as he opened the door for him. Of course, he didn’t offer to take any of the papers. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his stance squared, shoulders back, looking more like he was about to attend an office meeting rather than Society.

  “Angela is here,” Cade said, nodding his head toward the lane as he kicked the door shut.

  “Well, Emily thought that it would be a good idea for her to be around people. Her friends.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  Aaron smirked. “Women and their weak hearts.”

  Cade bit back a remark at his dismissive tone. His brother was lucky he had chosen a wife like Isobel, who would bend and jump at his every command. Aaron was a lot like his father, although he’d never lay a hand on his wife. He was meticulous and reliable. All he was missing was that ruthlessness. His duty to gain a mate and produce an heir had been done without complaint. He couldn’t be happy, though. To Cade, he seemed more like a robot towing the rules that had been set down from birth.

  The tables were all set out in a line so that everyone was visible. His gaze first fell to Gemma, drawn to her of its own volition. In contrast, she seemed to be doing everything she could not to look at him. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her eyes fixed on a glass of water. Between her and Malcolm was an empty seat—Stephen’s. A cruel reminder that his friend was no longer there. He’d have done anything to bring him back just then.…

  Letting out a harsh breath, he tore his eyes away and put the papers on the table where his seat was next to Aaron but remained standing. It would do no good for his mind to travel through all this shit right now.

  As his eyes roved over the table, he noticed it wasn’t just tigers and wolves who sat there—although they were all shifters. Foxes, lions, and bears. None of the other Council members needed to be here. Perhaps Malcolm wouldn’t escalate it. After all, it was one of the Society’s own.

  When Cade had settled his things, Malcolm motioned for him to stay quiet a moment as he stood to address the Others assembled there. “I am sure most of you have heard the news regarding Jessica Cooke.” Heads gave solemn nods and hushed whispers that went around the table as Malcolm’s gaze rested on Angela. “I wish to offer the official condolences of Society to you. If there is any assistance …”

  “Thank you,” she said, softly.

  Assistance meant the basic of needs. It did not cover having her back, defending her, or helping her to stand on her feet within the ranks. No. The true test of a pack master came in times such as these. In times when it would be easier to think of yourself and lie down and die.

  Malcolm took a sip of his coffee, then cleared his throat, switching from friend to alpha. “Do we have any news on paternity yet?” he asked, focusing on Cade.

  “Not yet.” Cade took the copies he’d made and handed them to Aaron, who took the top one and then passed the pile along. Not every detail was in there, but there was enough so they could understand where he was up to. “I am also waiting for Jessica’s call log and her bank records. Hopefully tomorrow.” He gave everyone a moment to flip through their copies. At the front was a checklist for them to follow him. “She had a stash of money,” he said when Malcolm reached the page with that fact on it. “If we can see when that was withdrawn, maybe we can get an indication as to why. Also, we still have no update on her car, her purse or her mobile phone. They’re all still missing. If you flip to page seven, you should see both her car and the details of it. If you could make people aware we’re looking for this ...”

  Malcolm took off his glasses and looked at Cade. “Have you spoken to Daniel yet?”

  “Not yet.” He turned to his father. “I was hoping to do that this evening? With your permission, of course.”

  Trevor chewed on the question a moment. “Danny was home … all night.”

  “I am aware of that, Father, but he was also a friend to Jessica. He may know something.”

  “I am sure he would have told you if he did. He would have called you.”

  A tick worked along Cade’s jaw. He had learnt long ago that Trevor was a brick wall when it came to anything that for one minute would hurt his pride. “I still need to talk to him regardless of where he was last night. He might know something. He might well know who the father of the—”

  Aaron stood up a
bruptly, cutting Cade off. “I mean no disrespect,” he said to Angela, getting a tearful nod in response before turning and addressing both Cade and Malcolm. He had that usual air about him, like he was about to deliver a well-versed speech—he probably was. “Is it possible she withdrew the money with the intention to end the pregnancy herself?”

  No. Cade had seen the appointment card so he knew there was no such intention. He had kept that out of the file, though. He didn’t want anyone heading to the Human clinic and asking questions before he had the chance. “She was halfway through her second trimester,” he said. “It has to be confirmed, of course, but I don’t think—”

  “How is that possible?” Trevor asked. “That made her … what? Twenty weeks into her pregnancy?”

  “About there.”

  “Then how is it no one noticed. She was a skinny girl. She couldn’t—”

  “Perhaps the baby was held deeper in her body,” Emily said. She didn’t speak often at meetings. She was more of a watcher and a feeder, playing the good hostess. Of course, many a man had underestimated her. Soft on the outside, but she was still a tiger, and the wife to an alpha at that; neither of those titles called for weakness. “When I was carrying Stephen, because I was younger, fitter, and as he was my first, it was easier for my body to conceal him. Especially when I shifted. But even when I reached full-term, I didn’t look that far gone. And he was a big baby.”

  As Emily and Trevor debated this, Cade’s gaze lifted to Gemma. She was watching him, too, her green eyes deep with the same emotions he was feeling … the same, cruel memories they shared. When she had been full-term, she had bloomed with the pregnancy, her bump high, the baby’s long legs pushing up into her ribs and making it hard for her to sit forward. It was only when she shifted that her body seem to hold him tighter.